'Highest 2 Lowest' Spike Lee's Sonic Approach to Akira Kurosawa's Visual Masterpiece 'High and Low'

An analysis of how two legendary directors reimagine the same kidnapping story through different artistic lenses

Spike Lee's Highest 2 Lowest (2025) is hands down one of DA COOLEST movies released this year. Based on the 1959 novel King's Ransom by Evan Hunter and framed as a reinterpretation of Akira Kurosawa's High and Low (1963), a neo-noir police procedural starring Toshiro Mifune (Kingo Gondo) as a wealthy executive, Spike's reinterpretation follows a music mogul, Denzel Washington (David King), known for having the "best ears in the business." Both films explore the moral dilemma faced by a man when he is forced to choose between using his wealth to fulfill a personal ambition or saving the life of a kidnapped child.

The setup in both films involves the kidnapping of a son. In Kurosawa's version, Gondo's son and his driver Aoki's son are playing cowboys and Indians when they switch outfits to change their roleplay—the driver's son is accidentally kidnapped instead of Gondo's. In Spike's version, King drops off his son Trey at basketball camp, where we meet Elijah, the son of King's driver Paul (Jeffrey Wright). The boys share a resemblance that becomes crucial when kidnappers mistake Elijah for Trey and take the wrong boy. Both King and Gondo are under the impression that their own sons have been kidnapped and are initially ready to pay anything—until they discover that their sons are actually safe at home. The moral weight then shifts: is each man willing to part with a fortune for the life of their driver's son?

Toshiro Mifune in High and Low

Earlier in the week I rewatched Kurosawa's High and Low. I first saw the film a few years ago during the pandemic and I remember being really mesmerized by its visual language—the ways in which the plurality of bodies flood the screen, the choreography and body language of each character in that first tense hour that takes place in Gondo's apartment feels like watching a play. High and Low is known for its incredible cinematography and use of blocking—to me it's one of the most visually arresting films within the neo-noir genre along with Michael Mann's Thief.

Denzel Washington in Highest 2 Lowest

While Kurosawa's film is all about visual language, Spike's film is all about sound. In a story focusing on a music mogul, the use of music and the importance that both sound and listening have in the plot is very well thought out and executed. While the first half of Kurosawa's film is confined to Gondo's home, from the jump New York City is very much a main character in Spike's version. The film opens with a gorgeous montage of New York City at dawn set to Norm Lewis's "Oh What A Beautiful Mornin'"—it's an absolutely epic introduction and sets the stage for King being on top of the world.

High and Low opens with a tense conversation between Gondo and his fellow business executives disputing cost-cutting measures at the shoe factory they manage. This scene, which takes place in Gondo's living room, really stood out to me because of how it establishes the anti-capitalist tone of the first hour and how class dynamics are portrayed within the Japanese cultural context.

The Gondo family on the left, the police detectives at the center and Aoki, the driver and father of the kidnapped boy on the far right.

The first half of the film surfaces a lot of interesting questions and tensions around money and power. The body language of the driver whose son ends up being mistakenly kidnapped says so much about his deference and lack of power both economically and socially. It's almost a shame that the second half turns into a standard police procedural and Mifune disappears for most of it. The investigative work isn't boring by any means and the strong cinematography is a treat to watch, but it feels like the movie loses some momentum in the storytelling, which Kurosawa tries to regain with the final confrontation between Gondo and the kidnapper.

Spike Lee's version of the film, written by first-time feature screenwriter Alan Fox with rewrites by Spike, nixes the anti-capitalist framing and focuses on family and integrity since the question of wealth and economics isn't as ruinous for the King family as it would be for the Gondo family if they paid the ransom. The King family are rich-rich—there's nary a scene in which the family members aren't adorned with diamonds on their watches, rings, earrings, bracelets, and necklaces. They sweat wealth, there is no stealth wealth here. Their penthouse apartment is decorated with millions of dollars worth of Black art from the likes of Jean-Michel Basquiat, Barkley Hendricks, and Jacob Lawrence, just to name a few.

The Kings’ luxurious home is an important set piece as is Gondo's. In Kurosawa's film, the first half mostly takes place in Gondo's home, which is set on a hill and overlooks a shanty town below—the class and wealth disparity is immediately visible. The location of this house and the modern comforts it offers plays an important part in the kidnapper's motive. While the Kings' penthouse overlooks the Brooklyn Bridge, it doesn't inform the kidnapper's motive as significantly. What the kidnapper does point out is the flaunting of wealth by King's wife on social media, which is a relevant update to his motive.

In Kurosawa's film the first half really sweats the details of how paying off the ransom for his driver's son will literally bankrupt Gondo. There is real tension there and you really feel the weight of the moral dilemma and the economic choice that he has to make. Mifune's tense performance, where his body language communicates an animalistic rage as he feels trapped by the choice he has to make, is particularly effective in showcasing Gondo's internal dilemma externally.

Because of the tangible wealth of the Kings, the economic dilemma doesn't play as strongly, and the plot point about King trying to become the major stakeholder in his record company is there but not built out in the same way as Gondo dealing with the shadiness of other directors in his company who want to mount a takeover of their own. In Kurosawa's film Gondo is facing real destitution—King could sell one Basquiat painting and make the ransom money back with millions to spare.

This shift in economic stakes fundamentally changes the story's tension. While Kurosawa sweats the details of financial destruction, Spike’s film focuses more on family dynamics and moral responsibility rather than economic hardship. King sits in his office and asks the framed photos of his music heroes what they would do. The moral choice weighs heavily on him.

One thing I loved about this interpretation of the story is that it's very much about how the King family makes decisions together. King's wife Pam (Ilfenesh Hadera) is no shrinking violet—she and David are a team—and Trey (Aubrey Joseph) isn't afraid to speak up and push his dad toward moral clarity.

In Kurosawa's film there's an iconic train scene in which Gondo is to make the drop of ransom money. This gets updated in Spike's take with the train sequence followed by chase throughout a Puerto Rican Day Parade, the Eddie Palmieri Salsa Orchestra is featured in this scene performing "Puerto Rico." I have to say I love how this film showcases the city and its people.

I was so curious to see how Spike's film would handle the second half of the story, since Kurosawa's film is tonally so different in the second half compared to the first, with a shift into a police procedural as opposed to the moral and economic dilemma that engulfed Gondo in the first half of the story. I have to say I loved how Spike's version handles the second half by emphasizing how King's ear for sound, voice, and music is the key to finding the culprit, leading to a pretty cool chase scene without the focus on the police story—who really aren't that interesting or as central in this version.

In Kurosawa's version the police and the media are very much on Gondo's side; they respect the sacrifice he made to save his driver's kid and very much want to help him recoup the ransom money. The moral weight shifts from Gondo to the cops who work hard to find the kidnapper and deliver justice. In Spike's version the cops are very dismissive of King when he attempts to deliver evidence that points to the kidnapper's identity. The relationship between cops and victims in America stands in stark contrast to how it plays out in Japanese culture.

Because Kurosawa enjoyed the performance of the actor playing the kidnapper so much, he added a confrontation scene at the end between Gondo and the kidnapper once he was caught and behind bars. There are two versions of this confrontation in Spike's version. The first takes place in a studio where King and Yung Felon (A$AP Rocky) verbally spar and battle it out in the booth. It's such a great scene where you get to see why David King was a hitmaker—the man can go bar for bar with Yung Felon. Highest 2 Lowest marks Spike Lee and Denzel Washington's fifth collaboration and really plays to Denzel's strengths as an orator, showcasing his ability to match Yung Felon's verbal prowess. The second scene references the original jail scene in Kurosawa’s film and Yung Felon makes an offer to King. A$AP Rocky holds his own up against a powerhouse actor like Denzel Washington, their verbal sparring was really well written and performed.

Yung Felon admires David King—he worships him to an extent—and this kidnapping is a bold cry for help and call for attention. The kidnapping helps King tap back into what he's good at, it helps him refocus on what made him great: his ear for talent, for music. It helps him find purpose outside of his wealth.

A$AP Rocky created two original songs for the soundtrack that are featured in the film. The first, "Trunks," is a key sonic element to figuring out who the kidnapper is, and the second, "Both Eyes Closed," receives a really cool music video treatment in the later half of the movie and is a nice nod to Spike’s signature stylistic flourishes depicting music and dance as seen in his older films like Do the Right Thing (1989).

The film ends with a beautiful rendition of the song "Highest 2 Lowest" by Aiyana Lee, whom Spike discovered on Instagram. It's a very uplifting and soulful ending, and I have to say I love how throughout the film the songs get space to breathe and really engulf certain scenes. Although I did think that Howard Drossin’s score felt a bit overwhelming in a few of the more dramatic scenes where the actors really didn’t need an extra sonic backing since the dialogue and performances were quite strong and emotionally propelling on their own.

Both films succeed brilliantly within their distinct approaches. Kurosawa's High and Low remains a masterclass in visual storytelling and class critique, while Lee's Highest 2 Lowest transforms the material into a meditation on family, legacy, and moral purpose. Both films reflect the contemporary anxieties of their respective cultures and timeframes—making it illuminating to watch these two filmmaking legends elevate a simple police procedural with their own distinctive signatures. I really recommend watching them both, if you have not seen High and Low, it's currently streaming on HBO Max.

I appreciate the framing of Highest 2 Lowest as a reinterpretation rather than a remake. It would be fascinating if this approach sparked its own trend: imagine how other directors with distinct styles might remix the same story, adapting it for their own cultural specificity and artistic vision. It seems that Quentin Tarantino and David Fincher are experimenting with something like this with Fincher helming the sequel to Once Upon A Time in Hollywood, one wonders how someone with Fincher’s cold exactitude will render the world Tarantino created.

Sadly, Highest 2 Lowest is only in theaters for about three weeks before making its digital debut on Apple TV+ on September 5. If you're in Philadelphia I highly recommend getting a ticket and checking it out at the Bourse—they have a $6 deal for tickets all day on Monday!