Spike Lee’s latest cinematic venture, Highest 2 Lowest, reunites him with longtime collaborator Denzel Washington for a New York City thriller that’s as much about legacy and cultural identity as it is about a tense kidnapping plot. Released in theaters on August 15, 2025, and set to debut on Apple TV+ in early September, the film has already sparked conversation for its bold style, ambitious themes, and powerhouse performances. According to Mashable and Vulture, the film is a modern adaptation of Ed McBain’s 1959 novel King’s Ransom, with a direct nod to Akira Kurosawa’s 1963 classic High and Low. But Lee and screenwriter Alan Fox have reshaped the story, grounding it deeply in Black culture and the contemporary music industry.
At the heart of the film is David King, played by Washington, a legendary record executive known for developing Black artists and steering his label, Stackin’ Hits, to the top of the charts and the Grammys. But King’s empire teeters on the edge: a looming buyout from a faceless conglomerate threatens the soul of his company. As Vulture notes, "David decides to risk all his assets to wrest back control of the company he’s built." On the very day he’s set to gamble everything, his world is upended by a phone call—his teenage son Trey (Aubrey Joseph) has been kidnapped for a staggering $17.5 million ransom.
The plot thickens when it’s revealed that the kidnappers have made a critical mistake: they’ve abducted not Trey, but Kyle (Elijah Wright), David’s godson and the son of his longtime friend and driver, Paul (Jeffrey Wright). This twist, as both reviews highlight, injects the narrative with moral complexity. David is forced to weigh his fortune, his company, and his legacy against the life of a boy who is family—but not his own son. The tension between personal and professional stakes is palpable, and the film takes its time to let these questions simmer. As Mashable describes, "David, his wife Pam (Ilfenesh Hadera), and his rattled son Trey discuss this matter in their lavish high-rise apartment—which suddenly seems less untouchable."
Lee’s direction is unmistakable. He plays with tone, film stocks, and continuity, granting Washington the freedom to explore a full range of emotion. There’s a deliberate unease in the first act, with the family’s calm bordering on numbness, even as their world unravels. The apartment itself is a shrine to Black excellence, adorned with books by Maya Angelou and Zora Neale Hurston, paintings of Black athletes, and photographs of musical legends like Stevie Wonder and James Brown. But as Mashable asks, "Is that all just talk if David won’t risk his wealth to save Kyle?"
The film’s title signals its trajectory: from the heights of King’s high-rise, the action plunges into the depths of New York’s subways. The ransom exchange is set for the 4 train to the Bronx, and Lee’s camera captures the city’s pulse with kinetic energy. The sequence is intercut with footage from the Puerto Rican Day Parade, where Eddie Palmieri delivers one of his final performances, and Rosie Perez makes a cameo as herself. The soundtrack, a blend of diegetic music and needle drops from all eras, infuses the film with vibrancy—even if, as Vulture notes, "the score by Howard Drossin is bizarrely distracting and dated" in places.
As the plot races forward, Washington’s King sheds his tailored suits for an incognito, streetwise look, backpack full of cash in tow. The tension on the train is palpable, with Yankees fans and parade-goers providing a raucous backdrop. When plans go awry and the police lose control, the stakes skyrocket. Lee’s signature style—his "crazy-quilt" approach to filmmaking, as Vulture puts it—serves the movie well, keeping viewers on edge and invested in the outcome.
But Highest 2 Lowest isn’t just a caper. It’s a meditation on legacy, pride, and the changing tides of culture and industry. David King’s struggle to recapture his passion for music is mirrored in the film’s opening moments: a montage of New York set to "Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin’" from Oklahoma!—a jarring choice for a man who built his career on rap and R&B. As Mashable observes, "King is so out of touch with his own musical inspirations at this moment. It’s not until King is back on the streets that he can reconnect with that passion."
The film’s climax brings King face to face with Yung Felon, a ferocious rapper portrayed by A$AP Rocky. Their confrontation is electric, a generational and ideological clash that pits old-school music industry values against the rise of digital platforms and social media stardom. According to Vulture, "the first scene in which he and Washington face off is half generational confrontation, half rap battle; it’s a duel between two different styles of charismatic Black masculinity." Rocky, already known for his music and previous film roles, delivers what many critics are calling a breakthrough performance, matching Washington’s gravitas with raw, youthful intensity.
The supporting cast is equally strong. Jeffrey Wright brings depth to the role of Paul, the grieving father and ex-con who bristles at the subtle racism of law enforcement. Ilfenesh Hadera, though given less to do, embodies the quiet strength of David’s wife, Pam. Cameos from Ice Spice, Anthony Ramos, and Wendell Pierce add texture and authenticity to Lee’s vision of New York.
Not every risk pays off. Some critics, like those at Vulture, have noted that the film’s transitions between intimate character study and sprawling crime thriller can feel uneven, and that the screenplay occasionally falters with dialogue that’s too on-the-nose. But the ambition of the project—its sweeping visuals, its celebration of Black culture, and its willingness to wrestle with big questions—has drawn widespread admiration. As Mashable puts it, "Lee is incredible. With Highest 2 Lowest, he richly reimagines Kurosawa’s film within his own lens, showcasing Black pride and New York pride with great joy."
Ultimately, Highest 2 Lowest stands as a testament to the enduring partnership between Spike Lee and Denzel Washington. It’s a film that asks whether legacy is measured by what we build, what we save, or what we’re willing to risk for others. And in the hands of these artists, that question lands with the force of a subway train barreling through the city at rush hour.
