[Originally published on Geek Vibes Nation.]
What does it mean and look like to not give a fuck?
It’s probably helpful to define that. In less vulgar (and less interesting) terms, it means manifesting what you believe to be right, everyone else be damned. There are inherent and even destructive risks with this mode of thinking. (A lack of accountability and adherence to basic cultural norms, like respect and decency, has warped the American sociopolitical landscape.) In its best case, giving no fucks can carry an atmosphere of freedom, as one no longer feels beholden to suffocating structures. In the case of film, which is often shaped by potentially stifling conventions for the sake of cultural acknowledgement and financial stability, not giving a fuck offers the chance to achieve a fully-formed artistic vision, studio executives and fickle audiences be damned.
The art of not giving a fuck is painted all over Highest 2 Lowest, filmmaker Spike Lee’s latest joint, reuniting him after 19 years with his greatest cinematic muse, Denzel Washington. Washington plays David King, the high-powered CEO of a legendary but struggling record label. The label is in the midst of acquisition talks with another larger conglomerate. While he was initially receptive, David decides instead to reclaim control of the label and, ultimately, his place at the top of the music industry. His plans are upended when his son’s friend is mistakenly kidnapped and the kidnapper demands $17 million as a ransom. He initially hesitates, as the ransom would effectively wipe out his purchase of his label, but he relents, leading him on a rat race through the streets of New York to deliver the ransom and find the person who dared to threaten his second act.
One of the first ways Spike Lee doesn’t seem to give a fuck is in setting an easy tone. The film begins as you would expect of most serious dramas or thrillers. We see David suggest to his wife Pam (a coolly luminous Ilfenesh Hadera) that their finances aren’t as liquid as she thought. We meet their son, Trey (Aubrey Joseph), with whom David has at least a testy relationship. When we arrive at the record label headquarters, we receive David’s philosophy on Black music and how a nondescript rival will easily scrub it clean. Lee lays out all the makings of a high-concept thriller built around the decades-long battle between art and commerce. It’s very compelling.
Once the kidnapping takes place, a strange air of absurdity fills the frame. Despite the involvement of a high-powered New York businessman, you sense that no one, including Lee, takes the crime seriously. The trio of cops (LaChanze, Dean Winters, and John Douglas Thompson) makes strange comments throughout the interrogations and even jokes amongst themselves. The acting rhythms lean towards artifice rather than intense drama. It’s as if this supposedly high-concept thriller has suddenly switched into a high-camp melodrama. It’s jarring, until it isn’t.
Roughly 20 minutes into Highest 2 Lowest, it becomes clear that the shift is deliberate. Even with its initial self-seriousness, the film is aware of the blissfully ridiculous melodrama of a music mogul’s son getting kidnapped off the street, only for it to actually be his best friend. Everyone is aligned with its absurdity: Lee, screenwriter Alan Fox, and the cast. Lee does hint at it before: the McFadden & Whitehead “Ain’t No Stopping Us Now” needle drop during David’s trip toward the office, Rick Fox serving as Trey’s basketball coach, or brash and sassy rapper Ice Spice playing a relatively modest aspiring artist. However, Lee isn’t especially concerned with drawing the connections for the audience. The ones that get it, get it, and the ones that don’t, don’t. He doesn’t waste time handholding, trusting audiences to catch on to his metatextual game, even amidst a wholly serious crime.
Granted, it can be alienating for some and makes for some 20 minutes of tonal whiplash. The reward for meeting Lee’s fucklessness is the rest of the film being an absolute riot. He has a blast with David’s ransom delivery, throwing everything a New Yorker might encounter on the subway at him all at once. How likely is it that a sting operation will happen simultaneously as a Puerto Rican parade in the Bronx headlined by Rosie Perez and the late Eddie Palmieri, and a Yankees-Red Sox game? It’s possible, but that’s beside the point. The point is the sequence’s relentless but exhilarating chaos, perfectly encapsulating the joy of tossing logic out the window of a speedy subway car for the sake of unabashed entertainment.
That isn’t to say that Highest 2 Lowest is without a guiding narrative or thematic ethos. To the contrary, the film is Lee’s meditations on legacy and relevance: David’s and his own. David’s subway surfing journey reignited his dimmed creative spark, which he had hoped to reclaim by purchasing his label. When David and his friend Paul (Jeffrey Wright) travel to confront kidnapper Yung Felon (A$AP Rocky), James Brown’s “The Payback” soundtracks the scene, signalling that David is back in charge. His days as a hostage are over. Lee frames David and Yung Felon’s impromptu rap battle as an elder statesman reinvigorated by a young challenger, rather than an old man run ragged by a humiliating cat-and-mouse game. For David, youth may be fleeting, but instinct and passion are eternal, and often in opposition to the “get rich at all costs” philosophy that shapes modern art.
As for Lee, Highest 2 Lowest is his insistence of his own vitality. The film finds the filmmaker unafraid of the messiness that can come with directorial risks. He’ll toy with his signatures – like his double dolly shot – to find new ways into his story. He will mish-mash tones, dedicate two scenes to Yankees fans chanting “Boston sucks,” and cut between a vibrant salsa orchestra performing and Denzel Washington nearly falling between two subway cars. (He repeats Denzel versus the 4 train later in the film.) Even the film’s surprisingly peaceful coda finds Lee experimenting with his narrative sensibilities. The ebullience in Lee’s direction is remarkable. Few directors reach that level in their imperial eras, let alone in their fifth decade of filmmaking.
Given that, it’s only right that Lee tapped Denzel Washington to play his narrative avatar. Washington is on a remarkable run, reinforcing his screen presence’s ferocity in Gladiator II and The Tragedy of Macbeth. In Highest 2 Lowest, he goes even further in that work, making fascinating, daring choices in every scene. Even choices that shouldn’t work, like David pressing his forehead into Trey’s as an intimidation tactic, do. Washington is just that compelling, while also benefiting from the trust that he and Lee have developed over 40-plus years.
According to Lee, not giving a fuck ultimately circles back to giving a fuck. The aim is different, though. Not that the conventional bound Lee before, but he feels especially free from it now. After half a century as one of our most important filmmakers, he’s embracing his unassailable cultural status. However, he’s still rewriting and expanding his storytelling capabilities. He’s also inviting old and new friends on this late-stage journey, including one of our most important actors. (It doesn’t feel coincidental that Washington appears to be on the same journey in his own right.)
Whether audiences join them, on the other hand, is ultimately up to them. Lee seems at peace with some people not getting it or not trying to get it. (This may also explain why he accepted Apple’s strictly limited theatrical window). He will be fine, regardless of how people watch the film or critique it.
In other words, Spike Lee doesn’t give a fuck. And guess what? He earned that freedom.
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