High and Low (1963)

Capitalism Sucks (Plus Some Thoughts on Spike Lee’s Adaptation)

High and Low (1963), dir. Akira Kurosawa

Last August saw the release of Spike Lee’s Highest 2 Lowest, an adaptation of Akira Kurosawa’s crime thriller High and Low. Kurosawa’s film itself was an interpretation of Ed McBain’s novel King’s Ransom, in which he took a pulpy, straightforward plot and injected complexities of morality and class. Lee’s take on the framework offers interesting ideas yet doesn’t stick the landing, leaving Kurosawa’s rendition the version that endures.

Above the slums of postwar Yokohama lives Kingo Gondo, a local shoe designer who believes that high-quality craftsmanship is still best for the market. He finds himself at odds with the other executives, who want to pivot to cheap, low-quality shoes. Little do they know that Gondo is plotting to mortgage his entire property to buy greater control of the company. His best-laid plans go up in smoke when he receives a mysterious call from a man claiming to have kidnapped his young son and demanding the highest ransom in Japanese history. Gondo is prepared to pay whatever it takes to get his child back—until the family realizes the kidnapper has mistakenly abducted the chauffeur’s son instead. Still, the kidnapper refuses to budge on his demands.

Post–World War II Japan saw a widening gulf between social classes. Originally titled Heaven and Hell in Japanese, the film’s first half takes place entirely in Gondo’s hilltop home—sparkling clean, sparse, and white. The austerity emphasizes the theatrical blocking of characters fretting over Gondo’s moral dilemma: whether to pay the ransom for his driver’s child. The “Hell” of the second half plunges into a police procedural set in the depths of the city, where the kidnapper watches Gondo’s home in envy. These shots are visually cluttered and kinetic, the heat palpable and coats everyone in an oppressive layer of sweat.

The film examines the ambitions of both Gondo and the kidnapper, questioning whether either can truly control his economic fate. Although wealthy, Gondo’s desire to secure a larger share of the shoe company puts his family at financial risk. He believes he’s in control of his life and wealth—until he’s not. The kidnapper, by contrast, has never had control of his circumstances, and his grand attempt to seize it through the biggest kidnapping doesn’t go as planned. Perhaps maintaining control under the heel of capitalism is but a dream.

Spike Lee’s version keeps the general plot but reframes the message around themes of Black excellence and cultural gatekeeping. While many of the ideas are compelling, the execution is far sloppier. The film suffers from a lifeless script, redeemed only by a few bursts of energy that feel less constrained by it—notably a train sequence juxtaposed with the Puerto Rican Day Parade. A major change undercuts the moral tension at the heart of the Kingo Gondo character’s dilemma, and Lee’s attempt to mirror Kurosawa’s two-part structure feels less deliberate. The tone wavers, weighed down by a distracting, wallpaper soundtrack and lackluster performances—save for a standout turn by A$AP Rocky. A disappointing effort that falters in comparison to its predecessor.