‘Highest 2 Lowest’ Review: Kurosawa Reimagined in New York

Adapting is both respecting and betraying—and that’s exactly what Spike Lee does in Highest 2 Lowest, his predictably distinctive reimagining of Akira Kurosawa’s 1963 classic High and Low. Some changes are purely cosmetic, tied to the obvious differences between 1960s Japan and present-day New York—the kind of business the protagonists run, the technology they use. Others are more deliberate. One is cultural: as in all of Lee’s films, a generous portion of screen time goes to celebrating Black music and the specific details of the world he inhabits (including a playful nod to the long-standing sports rivalry between New York and Boston). Another is tied to the “villain” and his relationship with the protagonist.

Denzel Washington steps into the role once held by Toshiro Mifune. His David King is not the head of a shoe company but the owner of a music label. Both characters face business conflicts, potential sales of their companies, and debates about how the culture of their time—1960s Japan in the original, today’s U.S. music industry—no longer protects quality or artistic talent. The wealthy King, living in a lavish Dumbo apartment overlooking the Brooklyn Bridge, is on the verge of a major career decision when he receives a shocking call: his teenage son has been kidnapped, and the ransom is an exact $17.5 million.

Updating the old plot devices for a modern setting, the police investigation soon reveals a mistake: it’s not his son who’s been taken, but his son’s friend—King’s godson—who is also the child of his chauffeur (Jeffrey Wright). This sets up the story’s moral dilemma: should King pay the ransom anyway? Or is it no longer his responsibility? Much of the drama revolves around this fiery debate, as King insists he shouldn’t have to pay. Besides, he needs the cash to negotiate the sale—or survival—of his label. With detectives camped out in his penthouse, King must also weigh the public fallout (read: social media backlash) of abandoning his chauffeur’s son to his fate.

From here, the story begins to diverge more from Kurosawa’s version—but not too much should be spoiled. While the broad strokes remain, the relationship between King and the kidnapper (a voice we hear but don’t see until much later, clearly tied to King’s past) and the shared music-world backdrop push the narrative toward a different kind of climax. Yes, there’s still a bag of money, still a tense journey to deliver it—but Lee takes a bold turn, not just in plot but in the very purpose of the film.

For four decades, Lee has worked to portray, celebrate, and amplify African American and New York culture. Here, he finds fresh ways to do it from the outset. The film can even be read as a vibrant love letter to his hometown, vastly transformed since his 1980s Brooklyn days. Between the constant talk of music and legendary artists, the showcasing of Black visual art and literature, and a setting that hums with local life (one tense scene unfolds with both a Yankees–Red Sox game and the Puerto Rican Day Parade happening in the background), Lee seems to use Kurosawa’s plot more as a springboard for a sweeping portrait of a culturally alive New York than for exploring the darker criminal underworld of the original.

Told with a lighter, more comedic tone than expected —the Kurosawa film is deadly serious— and driven by a flamboyant, sometimes over-the-top performance from Washington as the charismatic but flawed producer, Highest 2 Lowest still holds onto one of Kurosawa’s essential themes: a kind of family-minded life philosophy that extends beyond home into work. Both films champion the idea that true success lies not in endless profit at the expense of relationships, but in protecting your own, creating quality work—be it shoes, films, or music—and being able to look clients, family, and the public in the eye with dignity.