Highest 2 Lowest: Too much of the latter

Highest 2 Lowest (2025) • View trailer

2.5 stars (out of five). Rated R, for relentless profanity, racial epithets and drug use

Available via: Apple TV+

By Derrick Bang

This film is a mess.

 

“Sloppy” and “unrestrained” aren’t words I normally associate with a Spike Lee endeavor, but this bewildering drama seems to have been stitched together like Frankenstein’s monster. The effort to blend predatory music biz avarice with a straight-ahead crime/police thriller ultimately fails on both counts.

 

Having ultimately agreed to pay an exorbitant ransom,, David King (Denzel Washington,
far right) boards a subway, cash-laden backpack in tow, and awaits a call with the next
set of instructions.

Matters aren’t helped by the fact that Denzel Washington — usually so adept at subtlety — behaves here like his character is high on coke the entire time. His David King too often is agitated, twitchy, impulsive and verging on out of control ... and, when interacting with his son Trey (Aubrey Joseph), unpleasantly emotionally abusive.

I realize, with respect to the storyline, that King always needs to be seen as The Man With A Plan, but — more often than not — he acts like the host of a particularly silly 

TV game show. And Lee let him get away with this?

 

Advance publicity has highlighted the fact that Lee’s film, scripted by Alan Fox, is adapted from Akira Kurosawa’s 1963 film, High and Low, which starred Toshirô Mifune. Less attention is paid to the fact that Kurosawa’s film was adapted from Ed McBain’s 1959 novel, King’s Ransom, 10th in his 87th Precinct series.

 

No surprise, Lee’s third-generation adaptation bears only faint resemblance to McBain’s novel, which shows poor judgment. McBain was an accomplished writer and plotter; Fox is neither. That said, the core plot has been updated to reflect today’s social media obsession, which adds an intriguing element.

 

Longtime Manhattan-based music mogul David King (Washington), once a mover and shaker who championed numerous young talents in the early 21st century, now is regarded as “past it.” He sold off majority interest in his company years back, in order to finance the lavish lifestyle enjoyed with his wife, Pam (Ilfenesh Hadera), and their son.

 

But now his beloved label, Stackin’ Hits Records, faces a buyout from a rival — Stray Dog Enterprises — that would exploit all the artists’ songs by turning them into TV commercial jingles (a fate worse than death). King concocts a Hail Mary plan to buy the shares belonging to partner Patrick Bethea (Michael Potts), in order to regain control, thus allowing him to rejuvenate the label ... but this will require leveraging all of King’s personal assets.

 

King’s chauffeur and longtime best friend, Paul Christopher (Jeffrey Wright), is an ex-con who nonetheless is regarded as family. King is godfather to Christopher’s son, Kyle (Elijah Wright), and the two teens also are inseparable besties. Christopher’s wife died years back, so Kyle means everything to him.

Palmer: A poignant ode to second chances

Palmer (2021) • View trailer

Four stars. Rated R, for profanity, sexual content, brief nudity and violence

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.5.21

Films such as this one, are why I love my job.

 

Cheryl Guerriero’s sharply observed screenplay for this sweet character drama is matched by scrupulously persuasive performances throughout. That said, special mention must be made of stars Justin Timberlake — absolutely the finest, most heartfelt acting job he has turned in thus far — and newcomer Ryder Allen, all of 7 years old during production.

 

Attendance at Sunday morning church service is mandatory for anybody living with
Vivian (June Squibb, foreground right), which Palmer (Justin Timberlake, foreground
left) quickly learns. Young Sam (Ryder Allen), a semi-permanent house guest,
couldn't be happier.

Actor-turned-movie maker Fisher Stevens coaches superbly subtle work from both: a degree of directorial sensitivity that I never would have expected from his only two previous features: 2002’s Just a Kiss and 2012’s Stand Up Guys. Guerriero’s story is thoroughly engaging, but it’s also fun to sit back and watch all the little bits — the pauses, expressions and gestures — that make Timberlake and Allen’s characters so believable.

 

The premise is familiar, but — when the execution is this earnest — that’s no drawback.

 

Former high school football star Eddie Palmer (Timberlake), once a hometown hero who earned an athletic college scholarship, took a massively wrong turn and wound up serving 12 years in a state penitentiary. He did “good time”; he kept his nose clean and paid his debt to society.

 

The film opens as he returns to his small-town Louisiana roots, moving in with his grandmother Vivian (June Squibb), who raised him. The weather-beaten community feels time-locked; although smart phones and computers are present, they remain at the periphery. More than once, Palmer — as he prefers to be called — insists that he’s perfectly content with the rotary phone on the wall.

 

(Filming took place in Hammond — not too far from Baton Rouge and New Orleans — and production designer Happy Massee ensures that the ambiance is strongly mid-20th century Southern Americana.)

 

Palmer’s early efforts at “making the rounds” are acutely uncomfortable, Timberlake’s posture and gaze sliding between wariness and embarrassment. He’s greeted enthusiastically by old friends Daryl (Stephen Louis Grush) and Ned (Nicholas X. Parsons), both of whom are Obvious Bad News; we worry about this, although Palmer seems smart enough to steer clear.

 

His reception from another former friend, Coles (Jesse C. Boyd), is more guarded. Following in his father’s footsteps, Coles has become a cop; some sort of residual tension permeates this reunion, although Coles clearly is happy to see Palmer. The same can’t be said of Coles’ father (Dane Rhodes), the local top cop, who grimly expects to re-arrest Palmer in due course.