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American GangsterRidley Scott has always been a director who works best with an eye on either the past or the future - think his take on ancient Rome for Gladiator or the sci-fi worlds he created in Alien and Blade Runner. But when it comes to the contemporary, a talent like Scott's is often squandered. There's something about this former advertising guru's eye that seems better suited to visualising faraway lands than the everyday. Just look at 2006's Provence tale A Good Year.
That same failing might prevent American Gangster from ever being regarded as an out-and-out classic. It's a solid, entertaining, even compelling tale enlivened by some bold performances, but to put it up alongside The Godfather or GoodFellas would be stretching it. Scott isn't really smart enough to pull that off - perhaps because he comes from a background far removed from the criminal underbelly he's portraying. One wonders what, say, Spike Lee might've made of this story.
Yet there's no denying the epic scale of both Steven Zaillian's (Hannibal; Gangs Of New York) script and the lead performances. Washington is very well cast as rising drug-lord Frank Lucas, not least because they seem to share an intelligence and restraint that is rare in both their professions. And in the parallel story of federal investigator Richie Roberts, who is plotting to bring down "the most dangerous man walking the streets of our city," Crowe represses his usual grandstanding and convinces us he's capable of playing a possessed man, blessed with integrity and tenacity in equal measure.
The film begins as Lucas, a driver and collector for legendary Harlem hood Bumpy Johnson (Williams III), witnesses the death of his mentor in 1968. Immediately seeing a gap in the market, he sets up a deal to import pure heroin from the jungles of Thailand, smuggled via US military planes returning from the Vietnam War. Undercutting the competition by offering his high quality product at lower prices, Lucas is soon coining in the cash while keeping an incredibly low profile. As he tells his brother Huey (Ejiofor), "the loudest one in the room is the weakest one in the room."
For the most part, this rings true, as Lucas presents an image to the world of a church-going family man. Only occasionally does Scott let this slip - in particular a scene where he guns down a rival in broad daylight in Harlem, which seems far-fetched given his cautious approach to business. Meanwhile, his downfall is being orchestrated by Roberts.
With a reputation for honesty, cultivated after he recovered $1 million in a raid and handed it in, Roberts is the New Jersey Jewish cop who increasingly comes to realise how many of the NYPD (symbolised by Brolin's vile enforcer) are on the take. In other words, it's Scarface meets Serpico.
Sadly, Scott's lack of originality hampers the film. Take his decision to use the classic Bobby Womack song 'Across 110th Street' on the soundtrack - originally the title track for the 1972 blaxploitation film. Quentin Tarantino's use of it in Jackie Brown was a cunning reference to the earlier movie. With Scott, it just seems lazy.
Likewise, there are times when it feels like Scott has just had a marathon session watching the best American crime movies going. The end, for example, as Lucas and Roberts come face-to-face outside a church, has the distinct tableaux-like feel of the scene on the wasteland in The French Connection.
But when American Gangster hits, it hits hard. Great support, from Brolin to Cuba Gooding Jr and Armand Assante, as Lucas's rivals, to fine cinematography from Harris Savides, keeps a lengthy story effervescent. And with two Oscar winners on either side of the law, the film never feels unbalanced. Even the violence is sporadic and kept to a minimum - and though this will please some, it's perhaps another reason why American Gangster doesn't match up to the best of Scorsese and Coppola. Still, as Hollywood gangster movies go, this is in the heavyweight division.
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