A mashup of Macbeth and the biblical chronicles of King David, all set in contemporary New York City, Highest 2 Lowest sees Spike Lee playing with classical narratives in order to explore a modern man’s artistic reawakening.
Of course, there’s an even clearer forebearer to Highest 2 Lowest: Akira Kurosawa’s High and Low, from 1963, which Lee and first-time screenwriter Alan Fox have adapted here. Both films introduce us to a powerful businessman — in this case Denzel Washington’s music mogul David King — who receives a call from a kidnapper demanding ransom for his son. And in both cases, it turns out the criminal accidentally nabbed the son of the businessman’s driver instead. Will King still pay the $17.5 million demand for someone who isn’t his own flesh and blood?
Whereas class prejudice made this a complicated question in Kurosawa’s film, Lee and Fox add an extra wrinkle. King’s driver, Paul (Jeffrey Wright), comes from the same Bronx neighborhood as King, but an earlier prison stint was one reason he failed to rise as high. Paul’s criminal record also makes the investigating police suspicious of him at first, then dismissive when their job turns to finding his son instead.
Enough plot. The fun of Highest 2 Lowest comes in the way it flows back and forth between the Macbeth and King David narratives. The latter is the more obvious influence. In his cockier moments, Washington’s King refers to himself with the biblical moniker. When his empire is threatened by the ransom demand, he seriously considers sacrificing Paul’s son in order to have enough cash to save the business, just as the biblical David sacrificed Bathsheba’s husband to protect his reputation. (What’s more, King surveys NYC from a high-rise terrace that I imagine is similar to the palace roof from which David spied on Bathsheba.)
At the same time, King’s ambition echoes that of Macbeth (he’s in the midst of a takeover deal when the kidnapping crisis occurs). His wife (Ilfenesh Hadera) even has a key Lady Macbeth moment when she supports him in his reluctance to pay the ransom for Paul’s son. There is also a striking montage of King in his home office picking up portraits of musical icons—James Brown, Aretha Franklin, Stevie Wonder—as well as a Time cover featuring his own visage, all while repeating, “What would you do?” Perhaps a variation of Macbeth’s dialogue with Banquo’s ghost? (In addition, don’t forget that Macbeth attempted to have Banquo’s son murdered and succeeded in arranging for the assasination of another boy.)
As you can imagine, this all gives Washington plenty to chew on, which he does with a nuance that might go unappreciated. At first he appears awkward, perhaps even too old for the part (rants about AI and kids being on phones don’t help). But that’s intentional, as we learn that some in the music business have begun to suspect that David King has lost his touch. Washington has his usual swagger, but in the early scenes it’s the swagger of someone trying to cover up a certain insecurity. (During a business negotiation, his use of a gold microphone as a prop becomes forced.) Notice, however, the way the swagger shifts as the film proceeds and King finds both moral and artistic clarity. The scene of the film is a face-to-face showdown with the kidnapper. I won’t spoil it here, except to say that Washington offers a master class in screen charisma and control—even if he, realistically, allows a bit of old-man cringe to be in the mix.
Highest 2 Lowest’s other standout moment is the money-drop sequence, after King has agreed to pay the ransom. Lee and cinematographer Matthew Libatique switch to a grainy film look, evoking New York City cop dramas of the 1970s, as King boards the subway to make the exchange. What follows is a decidedly NYC stew. Raucous fans en route to a Yankees game shout “Let’s go Yankees! … Boston sucks!” When the train comes to a stop over a Puerto Rican pride festival, their chanting is mixed with the sounds of the Eddie Palmieri Salsa Orchestra as they perform beneath the elevated tracks. Lee and his editors turn these elements into a tense and vibrant sampling of chaotic, noisy New York City culture, just as the film reaches its suspenseful apex.
By its end, Highest 2 Lowest becomes more of a King David story than a riff on Macbeth. (Spoilers ahead.) Yes, there is another connection to “the Scottish play” in the fact that both Washington and High and Low star Toshiro Mifune have played Macbeth onscreen (the former in Joel Coen’s The Tragedy of Macbeth and the later in Akira Kurosawa’s Throne of Blood). Yet Lee’s movie is no tragedy.
Instead, this is a narrative of renewal. Highest 2 Lowest doesn’t involve the sort of confession and repentance that is part of the King David story, yet it does give us a lost man who finds his way. By the time of that showdown with the kidnapper—an aspiring rapper by the name of Yung Felon, played by real-life hip-hop artist A$AP Rocky, or Rakim Mayers—David King has begun to listen to music again, something he had drifted from over the years. Confronting Yung Felon in his dank, subterranean studio, King engages in a debate about both moral and artistic integrity. A$AP Rock more than holds his own in this scene, and in fact Yung Felon clearly bests King in a mini-rap battle. But again, that’s the point. “I ain’t no rapper,” King admits. “I’m a chance-giver.”
If King had pardoned Yung Felon here—offered him another chance—Highest 2 Lowest would have been truly biblical: a tale of grace freely given. Instead, after hearing that the kidnapper will get 25 years in prison, the vindictive King spits out, “Not enough.” The two meet one more time, across a glass visitation window that Lee and Libatique warp in a provocative way. Yung Felon, whose streaming numbers have exploded since his conviction, offers to sign with King’s label, claiming they would both benefit by teaming up as legit partners. King’s refusal isn’t so much an instance of moral integrity as it is artistic integrity. Instead of making the smart business choice, he decides to launch a new label with an unknown artist (Aiyana-Lee Anderson) whose talent he believes in. The biblical King Davd—who was known to play the lyre—likely would have approved.
(8/29/2025)
