The doomed tale of Harlem drug kingpin Frank Lucas is brought to life in the new film by legendary director Ridley Scott.

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Written by Nathan Evans

Crime doesn't pay...sometimes.

The troubled tale of heroin kingpin Frank Lucas finally gets the Hollywood treatment with the release of American Gangster, the new film from legendary director Ridley Scott (Blade Runner, Gladiator) and starring Oscar Winners Denzel Washington and Russell Crowe in the leads. It would be a mistake to assume that Gangster sits comfortably with similar cinematic fair, perhaps closer aligned with Ted Demme's Blow than either Godfather film (forgetting the third), or even the venerated Scarface, which is clearly the audience that Ridley's Scott longs to ingratiate itself with. It's far more interested in presenting its own take on the double-edged sword of law enforcement, a story told much more effectively elsewhere (Michael Mann's Heat comes to mind), but here finds itself reprocessed and ready for consumption by audiences aching for a new legend. The fairy tale world of heroin trafficking is never glamorized here as other drug films have done, fully revealing the nasty effects of substance abuse has on a community and to the very core of its community. Its here where the film gains its greatest potential and succeeds mightily, only to dip dangerously close into the world of cinema's worst offense - routine.

Ridley Scott is one of our most treasured directors, having crafted more than his share of loved and respected works that would stack up favorably against most others. Here he rebounds admirably back from his lackluster A Good Year (also starring Crowe) and returns to the more familiar territory of violence and aggression. That's not to say that Gangster is a rousing action-fest shoot 'em up, because it certainly isn't and those expecting such may look elsewhere. Here we have a nuanced look at the rise of an industrious drug runner and the detective chasing him. How much of the final product is indeed based on fact and how much is fiction is for historians, as the only thing Scott's film seems occupied with is creating enough iconography to distinguish itself from the pack. The end result is an extremely entertaining, if slightly familiar new take on an old story that I enjoyed quite a bit, and no doubt most would agree.

If nothing else, we finally have the real teaming of stars Denzel Washington and Russell Crowe to help erase the celluloid stink that their first on-screen partnership, the science-fiction mistake Virtuosity, from the minds of all who've seen it. Both Oscar winners are significantly higher statured than they were way back when, and while they may not share much screen time together, but each brings much-needed weight and gravity to their respective roles of Frank Lucas and Detective Richie Roberts. But its Washington who gets (and deserves) top billing here as kingpin Lucas, giving the cool-as-ice actor a chance to show off a monstrous side we rarely see. Its taking chances and playing against type that's made him one of the most compellingly watchable actor/stars of our time, and its a testament to our respect for him as a role model that seeing him savagely blow away rivals still elicits appropriate shocks.

Scott also reteams with his muse for the third time, giving Crowe a chance to also play against type, taking second fiddle as the boy-scout detective in charge of taking down organized crime, only to find that decidedly African-American Lucas not part of the traditionally Italian-dominated crime syndicate. This is actually Crowe's second-best performance of the year, as his upstanding (but womanizing) Roberts can't possibly compete with his career-resurrecting turn as a sociopath gangster in the excellent 3:10 to Yuma. Still, its still great fun to see the dominating actor so vulnerable, and even with his reduced role still commands the screen whenever he's on. When the two finally cross paths in the film's closing moments, its pretty obvious why they've become two of the most respected and sought-after leading men working today, and here's hoping they'll meet again in a film that utilizes their potential chemistry a bit better.

For the most part, the rest of the cast is populated with familiar faces and voices we've all seen before, mostly culled from television crime and detective dramas and the music industry. The Wu Tang Clans's RZA joins R&B star Common in smaller roles, and even Cuba Gooding, Jr. redeems himself as doomed heroin kingpin Nicky Barnes in a small bit. Josh Brolin continues his winning streak as de facto corrupt detective Trupo, but never has the opportunity to stand out on his own and can't possibly distinguish himself in such an ensemble cast. Oh, its worth noting that industry vet and real-life civil rights activist Ruby Dee, playing mother Lucas and spiritual center, was exceptionally good in a role that's often passed on by.

Another article could be written about the film's soundtrack alone, which simultaneously manages to evoke proper 1970s sensibilities while understanding the appropriate tone needed to bring this seedy world to life. Composer Marc Streitenfeld also accomplishes the near impossible by creating what might just be the most haunting and successful cinematic gangster theme since The Godfather's operatic masterpiece. In the mix are several staple period songs, most you've probably heard countless times elsewhere and much like the film itself seem chosen less for nostalgia and more to help place the film in familiar territory. I'll never tire of hearing "Across 110th Street", but here it just seems thrown in and less intentional.

One welcome addition was the parallels drawn between the rise (and fall) of Frank Lucas played against the struggles of the American military in Vietnam. Although never expressed outright, various televised imagery detailing poignant moments in the futile efforts to restore civility and transposed against the self-defeating purpose of crafting Lucas as a permanent replacement in the Harlem underground. These worlds collide as the very mechanisms used to disrupt the illegal trade are used to continue its very existence, completing the circle of necessity between cop and robber itself.

American Gangster very well may find itself a new classic in the pantheon of stylized Mafioso epics, as it succeeds terribly well in helping position Frank Lucas to iconic status in the eyes of generations of wide-eyed fans looking to finally retired well-worn copies of Scarface and have a new anti-hero to look up to. It's hardly surprising to see rapper Jay-Z provides not only the 1970s-ready single "Heart of the City (Ain't No Love)" for the original soundtrack (sung by crooner Anthony Hamilton), but also released an entirely separate album he claims was inspired by the film. A significant portion of the hip-hop community has claimed the much-mentioned Tony Montana character and Scarface itself as its own, having affected and imbued itself within the very framework of the theatrical gangsta lifestyle itself. Scott's film may be too stylized, less archetypical to replace DePalma's chainsaw-wielding opus, but its heart (and pocketbook) is certainly in the right place.