Axel Foley
Posts: 731
Joined: 15/10/2005
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The worst that could be said about American Gangster is that it is a very good film, which stops some way short of greatness. That one would choose to say such a thing provides an idea of the sort of expectations that have been raised. Directed by Ridley Scott and starring Denzel Washington and Russell Crowe, with a plethora of top-drawer character support in addition, the cognoscenti anticipated an extravaganza to rival a Caesar's triumph - as would befit the work of a director who gave us charging chariots and rampaging tigers in the Colosseum.
It isn't that, but in detailing the game of cat and mouse between the flamboyant gangster, Frank Lucas (Washington), and driven cop, Richie Roberts (Crowe), it is still riveting viewing. The opening is a punch to the guts, as we witness Lucas dispatching an enemy in the first of the film's bouts of hard violence. It's an introduction that we can't forget: no matter how kindly Lucas can seem when with family the thought is always there that at any moment he might explode.
This concept is most brilliantly illustrated in a couplet of scenes set in a diner. Both are showcases for the effortless cool that Washington brings to the role. Firstly, Lucas harassed by a rival continues with his breakfast calmly shaking sugar into his coffee, as the hood demands a payment. Washington gives his best poker face before standing up, passing over a couple of notes, and delivering a cutting kiss-off. Scene two sees Lucas at the table with his brothers: it's a picture of brotherly love. This time he spies the hood out on the street, strolls over in his kingly, dapper fashion before ending the rivalry in a swift and calculated flash.
Against such a magnetic presence, Crowe has his work cut out making Roberts compelling. However, he achieves this with his customary grit and determination. Roberts is driven and intense, often shown displaying a lack of attention to his family. He can't even have a conversation with his estranged wife without stopping to blast a group of kids messing around in the background. Ultimately, he understands his faults and in a moment of emotional power, he admits that he's not up to keeping his son, Crowe's face crumpling in pain as he does so.
Scott chooses a structure in which the perspective flits from Lucas to Roberts and in doing so, he creates two worlds for each to inhabit. The former resides in plush homes and hangs out in glittery night-clubs, while the latter lives in an average suburban neighbourhood and spends a lot of time waiting in worn out automobiles. During a montage depicting each man's Christmas, dinner Scott uses such backdrops to capture the nature of both men: Lucas and family sit around a kingly table as he carves a huge turkey; Roberts chows down on a tuna sandwich, alone and plotting his next move. It is a scene typical of the director, describing characters without recourse to reams of dialogue, and confirms (unlike some criticisms of the film) that this is clearly his show.
In fact, the hint of the auteur can be found in a number of other aspects in the film. Scott's perennial theme of honour is clearly in place in the lives of both men. Lucas refuses to bow down to any competitors and stands up to the bent cops after his money. Roberts' code involves doing the right thing no matter what. Then there's Scott's penchant for backing an outsider, with both protagonist's on the edge of their spheres in much the same way as a Rick Deckard or a Balian of Ibelin or even a Jordan O'Neill (that's G.I. Jane if you're wondering).
Ok he never conjures up an image as magical as Harvey Keitel staring out across the Dordogne or Roy Batty dropping from a glittering, industrial post-apocalypse L.A., but this still looks better than the majority of its competition. Actually, the best images of the piece aren't epic or glorious. In a departure from his norm (even at this stage of Scott's career he is interested in trying something new) he expertly outlines the grittier side of things. Take the haunting image of a whacked out mother, her leg still bleeding from the heroin intake, inter-cut with Lucas's power trip. He may be indisputably cool, but there's no hiding from his depredations.
In its anti-heroic depiction of Lucas, American Gangster is far from the more realistic approach of a Scorsese or procedural focus of a Michael Mann. If viewers are getting a sense of "seen it before" it is actually to the films of Cagney and the golden age of the gangster that they should look. In mythologising the criminal and creating a stylised world for him to exist, Scott's influences go far. The coda, however, suggests that he could maybe have taken us somewhere else, as gangster and cop come together. Maybe if that had been taken further American Gangster could've been a landmark, but as it stands it is a strong enough addition to the genre.
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