Review: American Gangster
Judges, lawyers, cops, politicians. They stop bringing dope into this country, about a hundred thousand people are gonna be out of a job.
American Gangster is about war profiteering. This is not its only theme, but it certainly is one. It addresses this theme directly on two levels and indirectly on a third level. The film demonstrates how people make a living from war and conflict, often paradoxically. Frank Lucas profits directly from the Vietnam War while Ritchie Roberts from directly from Frank Lucas. We are all enmeshed in the cycle, each and every one of us is somehow touched by and addicted to the presence of War in our world, whether it is the war on drugs or even the war on terror.
But before I get into the cultural impact of American Gangster, I’ll step back and take a look at the film as if it were purely a product of industry and not artwork. In short, I’ll entertain the fantasy that movies somehow exist outside of the influence or reach of current events and culture.
This is a duel between two of the most amazing actors of this current generation, Denzel Washington (Frank Lucas) and Russel Crowe (Ritchie Roberts). Throw in Leonardo DiCaprio, Viggo Mortensen, and Daniel Day-Lewis, and you’ve got yourself a nicely rounded acting Dream Team. There is hardly a scene that doesn’t involve either Washington or Crowe, and this benefits the movie immensely. The Crowe scenes tend to drag a little more than the Washington scenes, which in my opinion provides further support to who the better actor is.
Crowe’s Roberts is a careful mixture of confident and pathetic. He is overweight and initially timid, yet we see in his eyes a latent ferocity and tenacity waiting to be unleashed or patiently directed. His scruples collide with the ambiguous morals of other narcotics agents, which provides most of the motivation and conflict in his half of the plot. He seems to be the only cop in New York who isn’t on the take, and as a result, he is forced to set up his own independent operation to get the job done. Even so, he doesn’t even know what direction to head in with his job, as drug crime seems so rampant and confusing that it’s initially impossible to discern who the primary culprit could be.
Sound familiar? Fans of Al Pacino should recognize the protagonist from Serpico quite clearly. Ritchie Roberts is the 21st Century’s Frank Serpico, the cop who becomes an outlaw in the eyes of the establishment simply because he actually wants to catch the real outlaws. The difference between Serpico and American Gangster, however, its saving grace in that regard, is the fact that Roberts only represents half of the plot. Other than that, this would be nothing more than a rehash of the stereotypical lone ranger-style of investigator movies.
Frank Lucas is the other half, and I’m reminded of another Pacino film, Carlito’s Way. At the same time, Washington’s portrayal of Lucas reminds me of his character Alonzo in Training Day who, ironically, was a corrupt cop. Washington thrives in the intensity that Lucas demands of him. The film starts with a cold-blooded murder by Lucas after lighting the man on fire. Lucas assaults an insulting partygoer at his own home. He shoots a rival in the middle of a crowded street in broad daylight before calmly returning to his table in a corner cafe. He kills with his eyes, with his glower, with the gravelly ice of his voice. Lucas commands our attention in the same way that Alonzo did, and the pure pleasure of Washington’s performance is the only distraction necessary to keep us from feeling like we’ve seen it all before.
Unfortunately, Lucas and Roberts meet only once; Washington and Crowe act together significantly in only one scene. But by this point in the film, this scene is a sweet dessert. Washington’s fiery intensity is contrasted against Crowe’s passive stoicism. Our eyes and ears feast.
Director Ridley Scott does his usual best, which is above average compared to other directors. Like a good above average director, Scott leaves the camera out of the movie. I didn’t feel like I was watching the action through the lens of a camera; rather, I was there. There’s nothing special or daring with his framing, blocking, or editing, but it tells the story seamlessly. Sometimes, though, I found myself watching two movies: one about Lucas, and one about Roberts. Perhaps the feeling is impossible to avoid, given the fact that both characters are (seem) necessary for the plot and yet do not meet until the end. I’m just saying that the feeling is there, and it hurts the story in a little, if unavoidable way.
But to address the story itself, we need to step out of the ‘entertainment fantasy’ that we’ve been walking through. Any film made within the last five years or within the next ten years that deals with the Vietnam War must call attention or connection to the the “War on Terror,” currently playing in a theater near you, assuming you live in Afghanistan or Iraq. This context affects our interpretation of just what Frank Lucas is doing to earn his living.
I said that American Gangster deals directly with two forms of war profiteering. The first is how Frank Lucas smuggles his drugs into the country. I am going to give away a major plot here, so skip the rest of this paragraph if you have yet to see the film and still want to be surprised. …Last chance to move on. All right, here we go. Frank Lucas smuggles his drugs into the country by hiding them in the coffins of dead U.S. soldiers returning from Vietnam. Ironically, we have to go to the movies to see the coffins of U.S. soldiers, since the government won’t let the media show such photos to the public today.
This immediately causes outrage. We are intended to see Lucas as a monster, taking advantage of ‘our boys’ to make his drug money. Allegations of war profiteering were bad enough during World War II when it was merely about making unfair profits due to the lack of supply and high demand of necessary goods. But this is worse because it is about drugs.
But Ritchie Roberts alerts us to the paradox of the situation. If men like Lucas didn’t exist, men like Roberts wouldn’t have jobs. If our country didn’t go to war, how many men and women would lose their livelihoods? How many citizens of the United States work in factories that manufacture goods for use in the armed services? Without war, these people would have no jobs, and so lobbyists pressure politicians in various ways for various things. No one really wants to admit it, but we are all war profiteers in one way or another, and this is the second way that the film deals with this theme.
When we are so quick to condemn Lucas, should we be taking a harder look at ourselves? This is not to say that Lucas is an innocent man; he’s a drug dealer. But if the public in the film and the public in the audience condemns him for profiting off the war, is that such a fair thing to do?
The third method of dealing with this theme, as I mentioned, is indirect. Running in front of the film when I went to see it were three specific advertisements for war: one, a recruitment music video for the National Guard using the popular band Three Doors Down; two, a spot for the ultra-popular game Call of Duty 4: Modern Warfare; and three, a trailer for a steroid-injected Rambo. Interpret the implications as you will.
