American Lackluster
Our reviewer says 'American Gangster' doesn't live up to the hype
Courtesy Universal Studios
Denzel Washington stars in "American Gangster."
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Casey Menninger
Richmond.com
Friday, November 02, 2007
There are certain films the oft-used phrase "surefire hit" are stamped in from the moment the cameras start rolling.
These films, as a rule, are the chief beneficiaries of (a) upbeat prerelease chatter, (b) a to-die-for all-star cast, (c) the participation of the hot auteur-of-the-moment or (d) contains the name Harry Potter in the beginning of the title.
This is not fail-safe though. There is a practical subgenre of films heralded as the second coming of cinema on paper that turned out to be colossal disappointments the moment the theater doors closed.
It's a crapshoot. I confess to being burned on some of these films firsthand: for proof, see the deluge of current political-minded fare disappearing from theaters in record time or better still, don't. I had faith though that the once-in-a-lifetime pairing of our era's most charismatic actors in an unbeatable clash-of-the-titans setup could stop all that nonsense.
Denzel Washington + Russell Crowe in a ripped-from-the-headlines true-life crime tale. It couldn't lose, right?
Ha! I hate to pop all of Universal's balloons at once, but "American Gangster" is one of these dubious films and not the rah-rah great mafia masterpiece that the ubiquitous trailers are screaming at full pitch.
It doesn't come close. It is therefore safe to cross this one off all the Best Picture lists it has had a spot on since it began production.
It is not a bad film per se; it is at times absorbing and entertaining, but it doesn't reach the operatic heights of "The Godfather or "The Departed," to namedrop a couple of films this one is unabashedly attempting to recapture.
This is the chief problem. The nostalgic memories of greater films, from "Traffic" and "The French Connection" to "Serpico" and Goodfellas" hang on the proceedings as though a pall is in the air. These films did the same thing first, and more problematic, did it better.
It is going to be a big, fat commercial hit, but it's still not great. It flies at times in isolated moments, but it doesn't soar. It is, in fact, hard to remember a film so concerned at being great that it misses the boat on being good. If it focused on being a solid popcorn thriller that contained enough of a social commentary to resonate, that is one thing, but no, it also seems to feel that it is high art and a statement has to be made.
The trouble is, it can't see the forest for the trees.
The principal setup is promising. It tells the true-life rise and fall of Frank Lucas (Washington), the infamous drug lord in Nixon-era Harlem as he smuggles heroin into the United States hidden in the coffins of dead U.S. soldiers.
Lucas inherits his mafia empire after the death of his mentor (Clarence Williams III) and soon corners the local drug trade through producing a product that is purer than his competitors, selling it at half the price and reaping huge profits.
He succeeds in flooding drugs, crime and guns through the streets and becomes an icon, admired for his business acumen and profligate spending and feared for his brutal temper.
Before long, Lucas attempts to go legit as he becomes one of the Manhattan borough's biggest political supporters and catches the attention of idealistic cop Richie Roberts (Crowe), an honest police officer putting himself through school at night.
He is, in fact, so honest that he returns $1 million that doesn't belong to him and snuffs out corruption among NYPD's finest, much to the displeasure of his colleagues.
It is a lot more interesting on paper than the translation to film, and I can't help but imagine a much different film if it had the Martin Scorsese, Sidney Lumet or Steven Soderbergh directorial touch.
The acting is fine across-the-board, but it's nothing that hasn't been seen before. The real interest is in the supporting performances from Josh Brolin illustrating hitherto fore untapped depths as a corrupt cop and the presence of Ruby Dee in a glorified cameo as Lucas' mother.
It is undeniable that Washington holds the film together, but he's been much, much better before. The audience has seen him go to seed before, but this time, the thrill is gone.
Crowe, one of our more talented actors, drained of his natural charisma and this is the first film I can recall that he brings nothing special to the table.
The film's structure is adept at establishing parallel personalities among the protagonists and much of the credit here must go to screenwriter Steven Zaillian. Lucas is a ruthless businessman, but a traditional husband, and Roberts is an honest cop, but a failure as a husband and a deadbeat dad to boot.
The pair are often seen as dual parts of the same person, possessing a strict code of ethics that separates them from their corrupt counterparts.
The leads circle around each other and do not meet up in the same frame until late in the game. It comes at the end of the film, so it's as though it's "Sleepless in Seattle" for the mafia set. The entire film has been building up to this, but the meeting is oddly anticlimactic.
There is none of the electric heat or rat-a-tat dialogue that can be found in the similar diner scene among Pacino and De Niro in Michael Mann's similar "Heat." Instead, the scene is static and at almost three hours of running time to get here, the disappointment is palpable.
It's a shame. It coulda been a contender.
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