American Gangster Reviews

[Sonic Youth]

So far, American Gangster is starting out pretty well without breaking out. Even the Variety and HR reviewers acknowledge that the reservations they have about the film won't necessarily be shared by the general audience.

*Sigh* Guess I gotta see it. "Bribery, exoh-tion!"

[Big Magilla]

Tee, the revelations at the end of the Honeycutt review aren't exactly spoliers. Denzel Washingotn has been mentioning those facts on his various TV appeararances promoting the film.

[Mister Tee]

I wouldn't read this all the way through; there appear to be spoilers at the end.

Consensus seems to be decent/entertaining/not overwhelming. In other words, The Departed.


Hollywood Reporter/Kirk Honeycutt

The title is catchy but misleading. Frank Lucas was less an "American Gangster" than an original Old Gangster in sable, a caricature in the tradition of '70s blaxploitation flicks.

He is in fact a real-life character, an apparently highly attractive person -- likable even -- who made millions by killing people and ruining lives with the powdered death of heroin. Going up against this all-powerful yet ghostly figure who operates outside the old Mafia networks, is Richie Roberts, an incorruptible cop from the street who is determined put him in prison. Director Ridley Scott takes on these familiar subjects, themes and characters with a keen eye for the social fabric, false assumptions, suffocating corruption and vivid personalities that make such a story worth retelling.

So this is a gangster movie focused on character rather than action and on the intricacies of people's backgrounds, strategies and motivations. Whether it means to, the film plays off a clutch of old movies, from "The Godfather" and "Serpico" to "Superfly" and "Shaft." But Scott and writer Steven Zaillian make certain their Old Gangster is original and true to himself and his times rather than a concoction of movie fiction. Consequently, the movie is smooth and smart enough to attract a significant audience beyond the considerable fan base of its stars, Denzel Washington and Russell Crowe.

You do sense in this movie that its principals are returning to safe harbor. After a discouraging foray into feeble comedy by Scott and Crowe ("A Good Year") and Gothic Southern melodrama for Zaillian ("All the King's Men"), these artists scramble back to an emotional naturalism more aligned to their sensibilities. Even for Washington, who seldom makes a false step careerwise, the film represents a welcome return to the larger-than-life villainy he performed so well in 2001's "Training Day."
Zaillian, working from Mark Jacobson's magazine portrait of Lucas -- a heroin kingpin of Harlem in the late '60s and early '70s -- sets two men on a collision course. Lucas (Washington), a country lad from North Carolina, is the nearly invisible driver and right-hand man to Ellsworth "Bumpy" Johnson, the most famous of Harlem gangsters. (So famous that this is his fourth movie reincarnation. Moses Gunn played him in "Shaft," and Lawrence Fishburne twice in "The Cotton Club" and "Hoodlum.") When Bumpy dies in his arms, Frank moves into the vacuum caused by his death with ruthless guile and a friendly personality.

Meanwhile, Richie Roberts (Crowe), a street-smart drug cop in New Jersey, is Frank's opposite: He can't help alienating everyone who crosses his path. His wife wants a divorce, insisting he leads a life entirely unsuitable to the welfare of their only child. Fellow cops shun him from the moment he brings in nearly a million dollars of recovered drug money. No one can understand why he didn't keep it, which says a lot about the state of policing in the New York/New Jersey area in 1968.

Frank's stroke of genius in the drug trade is to cut out the middleman. He flies to Thailand, takes a boat up the river in the Golden Triangle, makes a deal with a Chinese general, then arranges through an in-law to ship the kilos to New York in military planes coming back from Vietnam. His heroin, branded Blue Magic, hits the street twice as good and half as much as the competition.

It is so pure that dead junkies turn up all over New York. The police are baffled but look in all the wrong places. It never occurs to them that a black man is behind the scheme. Richie, whose whacked-out partner is one of Blue Magic's victims, is given his own task force. He finally targets Frank, but no one will believe him.

Frank flies under the radar. He hires only relatives -- a veritable army of brothers like Huey Lucas (Chiwetel Ejiofor) as well as cousins -- whom he sets up with storefront businesses that function as drug-distribution centers. He maintains a low profile and adheres to a rigid code of conduct. His major weekly outings are to church with his mother (the inestimable Ruby Dee) or to his nightclub with wife Eva (Lymari Nadal), a former Miss Puerto Rico.

Richie's major opposition comes from within. New York's anti-drug task force, the Special Investigations Unit, is rife with corruption. As personified by Detective Trupo (a strutting Josh Brolin), the SIU takes its cut right off the top.

In a story that ranges from the jungles of Harlem and Thailand to North Carolina backwoods, Scott is both hurried and leisurely. He covers a lot of territory, often in low-light levels and with the Vietnam War playing on background TV sets, soaking up the sordid atmosphere, including naked, surgically masked women cutting the dope -- so no one will steal anything -- and celebrities like Joe Lewis cheerfully slumming with the gangsters. The scruffiness of Richie's world makes a brilliant contrast to Frank's penthouse. Yet both worlds teem with moral ambiguity.

If there are no false steps here, there are few highlights either. Such films as "The Godfather" and "Serpico" contain iconic scenes and sequences. "American Gangster" contributes little. It's workmanlike and engrossing, but what sticks in the mind are Frank and Richie, not what anybody does.

The film concocts a final sequence in which the two finally meet and do a deal, the deal that apparently sprung Frank from prison to enjoy his old age: Frank rats out the SIU cops who shook him down, resulting in most of the unit going to prison. Richie ends up leaving the force to become a lawyer and eventually represents Frank. So "American Gangster" finally shows its true colors: It's really a buddy movie.

[Mister Tee]

ScreenDaily

American Gangster
Mike Goodridge in Los Angeles
22 Oct 2007 13:51

Dir: Ridley Scott. US. 2007. 158 mins
A classy gangster epic which echoes the best crime sagas of the last 35 years from The Godfather saga to New Jack City, American Gangster marks a welcome return to form for hard-working director Ridley Scott after three disappointing films. Long but never boring, it's an expertly crafted slice of mainstream entertainment telling two concurrent stories, one about the rise of drug kingpin played by Denzel Washington, one about the police investigation to bring him down led by a grizzled cop played by Russell Crowe.

Adult audiences will be enthralled by the drama, not least because it is based on the true story of Harlem drug lord Frank Lucas in the 1970s and his eventual arrest by dogged cop Richie Roberts. Blessed by the rich detail and spot-on casting for which Scott is famous, the film is destined to be a big hit at the box office in North America but also in international territories where the star names and perennial fascination with New York City crime stories will bring in the crowds.

Awards play is also possible for the film which is one of the few large-scale major Hollywood productions – the film boasts 130 speaking parts – on offer this season. Rather like Scott's Gladiator and Scorsese's The Departed last year, its sheer entertainment value and the top-level craft on show might steer Academy voters to favour it. The performances, particularly another powerful turn by Washington, are also noteworthy.

There are echoes here of Michael Mann's Heat (!995), which also told parallel stories of criminal and cop on his trail, although this story is true and all the more colorful for being so.

The film begins with the death of popular Harlem crime boss Bumpy Johnson of a heart attack in 1968; his trusty driver and lieutenant Frank Lucas (Washington) takes over his turf and, faced with competition from other thugs who step into the breach, comes up with a brilliant idea to seize power. He flies to Bangkok where his cousin is stationed during the Vietnam War and the two of them establish their own source of pure heroin in southeast Asia. The drugs are transported to the US in US military planes and distributed around Harlem at a cost-effective price in packets marked "Blue Magic".

Enter Richie Roberts (Crowe), a New Jersey cop unpopular for his rigidly honest ways in a police force rife with corruption. When his partner dies of a drug overdose and nobody else will work with him, Roberts is assigned to assemble his own team and focus on the exploding drug problems in the city.

Frank's import business takes off and he assumes power in Harlem as Blue Magic sweeps through the streets. He buys a mansion for his North Carolina-based mother (Dee) and brings his brothers (led by his brother Huey played by Ejiofor) to Manhattan to run the business with him. His mantra is discretion at all costs, unlike other flashy gangsters on the street like Nicky Barnes (Gooding). He meets a beautiful former beauty queen from Puerto Rico called Eva (Nadal) and the two marry. He goes to church every Sunday. In all but profession, he is an upstanding citizen.

Roberts on the other hand is a mess; his marriage (to Gugino) is falling apart and she is moving to Vegas with their son; he sleeps around, and lives and breathes his job. Just as he is reaching a dead-end in search for the mysterious supplier of Blue Magic, Lucas inadvertently shows himself up at the Muhammad Ali/Joe Frazier boxing match of 1971. Roberts starts to look into Lucas and begins to suspect that he has found the kingpin.

Things come to a head when the Vietnam war ceasefire is called in 1974 and Lucas's guaranteed supply is threatened. He does one more run to Thailand, this time smuggling the drugs back in the coffins of army veterans killed in action. Roberts infiltrates the Lucas inner circle and gets the information about when, where and how the shipment will arrive in the US. But he still cannot pin the crimes on Lucas until he has located the centre where Lucas' team chops and bags the goods.

Washington is restrained and self-possessed as Lucas, only occasionally fuelled by murderous rage and, since he's never a drug-user, never resorting to Tony Montana-style histrionics. Crowe is the perfect foil for the other half of the film, scrappy and damaged, but with the same determination of his unknown nemesis Lucas. Their meeting at the end of the film is predictably satisfying, especially since Roberts persuades Lucas to identify a plethora of corrupt cops. 75% of the force working in narcotics at the time were indicted as a result.

The story, as superbly scripted by Steve Zaillian, is rife with predictably murky morals, especially since the police force of the time is so immoral. If Lucas comes across as supercool and sometimes heroic, that is because many of the cops here – personified by Josh Brolin as corrupt detective Trupo – were on the take or violently racist.

Much of the pleasure of the film comes from Scott's brisk and businesslike pacing and seemingly effortless confidence with his camera which makes the 158 minute-running time fly by; and within that fast-paced drama there are a multitude of tasty supporting parts (Ruby Dee as Frank's apparently naïve mother, Idris Elba running the team of naked girls who chop and bag the dope) montages and setpieces.

American Gangster may not possess the mythology of The Godfather or the technical audacity of Goodfellas, but it has substance aplenty, a sense of humour and the power to entertain which mark it out as one of the year's most rewarding pictures.

[Precious Doll]

From Variety

American Gangster
By TODD MCCARTHY

A Universal release of an Imagine presentation of a Scott Free production. Produced by Brian Grazer, Ridley Scott. Executive producers, Nicholas Pileggi, Steven Zaillian, Branko Lustig, Jim Whitaker, Michael Costigan. Co-producers, Jonathan Filley, Sarah Bowen. Directed by Ridley Scott. Screenplay, Steven Zaillian, based on the article "The Return of Superfly" by Mark Jacobson.

Frank Lucas - Denzel Washington
Richie Roberts - Russell Crowe
Huey Lucas - Chiwetel Ejiofor
Nicky Barnes - Cuba Gooding Jr.
Det. Trupo - Josh Brolin
Lou Toback - Ted Levine
Dominic Cattano - Armand Assante
Ellsworth "Bumpy"
Johnson - Clarence Williams III
Javier J. Rivera - John Ortiz
Freddie Spearman - John Hawkes
Moses Jones - RZA
Eva - Lymari Nadal
Alfonse Abruzzo - Yul Vazquez
Mama Lucas - Ruby Dee
Tango - Idris Elba
Laurie Roberts - Carla Gugino
Charlie Williams - Joe Morton
Turner Lucas - Common
Rossi - Jon Polito
Campizi - Kevin Corrigan
Nate - Rodger Guenveur Smith
Jimmy Zee - Malcolm Goodwin
Chinese General - Ric Young
U.S. Attorney - Roger Bart
Stevie Lucas - Tip Harris
Richie's Attorney - Kadee Strickland
Doc - Ruben Santiago-Hudson
Detective in Morgue - Norman Reedus

"American Gangster" wants to be a great epic crime saga so badly you can feel it. The true story at its core -- of the rise, fall and redemption of a '70s-era Harlem drug lord -- is so terrific, it's amazing it wasn't put onscreen long ago, and it would be difficult today to find two better actors to pit against one another, as hoodlum and cop, respectively, than Denzel Washington and Russell Crowe. With so many elements going for it, this big, fat Universal release is absorbing, exciting at times and undeniably entertaining, and is poised to be a major commercial hit. But great it's not.
Memories of numerous classics hang over this film like banners commemorating past championship teams -- "The Godfather," "Serpico," "Prince of the City," "Scarface" and "Goodfellas," among other modern-era crime-pic landmarks. Like most of those, this is a quintessential New York story, one you feel could have been the basis for a Sidney Lumet masterpiece. But while "American Gangster" is made with consummate professionalism on every level, it just doesn't quite feel like the real deal; it delivers, but doesn't soar.

Based on a New York magazine article by Mark Jacobson, the story arc is so sensational it warrants outsized treatment. Frank Lucas rose from Harlem crime-world minion to drug kingpin by bringing in uncut heroin straight from Southeast Asia during the height of the Vietnam War. At least the way the script tells it, his steps were dogged by notably incorruptible working-class federal investigator Richie Roberts (a man not once mentioned in Jacobson's piece), and the upshot was the hammer coming down on the NYPD's drug enforcement cops, three-fourths of whom were on the take.

Steven Zaillian's script plausibly lays the story out on parallel tracks, following the two men until they finally meet very late in the game. It's an intelligent, craftsmanlike job that coherently lays out a complicated, multifaceted tale, but also one that serves up genuine intensity and overblown aspects in virtually equal measure, with director Ridley Scott following suit.

Contrast between the two protags is neatly set up. Frank (Denzel Washington), driver and collector for legendary Harlem hood Bumpy Johnson (Clarence Williams III, classy), steps into the void left by his mentor's death in 1968 by traveling to the jungles of Thailand and, with crucial help from an Army relative, transporting 100 kilos of pure heroin back to the U.S. via military planes. Eliminating any middleman, Frank floods the streets with top-quality stuff, undercuts the competition's prices and reaps huge profits.

In an era of pimp-style flash and braggadacio, Frank cuts an intriguingly low-key profile; he dresses conservatively, eats breakfast alone early every morning in a local diner and seems not to indulge in his own merchandise. But when crossed, he doesn't hesitate to administer punishment personally by shooting the transgressor himself in broad daylight.

On the other hand, Richie (Russell Crowe) is a sweaty, scraping-it-together Joisy kid going through an unpleasant divorce and studying for a law degree when he's not chasing down drug dealers. He becomes the notorious exception to the rule in his profession when he busts a couple guys with a million bucks in the trunk and insists on turning it in.

With little visible opposition, Frank does more than his share to spread drugs and crime throughout New York. Pic barrels like an uptown express through this moral issue, neither condemning the self-made entrepreneur nor excessively glamorizing him, blaxploitation-style (the real Frank Lucas was, by all accounts, considerably flashier than Washington's version allows).

As Frank expands his empire, he brings his five younger brothers up from North Carolina and proudly installs his dirt-poor mother (Ruby Dee) in a white mansion on a hill. Frank meets and marries Miss Puerto Rico 1970 (Lymari Nadal); puts would-be rivals at a polite distance (Armand Assante's Italian mobster, who wants part of Frank's action) or in their place (Cuba Gooding Jr.'s Nicky Barnes, Frank's real-life Harlem competitor); and makes a return trip to Thailand to engineer the most ambitious import scheme of his career (although not nearly as breathtaking as the real man's alleged career-capper).

To make an end run around the NYPD, the feds recruit Richie to lead their own drug probe, a move that bumps Mr. Clean up against top cop Det. Trupo (Josh Brolin) in some of the film's most jolting interludes. Trupo's brazen sense of entitlement to a cut of everyone's drug profits is jaw-droppingly audacious, and it's played to the hilt of threatening menace by Brolin, who steals scenes from even Washington and Crowe. With this and his splendid turn in "No Country for Old Men," Brolin has graduated to the bigs this year.

But it's when Richie, in a spectacular raid on Frank's factory, nails his prey, and Washington and Crowe finally end up across a desk from one another in a small room, that "American Gangster" achieves maximum voltage. What goes down during their exchanges proves all the more engrossing thanks to the shrewd underplaying of these two terrific actors, both of whom rise to the occasion when pitted opposite the best.

Still, there's an irony in that, good as he is, Crowe is essentially miscast as the tenacious working-class Jewish kid who brings Frank down. Having an actor of Crowe's stature play Frank's adversary helps balance the film, but this is one of the few roles he's played for which he brings nothing special to the table, and which does not allow his considerable charisma to flourish.

Similarly miscast is director Scott, whose greatest strengths lie in bringing to life grandly conceived portraits of distant worlds past and future, rather than in contemporary realism. Maximizing a gritty big-city story requires a credibility composed of thousands of small details, and this is one area where a citizen-of-the-world director like Scott can't excel. It's akin to asking Lumet or Scorsese to make a definitive film about crime in '70s Newcastle -- they could do a respectable, even exciting job of it, but it probably wouldn't ring deeply true.

Still, Washington's steely grip on his impersonation of Frank Lucas holds the film together. Even if he doesn't entirely give the impression of a street hustler who never attended school in his life, Washington presents a man of striking, thoroughly credible contradictions: cool businessman/explosive killer, loner/family man, engaging guy/scourge of society.

Awash in blues, functional lensing is something of a disappointment coming from the usually distinctive Harris Savides. Though it achieves a decent momentum, pic feels its length.

Camera (Technicolor), Harris Savides; editor, Pietro Scalia; music, Marc Streitenfeld; music supervisor, Kathy Nelson; production designer, Arthur Max; art director, Nicholas Lundy; set decorators, Beth A. Rubino, Leslie Rollins; costume designer, Janty Yates; sound (DTS/SDDS/Dolby Digital), William Sarokin; supervising sound editor, Per Hallberg; re-recording mixers, Michael Minkler, Bob Beemer; assistant director, Darin Rivetti; second unit director, Alexander Witt; casting, Avy Kaufman. Reviewed at Arclight Cinemas, Los Angeles, Sept. 18, 2007. MPAA Rating: R. Running time: 157 MIN.

[Reza]

Ridley Scott's American Gangster (Universal, 11.2) is, of course, naturally... hello?...an absolute Best Picture contender because it's a straight, robust, high-velocity crime saga in the grand New York movie tradition of '70s and '80s Sidney Lumet.

Damien must already be standing in line waiting to get into a cinema to watch this!

[Sabin]

Even worse. David Poland. But still...

There are two fronts in my mind regarding Ridley Scott’s new film, American Gangster. On one side, there is the side that is blown away by the work of a truly skilled filmmaker, some excellent actors – many of whom are wasted in tiny roles - a great story, and a 70s spirit of filmmaking that is a pleasure to see on the big screen in 2007.

On the other side, there is this movie about the Scarface/Godfather of Harlem in the 70s drug trade who kept a remarkable emotional distance from the dark side of his actions that would end up making him dangerous in ways that no one could imagine. And then there is this white guy who ended up catching him, kind of.

The problem is not that I don’t like or admire American Gangster. The problem for me is that one of the very best gangster epics of all time is sitting there, unfolding before our eyes… and suddenly we are stuck in the middle of Russell Crowe’s character’s custody fight. And really, what the hell does that have to do with this American Gangster? Not a whole hell of a lot.

Again, it’s not that the Russell Crowe sections aren’t well made or well acted. I would argue that Crowe is better here than he is in 3:10 To Yuma. But you can feel this massive imbalance in the storytelling every time we shift to him… the guy whose story really isn’t relevant to the evolution of the story. And when we finally do find a turn that makes his presence more relevant, that section of the story is fast-forwarded through.

Perhaps in the earlier incarnation, with Antoine Fuqua directing and Benicio del Toro in the role of the cop chasing the Godfather, it felt more balanced. For one thing, as a person of color, the parallels with Benicio might have felt more interesting and complex. Perhaps more importantly, there would be much less of a compulsion to shift over to the cop’s story for significant portions of the film.

It would be unfair to tar the whole film with the process of getting the picture financed by Universal. But from the outside looking in, the film looks like a clear case of “we can’t make an $80 million-plus film with just Denzel Washington driving box office when with the exception of Déjà Vu, none of his films without a major white co-star have grossed over $137 million worldwide.” The best case scenario within those boundaries is about $160 million in net revenue all in, with an $80 million budget and worldwide publicity of at least $70 million, it’s not a great bet. But add Russell Crowe and… who knows?

And here is why all that business chatter means something to me…

Watching American Gangster, I feel like it should have been one of the great movies of the last decade. Ridley Scott is in top form. Denzel is mesmerizing. The supporting characters are interesting and colorful, primarily Frank Lucas’ family. That is where this becomes operatic, elegant, powerful, tragic.

But it seems like every time the Frank Lewis story should be tense and uncomfortable and putting you right on the edge of your seat, we are cutting away to more adventures with good guy cop Richie Roberts, played by Crowe. And again, it’s not like the material with Richie isn’t smart and compelling and good filmmaking. It’s just not an important part of the epic opera that the Frank Lewis story offers.

It’s Harris Savides' first time out with Ridley Scott and the relationship’s a gold mine for both of them. It’s Savides' second photographic masterwork this year, after making the precision of David Fincher’s Zodiac zing. (If there is an Oscar nomination to come from that film, it should be for Savides.) And he does pretty damned well by Noah Baumbach as well, with Margot At The Wedding. It’s one of the great years for any cinematographer in movie history.

Arthur Max, the production designer, who has worked exclusively for Ridley Scott and David Fincher, does great work here, as does Art Director Nicholas Lundy and Set Decorators Sonja Klaus, Leslie E. Rollins, Beth A. Rubino. The 70s are flawless, but not calling attention to the style, as Zodiac did. Also doing great work is Costume Designer Janty Yates.

People inhabit a movie universe and Scott got some of the best actors around to play them in support. From frame one, we get Clarence Williams III as Bumpy Johnson… cool, smooth, and sweating dangerous power. Ruby Dee is a powerhouse as Frank’s mother. Armand Assante fronts the mafia with chaps and elbow patches in an unusually understated performance. And one of my favorites, John Ortiz, sports some seriously funky hair and sideburns, but still makes you sweat every hyperactive moment with him.

You also get the comeback player of the year, Josh Brolin. Back in 1996, Brolin was loaded with promise in Flirting With Disaster… and then he got cast in a lot of mediocrity and its hard to tell whether a guy can act in a bunch of iffy movies. Then, all of a sudden, he was amongst an acting A-Team in The Dead Girl last year, followed by this and No Country For Old Men… and a star is born. Hell, he was even fun in Planet Terror!

And you get Cuba Gooding, Jr in a smaller than expected role as Nicky Barnes, a rival to Frank Lucas back in the day. Interestingly, veteran documentarian Marc Levin has made an excellent documentary on Barnes – Mr. Untouchable - that is also due out at the end of this month from Magnolia. And a lot of what Frank Lucas does in American Gangster, Nikki Barnes takes and is given credit for in the doc. Moreover, when you start looking at the competing stories - Lucas profiled by New York Magazine and Barnes, a star for The New York Times – you can get a bit of whiplash trying to figure out which one did what. For instance, in Mr. Untouchable, Barnes mentions Frank Lucas as a country bumpkin who spoke crudely and always sounded like a farmhand. To the contrary, in American Gangster, Frank Lucas is consummately low-key and smooth and makes the mistake of wearing a fur once. Both men are given credit for giving out turkeys at Thanksgiving, as Bumpy Johnson had before them.

After seeing both films, if you see one, you should definitely see the other. For myself, I expect to do a lot more research on the stories when I find some time. Having two such outsized personalities on the same turf, one buying from the mob and the other selling to the mob, is fascinating. And neither film really deals in any depth with the relationship to the opposite number.

But I digress…

American Gangster is a classic tale of the American dream on drugs. Like Scarface, Frank Lucas comes from nowhere, trains with the top man in the (poppy) field, and finds a way to do him one better. What is so different about this story is that it’s not a story about a small man who is endlessly trying to make himself bigger. Frank Lucas is a strong, thoughtful man. His lives by his sense of his own honor. He lovingly brings his family into his circle, never thinking of the danger that is always just around the corner. It’s that kind of tale, writ large on the landscape of America’s drug culture.

It’s just not the undeniable classic I felt throughout was trying to emerge. And in some ways, that is more frustrating than a bad movie. And in some ways, it is not.

[Sabin]

Jeffrey Wells raves. Sure there's the fact that he's Jeffrey Wells, but it's still something.

Ridley Scott's American Gangster (Universal, 11.2) is, of course, naturally... hello?...an absolute Best Picture contender because it's a straight, robust, high-velocity crime saga in the grand New York movie tradition of '70s and '80s Sidney Lumet. Which, in case you haven't been paying attention, is a very cool and vogue-ish thing to be churning out right now, and not for ephemeral reasons.

This is not a first-rate cops-and-dealers drama by the director of Alien, Blade Runner, Gladiator and Black Hawk Down as much as a wonderfully focused and flavorful time-machine ride back to the gritty-stinky Abe Beame-Ed Koch world of Serpico, Prince of the City and The French Connection.

I'm not speaking of some sophisticated film-maven exercise but a dead-on, true-blue revisiting -- a submission by a great director to an ethos and an aesthetic that feels absolutely real and true to itself, which is to say true to what happened and particularly the way life caused two dogged, determined locomotives -- legendary Harlem smack dealer Frank Lucas (Denzel Washington) and his opposite number, the doggedly honest Det. Richie Roberts (Russell Crowe) -- to crash into each other's fate.

The result isn't the craziest or most thrilling New York crime film you've ever seen, but one with a more authentic and character-rich sense of itself and its milieu than anything released in a very long time. It's a film with absolute balls-to-the-wall integrity that can't miss with audiences, and it tells a plain, strong story with a beginning, a middle and an end. It ought to score a bulls-eye with critics and the Academy and if it doesn't there's something wrong, and I don't mean with the film.

On top of which it's the best film of this type -- complex, interesting, sympathetic good guy vs. complex, interesting half-sympathetic bad guy -- since Heat.

Does this saga of the rise and fall of Lucas make you tear up and cry at some point? Does it unleash an emotional meltdown in your chest somewhere during the middle of the third act? No, and shame on anyone for asking. Did The French Connection or The Departed moisten tear ducts? American Gangster is what it is, and deserves a salute for this. It doesn't pander or amplify or push buttons or pull any cheap tricks.

I was a wee bit disappointed when last Tuesday night's screening came to an end. It had begun around 7 pm, and the closing credits were rolling north around 9:40 pm. What...only 160 minutes? I'd been given all the nutrition any moviegoer could possibly ask for, but I was Oliver Twist. I wanted more.

This is one of those movies that is so good and cocksure in its New York textures and tough hammer-like attitude, that you're saying to yourself early on, "I don't want this to end." I wanted the indulgent director's cut right then and there. I wanted Ridley to swing for the bleachers and make it three hours. Hell, I could have gone for three and a half. I wanted to pig out.

I mean, my God...even Cuba Gooding comes off pretty well in a co-starring role, and he's one of those guys with an Irish banshee going "whooooo" behind his back.

Based on a New York magazine article by Mark Jacobson ("The Return of Superfly") and working from a screenplay by Steve Zallian, Gangster follows the paths of Lucas and Roberts -- step by step, chapter by chapter -- and how they lead to a third-act showdown.

Lucas's heroin-dealing heyday was from '69 or so to 1976. He claimed in the Jacobson article to have grossed $1 million a day at one point. A lawman once described his operation as "one of the most outrageous international dope- smuggling gangs ever." Lucas's claim to fame is that he smuggled in his Vietnamese kilos (98% pure heroin) in the coffins of dead U.S. soldiers.

Lucas, we learn right off the bat, is a somewhat conservative guy. We first meet him as a driver/assistant for Ellsworth "Bumpy" Johnson (a cameo role handled by Clarence Williams III), who's instilled in Lucas a respect for the old way of doing things. We also see from the get-go that he's perfectly capable of pouring gasoline over some guy, lighting him up and then filling him with hot lead. But he also gets up at 5 ayem, eats breakfast in the same luncheonette every day, and takes his mother to church on Sundays.

He's a villain, sure, but he's fairly likable (he's Denzel, after all) and semi-respec- table. He's not totally crazy, and he dresses conservatively and runs his business (i.e., providing a product) like any conservative businessman would. Selling heroin is like spreading a kind of death, but I'm of the libertarian view that people have the right to dope their souls to hell if they're so inclined. I also think guys like Donald Rumsfeld and Dick Cheney are just as evil as guys like Lucas, and perhaps even more so.

The first significant thing we see Roberts, a Manhattan detective, do is come upon a suitcase stuffed with a million untraceable bucks and promptly turn every last bill into his station chief. (Anyone who says they wouldn't at least think about skimming a few grand is either stupid or lying.) Obviously he's a very different bird than Frank, and yet the film gradually persuades us that they're not so far apart.

Both adhere to a strict ethical code that sets them apart from comme ci comme ca colleagues, both see their friendships and family lives crack apart under the strain of their work and their single-minded stubbornness, and both run their own renegade teams to get a risky job done.

Deep down, American Gangster is really a procedural film about the ups and down of running a tough business. I challenge anyone who's run his or her own business to watch it and say they don't feel at least a little respect and sympathy for Frank, who is first and foremost a vulture and a scumbag, yes, but is also just trying to run a tight ship. It's always the mark of a good film to persuade you to feel two ways about the same lead character.

Frank and Richie, in the final analysis, are guys who believe in discipline, hard work, integrity, family, adhering to a code. They both pay for being such hard- cases, but in real life Roberts wound up becoming a full-time attorney and wound up defending Lucas in some matter. Life is funny that way, and it sure as shit isn't black and white.