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‘Highest 2 Lowest’ Review: Denzel Washington and Spike Lee Reunite in Dazzling Thriller Suffused With Lush New York City Vibes

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‘Highest 2 Lowest’ Review: Denzel Washington and Spike Lee Reunite in Dazzling Thriller Suffused With Lush New York City Vibes

A single card credit at the end of Spike Lee’s hugely entertaining crime thriller Highest 2 Lowest reads: “Inspired by the master, Akira Kurosawa.” That tribute feels not in the least like someone paying lip service. Reinterpreting the giant of Japanese cinema’s 1963 classic, High and Low, a tense police procedural with a sharp dissection of social class structures, Lee and screenwriter Alan Fox handle the material with the utmost care and respect. At the same time, they transpose the narrative spine to an environment Lee knows intimately, allowing the director to make the film his own, with wit, high style and kinetic energy to burn.

Highest 2 Lowest is Lee’s first feature set and shot in New York since 2012’s Red Hook Summer, and that absence seems to have reignited his love for the city as a visual playground in ways that vibrate throughout.

Highest 2 Lowest

The Bottom Line

All highs, no lows.

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Venue: Cannes Film Festival (Out of Competition)
Release date: Friday, Aug. 22
Cast: Denzel Washington, Jeffrey Wright, Ilfenesh Hadera, A$AP Rocky, Aubrey Joseph, Dean Winters, LaChanze, John Douglas Thompson
Director: Spike Lee
Screenwriter: Alan Fox, based on the novel King’s Ransom, by Ed McBain, and the Akira Kurosawa film High and Low

Rated R,
2 hours 14 minutes

That impression is planted instantly by the stunner of an opening — set to “Oh, What a Beautiful Mornin’” from Oklahoma! Cinematographer Matthew Libatique’s cameras glide in swoon-inducing wide shots around Manhattan and Brooklyn, kissed by pastel morning light. Conspicuously, the frame catches a large all-caps pink neon at the top of a building that reads simply, “WELCOME,” which might be a subtle nod to the pink factory smoke in Kurosawa’s otherwise B&W original.

The mobile camera eventually settles on a luxury apartment block in Dumbo, panning up to find Denzel Washington, as music industry mogul David King, talking business on his cell on the penthouse balcony. Right away we can see he’s a man bristling with confidence, beaming from ear to ear about what he believes is a sure-thing deal set to go through.

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This is Washington’s fifth movie with Lee, and they clearly have a shorthand that helps them dance to each other’s rhythms. The collaboration this new movie most recalls is another foray into genre filmmaking, the 2006 heist caper Inside Man, less for the crime elements than the precision-tooled plot engine, snappy pacing and crackling energy.

The talented Libatique also shot that film, but his work here is next-level; it’s a great-looking movie with a sumptuous visual sheen that looks the way good cashmere feels. Lee shakes up the compositions with playful flourishes like wipes using the logo of David’s record company, split screen with a row of guns as the dividing line, and a stylized insert conceived like a music video and performed by a singer behind bars in an orange jumpsuit, magically flanked by twerking backup dancers.

When David’s elegant wife Pam (Ilfenesh Hadera) asks him for their usual fat-check donation to a city museum whose board she sits on, he tells her to hold off and rein in expenses for a while. This is not something she’s used to hearing.     

Their teenage son Trey (Aubrey Joseph), however, is used to hearing disappointments and broken promises from his dad. David hasn’t gotten around to listening to a demo for a female artist that aspiring music manager Trey hopes he will sign, and he offers a pat apology when he rushes off to a business meeting rather than staying to watch Trey and his best friend Kyle (Elijah Wright) at basketball practice. (In one of several winks at fellow basketball junkies, Lee casts former Boston Celtics and L.A. Lakers player Rick Fox as one of the team’s coaches).

The meeting that pulls David away is an audacious plan to up his shares to a majority stake in Stackin’ Hits and take back control of the company he spent 25 years building up to chart domination, peaking in the early 2000s. Needing to psych himself up, he tells his driver, Paul (Jeffrey Wright, Kyle’s father onscreen and off), “I need a theme!” Paul obliges by blasting the evergreen McFadden & Whitehead disco hit “Ain’t No Stoppin’ Us Now” on the car stereo.

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Wearing a sharp suit and killer shades, he strides into the company’s office building as if he already owns everything. But he meets opposition when veteran board member Patrick (Michael Potts) informs him they have decided it’s time to sell to a larger music biz outfit that has been circling for a while. He later reveals to Pam, who’s skeptical, that he’s mortgaged the penthouse and their house in Sag Harbor to take out a hefty loan and wants to pursue the deal, despite the wishes of the uncooperative board.

But when a call comes, revealing that Trey has been kidnapped, the company takeover bid gets nudged aside by the family crisis. A team of detectives — led by Earl Bridges (John Douglas Thompson), Bell (LaChanze) and Higgins (Dean Winters), the latter a smug white dude who immediately causes friction with David — sets up operations in their dining room to trace calls. The kidnapper demands a $17.5 million ransom, otherwise threatening to kill Trey.

Pam says of course they’ll pay and David agrees. But when Trey is found and it emerges that the kidnapper got the boys mixed up and took Kyle instead but has not changed his terms, David hesitates, $17.5 million being a lot to pay for someone else’s kid — even his godson, the child of his right-hand man. Far more than halting David’s business plans, that amount of money would wipe them out.

Among the most significant changes is the reconception of the driver character. In Kurosawa’s version, the chauffeur was an exceedingly meek man who got down on the floor to beg his stern shoe-manufacturer boss, played by the great Toshiro Mifune, to save his son. Paul is pugnacious, especially with the detectives when his criminal past prompts them to question him as a subject. He’s also not one to bow and scrape with David, even though he’s indebted to him for giving him a job and a fresh start.

One of the key themes of Fox’s screenplay is attention as currency. This plays out on social media with an outpouring of love for beloved industry figure David when his son appears to be in danger, but shifts abruptly when the full story emerges, generating unfounded headlines like “Nepo Kid Trey Set Up Friend for Kidnapping.”

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David does eventually agree to pay, based on the assumption that the cops will catch the criminal and retrieve the money. A dolly zoom underscores what a sobering risk this is for David, especially with the suits at Stackin’ moving to strongarm him out of the company and even threatening legal action.

The second part of the movie kicks into high gear with an exhilarating train set-piece that might represent some of Lee’s most technically astounding direction. The kidnapper demands that David handle the cash drop-off himself on a Manhattan-bound 4 train, with further details to be communicated on his cell.

Lee makes the action more propulsive by staging it against the backdrop of Puerto Rican Day celebrations, with hundreds dancing to a live performance by Latin music great Eddie Palmieri and his orchestra, blocking access to a strategic subway stop. The situation on the train is equally chaotic after a noisy mob of baseball fans get on at Yankee Stadium.

The exchange doesn’t quite go as planned, and the kidnapper and his crew are way more organized and forward-planning than the detectives anticipated, repeatedly throwing them off the trail with decoys and swaps between motorcyclists all clad in the same head-to-toe black. It’s a tremendously exciting sequence, expertly sustained.

The kidnapper honors his promise to release Kyle, who turns up dazed but otherwise unharmed in a Bronx skate park after being bound and gagged somewhere in a basement bathtub for days. He’s unable to help much with clues, but he is able to hum a few notes of a rap tune that was thumping through the walls on repeat.

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This proves invaluable to David, with his famous ear for music, but when he traces the singer through a shady contact of Paul, the cops are dismissive of his findings, Higgins more than anyone. David and Paul decide to track down the singer — one of countless struggling artists denied a foot in the door at Stackin’ — on their own, without waiting for law enforcement to catch up.

Of course, the movie swivels onto familiar Hollywood ground when Washington’s character becomes almost an action hero, despite prickly edges and an unsympathetic demeanor that make him almost an antihero. But damned if it doesn’t make for gripping fun, ushering in an amusing turn from Isis “Ice Spice” Gaston and a blindingly charismatic one from A$AP Rocky, playing characters best not discussed, for spoiler reasons.

One scene sure to be an audience favorite has David and his antagonist facing off on either side of the glass wall in a recording studio, sparking a hilarious impromptu rap battle of sorts. The dynamic is echoed soon in a prison visit, in which Lee narrows the height of the frame to squeeze the characters’ tense interaction.

The film is packed with great music, starting with Howard Drossin’s mood-shifting score, which ranges from melancholy piano to cascades of jazz, and two electrifying performances that add a massive charge. One of those is the title song, a big-build power anthem belted to the heavens by singer Aiyana-Lee. And the cast is top-to-toe excellent, with special honors to Washington, Jeffrey Wright and A$AP Rocky, who follows his work in If I Had Legs I’d Kick You with further proof of a megawatt scree presence.

Lee’s adaptation doesn’t match the complexities of class and hierarchy and even dynamics in a marriage that are such a fascinating part of the Kurosawa. Then again, he’s not trying to, and this is a universe away from the disappointment of Oldboy, his 2013 remake of the Park Chan-wook thriller. The director is in the role of the flashy, panache-y showman here, and he plays it to perfection, delivering a big, highly polished chunk of movie that’s pure enjoyment.

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Movie Reviews

Movie Review – Power Ballad (2026)

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Movie Review – Power Ballad (2026)

Power Ballad, 2026.

Directed by John Carney.
Starring Paul Rudd, Nick Jonas, Peter McDonald, Marcella Plunkett, Rory Keenan, Keith McErlean, Paul Reid, Beth Fallon, Havana Rose Liu, Jack Reynor, Naoimh Whelton, Mae Higgins, Ian Dillon, Kelly Thornton, Ebimie Anthony, Ruby Conway Dunne, Dean Panter, Juliette Crosbie, Robert Mitchell, Martha Breen, Dylan Kelly, Kellie El Mayss, and Alexa Scout Fagen.

SYNOPSIS:

Rick, a washed-up wedding singer, and Danny, a fading boy band star, bond over music and a late-night jam session. When Danny turns Rick’s song into a hit, Rick sets out to reclaim the recognition he believes he deserves.

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Co-writer/director John Carney (here crafting the screenplay alongside supporting actor Peter McDonald) has an established track record of contemporary musicals with catchy original tunes that have long been flying under the radar for Academy Award consideration, but it should also be pointed out that the success of his films also comes from placing a sharp and acutely insightful emphasis on the creative process and the characters themselves. That is especially true for his latest work, Power Ballad, which features Paul Rudd as an Ireland-based wedding singer cover band frontman, Rick Power, perhaps like many of us coming into the film, still living in another time, or maligning the fact that rock and roll, for the most part, is dying off to other genres, particularly bubblegum mainstream-friendly pop.

As such, Rick’s next gig takes him and the band to Los Angeles for the wedding of a relative of once-popular musician Danny Wilson (played by Nick Jonas, which gives viewers some idea of the music the character creates), failing to keep up with his fellow boy band mates, who have all apparently gone on to bigger and brighter things in the wake of breaking up and going their separate ways. In the hours after the ceremony, they drunkenly get together to kick around ideas, experiment with collaborating on music, and mostly conclude that, while they may come from different genres with wildly different perspectives on art and on each other, there is real talent. In the moment, it appears that mutual respect has been agreed upon.

That only lasts for about 6 months, when Rick Power, amusingly, finds out while walking around a mall that Danny has taken the song he wrote, ” I Can’t Write a Song Without You”, slapped a bridge on it, and become a worldwide sensation without even asking if he would like to be cut into a fraction of the profits. More frustrating and possibly even defeating regarding the happiness of his family is that neither Rick’s wife (Marcella Plunkett) nor his teenage daughter (Beth Fallon) expresses any belief that he could be capable of writing those lyrics. On some level, it’s also likely humiliating that said daughter, who regularly playfully mocks his songwriting ideas, sings along to the hit song.

And since this is a John Carney film, the song is undoubtedly going to stick with viewers not only for its catchiness and rhythms, but also for what the lyrics mean for each character and art bearing a more personal meaning to the actual creator, who oftentimes might be the only one who knows the true emotional core and intent behind it. For Danny, it seems like a love song, but throughout, there is a sense that it might have meant something else to Rick when they were originally writing it together. Meanwhile, whenever Danny shows a trace of an awakening consciousness regarding his lack of moral ethics, his manager (played by John Carney regular Jack Reynor) is there to insist he bury those feelings, that it would be a bad look if word got out he mostly stole the song from a wedding singer of all people. 

Nevertheless, with The Wedding Singer‘s DNA in its humor, the ensuing spiral eventually leads Rick Power (with Paul Rudd channeling some of that effortless charm into righteous anger) and his loyal bandmate, Sandy (Peter McDonald), to Los Angeles to confront Danny in person. Naturally, there are plenty of laughs along the way, all while the storytelling shifts into emotional territory, where it is no longer just about being cheated out of fame and fortune but about pursuing the truth and having that ambition and talent validated. For as much as Danny’s reasonings and justifications will make one want to punch him in the face, there is also some merit to his argument that no matter how good a piece of art is, it’s also about how it is packaged and who is putting it out there in the world.

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This might also sound like a film with predictable plotting, which is true, but only to an extent. Some characters are confoundingly shoved aside, others are entirely one-dimensional, and there are a number of contrivances here to set the conflict in motion, not to mention the occasional scene that is perhaps a bit too much (a car accident that is almost immediately brushed off and comes to feel unnecessary in hindsight, for example), but there are genuinely subversive qualities in how this story unfolds, where it goes, and where it ultimately ends up.

That is also what lends Power Ballad much of its power: it’s not about lingering and hammering home those emotional beats and reveals, but about tucking them away into something smaller and more minimalist that turns out to be much more moving and sincere. 

Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★

Robert Kojder

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=embed/playlist

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Film Review: “The Devil Wears Prada 2”

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Film Review: “The Devil Wears Prada 2”

Hello, dear reader! Do you like what you read here at Omnivorous? Do you like reading fun but insightful takes on all things pop culture? Do you like supporting indie writers? If so, then please consider becoming a subscriber and get the newsletter delivered straight to your inbox. There are a number of paid options, but you can also sign up for free! Every little bit helps. Thanks for reading and now, on with the show!

Warning: Full spoilers for the film follow.

I’ve made no secret of the fact that I’m as sick of sequels as many other people. Every so often, however, one comes along that manages to not only match its predecessor’s energy but also manages to equal it, that strides across the screen with such panache and style that you find yourself absolutely captivated.

The Devil Wears Prada 2 is one such film.

Now, I’ll admit that I was more than a little skeptical when I found out there was going to be a sequel to a film that was released back in the halcyon days when one-and-done was more the norm than the exception. However, given the fact that the film managed to pull together the same gang–including director David Frankel–I figured it was at least giving it a shot. I’m certainly glad I did. The film made me laugh more than I ever expected and, more than that, it held me spellbound, drawing me back into this world of high fashion and high ideals and delicious bitchery. It was everything I wanted, and perhaps a little bit more.

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When the story opens, our beloved Andy has been working as a successful journalist and is poised to receive a prestigious award; unfortunately, her victory is spoiled by the announcement that she, along with her colleagues, have been laid off. All is not lost, however, and she’s soon brought on to help head up the features department at Runway, where she once again finds herself desperately seeking approval from Miranda Priestly, who resents having this young woman thrust upon her. As the film proves, however, the two women have far more in common than either of them might think, and they have to work together to save Runway and perhaps journalism itself.

To say that Meryl Streep devours this role would be a bit of an understatement. Obviously Streep has had many, many, many great roles during her long and storied career, but for my money Miranda Priestly will always be my favorite. To begin with, there’s the fact that she’s fucking gorgeous, with her shock of white hair, her immaculate outfits, and her way of commanding every eye in a room. However, it’s not just her looks; Miranda has depth and genuine emotional investments, even though these might not always be obvious to the people in her orbit. She might be demanding and imperious and at times downright callous, but the thing is that she genuinely believes in what she preaches. She believes in human beauty and achievement, and she’s willing to go to great lengths to celebrate those things, and if you can’t keep up with her, or if you’re not as invested in them as she is, then that’s a you problem.

For her part, Hathaway is reliably bubbly and effervescent as Andy, a woman who has gone from being a wide-eyed neophyte to a highly-respected and passionate journalist. The brilliance of Hathaway’s performance lies in her ability to capture so many different elements of Andy’s character. She is, at once, still the same wide-eyed and somewhat naive woman she was when she was in her 20s and also someone who believes fiercely and passionately in journalism and what it means to American society and culture writ large. Maybe it’s just the millennial in me, but I adore both Hathaway and this character. They both remind us that millennials, for all that the general culture and our elders (and our juniors!) like to mock us, really do believe in things and, just as importantly, we believe they’re worth fighting for.

The mark of a truly great film–and, for that matter, sequel–is its ability to imbue even its supporting characters with their own arcs and their own emotional stakes. In that respect, too, The Devil Wears Prada 2 succeeds, in that it gives both Tucci’s Nigel and Blunt’s Emily their own journeys. For Nigel, this revolves around his desire to be more than just Miranda’s second-in-command. One can easily see why a man of his obvious taste and skill would want something more, and Tucci imbues him with just enough vulnerability that you can see his desire flicker of his eyes. He also has his fair share of softer moments, and I love the chemistry between Hathaway and Tucci.

In some ways, Emily’s story has been even more tragic than Nigel’s, if no less a result of Miranda, who essentially pushed her out of Runway because of her belief that she lacked the creative vision to really flourish there. Blunt, of course, is absolutely in her element, and though she’s as sharp-tongued as ever, there’s still enough human warmth behind her crisp delivery to allow us to see her as more than just a villain. She is, instead, someone with her own struggles and failures and motivations and, to be quite honest, she’s a delight.

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Indeed, if anyone can be said to be the villain of this film, it would have to be the tech overlords–so perfectly embodied by Justin Theroux and B.J. Novak–who play their respective billionaires with just the right amount of preening idiocy and suave corporate ruthlessness. They care about nothing and no one but themselves and making sure they get as much money as they can before they destroy the very institutions they control. And, though some have sneered at the film’s commentary about the state of journalism and the ongoing corporate takeover and hollowing out of our cultural life and institutions, I actually think that’s precisely what gives the film its texture, its depth, and its bite. Because Miranda and Andy–and Nigel, and even Emily, in her own twisted way–care about beauty and fashion and human achievement, and because they’re performed with such depth and emotional authenticity by the film’s stars, we come to care about these things, too.

Even if every other aspect of this film had failed, I still would’ve enjoyed and praised the extent to which it highlights the importance of friendship and bonds and respect between and among women. Though Miranda is at first as dismissive of Andy as she was 20 years ago–in large part, one suspects, because Andy has been foisted on her by her corporate master–she gradually gains a grudging respect One of the most poignant scenes, however, belongs to Emily and Andy, who share one last scene together, forging a friendship they should have had years before but which they both clearly need. Sometimes, when you get down to it, all you really need to thrive is a good friend and a basket of fries.

Look, if this is what millennial nostalgia is going to look and feel like when it comes to the movies, we could do a whole lot worse than The Devil Wears Prada 2. This is a sequel that actually has some things to say but that doesn’t lose sight of the fact that its primary purpose is to entertain and delight us. Fortunately for all of us, it manages to do both. What a remarkable gift!

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MOVIE REVIEW: Cryptid Terror Meets Slasher-style Suspense In “THE YETI” – Rue Morgue

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MOVIE REVIEW: Cryptid Terror Meets Slasher-style Suspense In “THE YETI” – Rue Morgue

By BREANNA WHIPPLE

Starring Brittany Allen, Christina Bennett Lind and Linc Hand
Written and Directed by Gene Gallerano and William Pisciotta
Well Go USA Entertainment 

If you have a soft spot for the striking contrast of blood and snow, THE YETI from filmmakers Gene Gallerano and William Pisciotta is not to be missed. Set just a couple of years after the end of World War II, THE YETI follows an unlikely group as they set out to rescue two men who have vanished in the Alaskan wilderness. However, unknown to them, an ancient beast stalks the woods, feeding on the entrails of those unfortunate enough to cross its path. An abundance of gore and grisliness ensues immediately, sure to warm the hearts of beast-horror heathens. 

In general, cryptid movies come in two varieties: scary and silly. For some reason, comic relief cannot be left out of the equation when it comes to these legendary creatures. For example, Night of the Demon (1983) has a frightening conclusion that features Sasquatch wreaking havoc on an isolated cabin. Yet, earlier on in the film, he rips a motorcyclist’s “appendage” off when he stops on the side of the road to relieve himself. There is always some sort of goofy catch that can detract from the scare factor. Sure, THE YETI has funny moments, but they arrive in the exaggerated archetypes of the outlandish characters. Not a single aspect suffers from a lack of seriousness despite the comedic elements.

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 Leaning into the era absolutely works in this case, too. It feels like an examination of American propaganda above all else, but it also commits to the aesthetics and generalized insanity of the atomic age. It carries a vibe not dissimilar to the adventures found in great American novels, while presenting visuals that evoke the colourful romanticism of pulp fiction. Though the creature is always the most important element of monster movies, it is also worth noting that the characters are quite dynamic and keep the film entertaining whe its not on screen. 

The pacing is fantastic. Not a moment of screen time is wasted, and it advances as any good beast-film should. THE YETI works like Jaws (1975) and Grizzly (1976) in that it feels like a slasher film more than anything else. Like slashers, it doesn’t skimp on the gore, either – and the gore looks good! The creature design is also worth complimenting. It is beautiful to see an entire team behind the creature in these days of AI slop. Encounters with the creature are never safe, either; Each feels a little akin to the bear mauling scene in The Revenant (2015). 

With the recent success of the Fallout (2024-) series, the arrival of THE YETI is kismet. Cinema is a form of escapism, one that can come in many shapes and sizes. And with the state of the world right now, we need it more than ever. With its comic book atmosphere, quick pacing, beautifully crafted creature and fantastically written story, THE YETI makes for one hell of a fun getaway.

THE YETI is now streaming on major digital platforms.

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