Mitchell Akselrad: 4.5 of 5 stars

There's power embedded in a title like "American Gangster." It's a power supported by two charismatic leads and a company of talented performers. It's a power evoked by a screenplay efficient in its construction. It's a power inherent to director Ridley Scott's name.

Power is an obvious theme in "American Gangster," along with family, values and corporate organization. These are the virtues on which America was founded, and Steven Zaillian's script, based on the New York Magazine article "The Return of Superfly" by Mark Jacobson, makes sure to sew them into the fabric of every scene. The strength of the screenplay is at the heart of the movie's success. Its patience and complexity are also rare: With a 157-minute runtime and slow but articulate climb toward the climax, this is not the norm.

Most important, you won't think to look at your watch. The film stars two of Hollywood's most gifted actors - your eyes never leave the screen because you don't want to miss a single twitch of the mouth or glean of the eye. Every moment is captivating. It's Russell Crowe and Denzel Washington, but it's also Chiwetel Ejiofor ("Inside Man"), Josh Brolin ("Planet Terror" and "Goonies" fame), John Hawkes ("Deadwood") and Yul Vazquez ("Bad Boys II"), to name just a few.

It might be inevitable, and even a little trite, to mention "The Godfather" here. Not because both the greatest American movie and "American Gangster" are about gangsters. And not because they both cover long stretches of time as main characters rise and fall. "Gangster" pays homage in theme rather than technical pastiche. Who's more right? A man who deals in illegal products and death but honors a code of conduct, or a man who respects the law by all means but cannot be loyal to those in his own world? "Gangster" isn't really about drug dealers and cops. It's about how pride and ethical conviction protect and destroy the family.

One brilliant scene in "Gangster" finds protagonist Frank Lucas (Denzel) and his nephew Stevie (rapper T.I.) relaxing on a Thanksgiving afternoon. Stevie is a good enough baseball player to earn a spot on the Yankees, but he tells his uncle, "I don't wanna play baseball no more . I wanna be you." Frank doesn't need to say a word. The disappointment he feels about his nephew's rejection of a legitimate future is equal to the blame he puts on himself for inspiring such a sordid career path.

There are conversations about "never forgetting where we came from." There are scenes where Crowe's character, Richie Roberts, comes to terms with the loss of custody of his son. But you get gunplay for your money, too. The badass action scenes with automatics and lethal sledgehammers that will sell the movie are just as satisfying. So is the inevitable confrontation between the two big men themselves. When Frank and Richie finally meet, you feel it in your gut.

Pay attention to the film subtler successes, namely the inclusion of news coverage about Vietnam, and its less subtle visual ones, like costume designer Janty Yates's dedication to 1970s Harlem fashion: big hats, flashy sunglasses and fur coats.

The final redemption for certain characters and minor details that seem far-fetched might prevent the movie from entering the realm of gangster-film touchstones of the past. Yet there is brilliance in the contrast between the first and final scenes of Lucas, which serve as ingenious bookends for the film. Enter Ridley Scott, whose vision and experience is responsible for this tight, artful story. Scott has supplied American culture with another great tale.

The performances are great, Harris Savides's cinematography reflects the look of the film's period and the tone, and the locations are as descriptive as the dialogue. But a film deserving of such widespread marketing, with a bill of players and crew that put the butts in the seats, calls for more than just a simple checklist. "American Gangster" calls into question our principles. Like an epic period piece should, it presents much that can be pared down to a simple theme: the comparison of two people in opposite situations dealing with the same decisions. The two words of the tile itself invoke a relationship between the ideal and the gritty reality - one does not exist without the other.