Spike Lee has a knack for butchering the legacy of brilliant Asian films. After the disaster that was Oldboy, he’s back—this time turning a taut, thematically rich thriller into a loud, shallow, melodramatic mess. You’d think he could’ve learned something from the material. A story about humility ends up in the hands of a filmmaker more interested in surface-level thrills than the moral weight underneath.
Akira Kurosawa’s High and Low (1963) is one of Letterboxd’s highest-rated films for a reason—a gripping drama that starts as a claustrophobic chamber piece and masterfully transitions into a morally complex, deeply tense thriller. Since it was based on Ed McBain’s American novel, set in a New York-like city, transplanting it to modern-day NYC—framed through the music industry and viewed through a racial lens—made a lot of sense. But the execution disrespects that premise, tossing out the original’s themes in favor of tonal chaos.
The plot stays intact: David King (Washington), a once-powerful music executive, must choose between saving his fortune or paying ransom for his chauffeur’s kidnapped son. William Alan Fox’s script includes a few clever updates—mainly around the police and family dynamics—but it never captures the original’s complexity. Where Kurosawa tied the story to ideas of honor, this version gestures at race and class but never truly explores what it means to “look down” when you’ve had to fight your way up. The tension is there on the page, but the film never brings it to life.
It’s all undone by execution that suggests Lee has simply lost his grip. The first half plays like a syrupy early-2000s melodrama—I kept thinking of The Family Man with Nicolas Cage—complete with an overabundant and insufferable score by Howard Drossin. There isn’t a single scene that isn’t ruined by overwrought piano and cymbal crashes. Pacing is another big issue: dialogue scenes drag, feel repetitive, and never build the inescapable tension the original thrived on. Tonally, it’s a mess. Jeffrey Wright plays it straight (and delivers the only grounded performance), while King’s family and colleagues feel plucked from a Hallmark movie. A$AP Rocky goes full camp. And Denzel tries a bit of everything, delivering one of the weakest performances of his career. He never sells the inner conflict, and when the script calls for a major emotional shift, it feels completely unearned. And yes—he raps.
Things briefly improve when the thriller element kicks in—particularly during a train sequence at the Puerto Rican Day Parade. It’s flashy, confident, and technically slick… right up until a suitcase lands perfectly in the villain’s hands in a moment of hilarious unintentional comedy. What should be the character’s emotional turning point feels hollow and over-directed. Even the quieter moments that follow—like a potentially strong recording booth scene—can’t land, because the character’s decision never registers. And then we’re back to rap battles, music video detours, and clunky dialogue.
By the end, no one seems to know what kind of film they’re making. The original’s elegant tension between moral duty and personal ambition is gone. Highest 2 Lowest piles on mismatched tones, clashing performances, and a score that never stops getting in the way. Denzel looks lost. Spike Lee feels checked out—except when he isn’t, and instead pulls focus away from the story. And when we reach a four-minute song interlude before the credits (is the protagonist launching his own American Idol now? Is that the moral of the story?), it’s clear that the film that should’ve been about empathy, sacrifice, and class has been stripped of all humility and care. One of the most misguided remakes in recent memory. Lowest of the Lowest.