Spike Lee is a cinematic chameleon who doesn't get enough respect for his ability to effortless jump between genres and styles. His unique worldview is so striking that, often, his films are seen as a genre of their own: Spike Lee Joints.

Yet Lee has consistently shown himself more than capable of switching things up. Be that with biopics, slapstick comedies, war films, or, with Highest 2 Lowest, thrillers that bleed into farce. Each is packed with Lee's favorites subjects: Power imbalances, ethics, money, generational gaps, and how New York continues to thrive even as forces around it seek to smother the vibrant community.

In Highest 2 Lowest, Lee takes the hierarchical nature of Kurosawa's world and applies it to present day. The names and titles have changed, but the attitudes have not. They've become, if possible, even more unspoken than in Kurosawa's time capsule of Tokyo in the 1960s.

Denzel Washington plays David King, a music producer lost in his own hubris and former glory. His record label is in trouble, and a sale looks inevitable. King claims to be nearly destitute, but it's hard to take seriously as he does so on the balcony of high-rise building overlooking the New York skyline. His live-in servant, Paul Christopher (Jeffrey Wright) is a childhood friend who did time upstate. Both pretend like the relationship is built on mutual respect, but watch how transactional it becomes the moment there is friction.

One day, thugs kidnap Paul's son by accident. Their target was King's offspring, but it's clear these would-be gangsters don't have a clear plan beyond getting rich. A ransom demand is made, and the police are involved. Which is to say they're there. How effective they are remains a mystery. In Lee's world, cops are still cops no matter how fancy they dress. Nevertheless, one more son needs to come home.

Highest 2 Lowest isn't a straightforward crime thriller. It's not quite a comedy, either. Instead, it lives in an odd middle ground, teetering into both genres when it pleases. The score by Howard Drossin emulates the tunes of Terence Blanchard beautifully, evoking the non-stop chaos King has built around him. At one point, King bemoans how he could just walk around the city listening to the music. Now, he can't focus on a single track. Everything about the film is built around this.

Watch, for example, how focused the soundtrack becomes as King rediscovers his agency. How the instruments seem to drop out as he and Christopher work together, not as master and servant, but two friends out for justice.

This is Denzel at his loosest in years. As King, he brings to the part the physicality of Toshiro Mifune, complete with ticks and overt gestures that peel away the closer King is driven to the edge. It's a part all about playing a part and the loss of a crafted image. When King finally meets the culprits, Lee frames them as two sides of a generational coin, both out to build an empire from what they've got.

In one fantastic sequence, Washington brings his extensive classical acting background to an almost rap battle, where he and a young upstart measure their mettle in a language both understand. It is as mythic, playful, and wild as anything Lee has crafted before.

At the premiere in Cannes, Highest 2 Lowest befuddled the audience. Piling out of the theater, I heard many complain how they couldn't pin down the tone. For me, the chaos was part of the beauty. When you're autistic, you put on a play every single day. Neurotypicals don't react well to us at the best of times. We have to mask, play nice, and make the deals we can. It's not the same experience as the world of racial injustices and imbalances Lee has explored his entire career. But it is cut from the same unfair cloth.

Watching Highest 2 Lowest, I could recognize the overwhelming cacophony and the desire to cut out the noise. It's not just opulence that drives King to live on the highest floor. It's because up there, the noise is so thin you can finally hear yourself think. We find places to isolate ourselves because that's where we can finally reveal our inner nature. Be that a recording studio or a penthouse, they're both safe spaces where, momentarily, we can be vulnerable.

Where Kurosawa explored the politics of identity through masculine hierarchy, Lee expands upon it with smart observations on American exceptionalism. Everyone is a displaced millionaire just waiting for their dues. We buy into a pyramid scheme the moment we're born. Those that make it to the top rarely have the hindsight to send the elevator back down.