“The loudest one in the room is the weakest.”

That’s what drug kingpin Frank Lucas tells his younger brother after he spots his sibling wearing a garish suit after a night out on the town. “American Gangster,” a spot-on chronicle of Lucas’ rise and eventual fall in the Harlem drug trade of the 1970s, seems to follow that advice to the letter.

Featuring rock-solid performances by Denzel Washington as Frank Lucas and Russell Crowe as the prosecutor who takes Lucas down, “Gangster” is more contemplative than combustible. This is both good and bad—good, since “Gangster” avoids the operatic excess found in so many sprawling crime movies, but bad because the slow burn of the film’s first two hours never ignites like it should.

“Gangster” is a mostly accurate re-telling of the life of Frank Lucas, whose heroin empire in 1970s Harlem made him more powerful than the Mafia. Starting out as a driver for legendary Harlem gangster Bumpy Johnson (played here by Clarence Williams III), Lucas attempts to establish his own empire after Johnson dies. Ambitious, disciplined and ruthless, Lucas builds his own drug business by buying heroin directly from producers in Southeast Asia and having the drugs shipped to the United States in the coffins of dead American soldiers. Marketing his ultra-pure dope under the name “Blue Magic,” Lucas starts raking in cash, and his business attracts the attention of Richie Roberts (Crowe), a too-honest cop (he turned in $1 million in unmarked bills found at a drug drop) recruited to lead a federal narcotics unit. Roberts isn’t the only person unhappy with Lucas’ success, and soon dirty cops and disgruntled Mafia dons are gunning for Lucas.

Although it is filled with a sprawling cast that includes Cuba Gooding Jr. as Lucas’ rival Nicky Barnes and Josh Brolin as a corrupt cop with a grudge against both Lucas and Roberts, the film belongs wholly to Washington and Crowe. Washington is especially interesting; his portrayal of Lucas is subtle and understated. For a ruthless drug kingpin, Lucas spends more time thinking, planning and plotting than he does taking out his enemies. Washington seems to get to the core of Lucas’ character, portraying him as a methodical businessman more concerned about the bottom line than anything else. In one scene, Lucas confronts Barnes over Barnes’ use of the name “Blue Magic” for his dope. Lucas demands Barnes stop using the “Blue Magic” name, calling it “infringement” and claiming damage to his “brand.” Barnes explodes in rage, but Lucas sits there silently, his mere presence enough to bring Barnes into line.

Washington gets plenty of choice moments like this in “Gangster,” but Crowe isn’t so lucky. As Roberts, Crowe carries with him an overwhelming sort of sadness. Recently divorced and a pariah among his fellow cops because of his stubborn honesty, Roberts is just as much an outsider as Lucas. Crowe shines, but not as brightly as Washington, and the promise of fireworks between the two lead roles goes unfulfilled until the last 20 minutes of the movie. A sit-down meeting between the two in a courtroom during the film’s climax crackles with energy (much like the diner scene between Al Pacino and Robert DeNiro in “Heat”), but it’s a shame the two characters don’t interact earlier in the film.

In fact, “Gangster” seems to crib liberally from the last three decades’ worth of crime flicks. Scenes of carnage and depravity are juxtaposed with church services and family gatherings a la “The Godfather,” and the sequence in which Roberts recruits his drug investigation unit plays like a condensed version of the first 30 minutes of Brian DePalma’s “The Untouchables.”

Director Ridley Scott’s camerawork, along with Crowe and Washington’s performances, are what make “Gangster” unique. Using a palette of muddy browns and dreary grays of Harlem’s housing projects, Scott gives the movie a sort of gritty realism that most crime films with epic ambitions try to avoid. Scott’s only mistake is the pacing: The first two hours of “Gangster” feel like a prolonged set-up, which causes the otherwise excellent climax to feel forced and rushed. In the span of a few scenes, Roberts goes from having no case against Lucas to having the man in court, and the result is jarring.

As a straightforward character drama, “Gangster” is great, but Scott and screenwriter Steven Zaillian dance around a lot of the moral questions raised by Lucas’ actions. There are a few digs—at one point, Roberts muses that, if drugs were legalized, hundreds of thousands of people would be out of work—but Lucas is never given any motivation beyond wanting to make enough cash to care for his family. The real-life Lucas, at least, is aware of his own moral failings. In a recent interview in New York Magazine with Mark Jacobson (whose article, “The Return of Superfly,” inspired Zaillian’s script), Lucas said of his dope dealing days, “… I couldn’t get a job on Wall Street, not even washing toilets. I went to school three days and the teacher wasn’t there two of them. I had to make a living. I didn’t want to be just a damn bum in the street. So that’s what I did. But it’s complicated.”

Sadly, “American Gangster” is nowhere near as complex, making it fine entertainment, but not nearly as interesting as the man whose life inspired it.