Smooth Criminal

Rating: 7/10 (6 January 2008)

Whadaya know - Crime DOES pay! Or so it seems at the conclusion of *American Gangster*, when a career gangster and a struggling cop are laffing it up in a montage, collaborating to bring down the gangster's empire. I'll get to that subtle mismanaged message in a moment.
Denzel Washington plies his smoothie-smooth smoothness as Original Gangster, Frank Lucas, simultaneously elevating the movie and ruining it. You see, the real Frank Lucas in 1968 Harlem was a devil of the streets, an iron-balled, malevolent drug boss, who ran the ghettos and 'burbs like a chinchilla-coated, pimp-fisted Hitler. Casting Denzel was less about conveying the horrifying aspect of a sociopath crime lord than it was about presenting a man-toy whom women wanted to DO as much as men wanted to BE; his velvety charm, less about repulsing people than coercing them through box office turnstiles.
Russell Crowe is Lucas' nemesis, the dogged, disheveled detective, Richie Roberts, as unsophisticated and unorganized as Lucas is classy and controlled. Roberts alienated his police pals by turning in a million dollars drug cash he found on the streets, instead of swanking it amongst himself and friends. Everyone is painted as morally swingshift, only looking out for themselves; even Roberts, though he is determined to smoke out Lucas, cannot get his own house in order, as he studies for bar exams while his Movie-Convention Nagging Ex-Wife (Carla Gugino) never has a decent thing to say about his child visitations or his three-day-growth existence.
Then there's Josh Brolin, struttin' leather-coated and coolly cruel through Harlem's underbelly like a kingpin himself, until it is revealed he is a dirty cop playing both sides of the street.
Lucas inherits legendary Bumpy Johnson's street empire when Bumpy dies in his arms. Rather than allow the neighborhood smack to wind its way through innumerable middle men, Lucas goes straight to their Bangkok source and sets up a direct line of purchase, smuggling the heroin into the U.S. in the caskets of dead G.I.'s returning from Viet Nam. They called it the "Cadaver Connection." His sizzling-pure product (called Blue Magic) becomes renowned for being twice as good for half the price. Even Richie Roberts' partner succumbs to the taste. While Roberts and his ragtag team of do-gooders try to sniff out who is flooding the streets with H so good that veteran junkies are dying from its potency, Lucas is busy buying a mansion for his mama and setting up his many brothers in positions of power on the streets, a familial tactic employed by old school Italians.
This movie lacks for iconic moments: *American Gangster* might be taking its cues from *The Godfather*, and may be aiming for characterization rather than shoot-em-up, but there are few magic moments that burn themselves into your brain.
Ridley Scott directs excellently, but his writer (Steven Zaillian, from an article by Mark Jacobson) gives him no moments like Brando's opening monologue, or Michael proclaiming, "It's just business, Sonny"; or Luca Brasi's tongue-tied meeting with the Godfather et al. When Lucas ironically proclaims "This is America!" it is as far removed from Amerigo Bonasera's sincere proclamation of "I love America" as Denzel is from Brando.
Even when Denzel is quoting some of Lucas' own priceless thuggery, he is just Too Sexy-Smooth to pull off a chilling take. We are never "horrified" by this monster of a man  the first scene features him expressionlessly shooting a man dead who is already on fire. But it's Denzel. Lucas set up one of his initiation moments himself and the reality is disturbing: giving one of the baddest neighborhood thugs $5000 in dope and then harassing him for payment publicly, with the unswerving intent to shoot the guy as a lesson for the neighborhood The paradoxical message in *American Gangster*: obviously, the MPAA forces scriptwriters to bring gangsters to justice  and ultimately, Lucas is caught - but the overarching message this movie sends is that life's gonna suck anyway at some point (just look at Roberts' sorry life, even being on the "right" side of the law), so while you've got a grip on Life  squeeze! For all it's worth. You may stay on top, but if it all falls through, you would have still lived a better life than the average bear. For didn't Lucas live miles above Roberts throughout his life? Money and cars and mansions and a Puerto Rican model for a wife. At the end, the Robin Hood of Harlem was reportedly worth more than $150 million. And then when he *did* get caught, he sang like a canary, gave up his backstreet boys and was sentenced to 70 years, out in five. I think that five years of confinement is worth 20 years of mansion living. How 'bout you? Denzel and Crowe play the final laughing scenes like a coupla buddies over beer and pizza. Why not? Lucas cut a deal finer than his Blue Magic. In real life, Roberts even became Lucas' defense attorney in the 1990s.
Crime = glamour. Crime = hotness. Crime = smoothness.
Now where'd I put my chinchilla fur coat?