ALEXANDER BISLEY files an appreciation of Spike Lee's New York story, “25th Hour”.

SPIKE LEE stylishly captures the zeitgeist of contemporary New York in this lyrical near-masterpiece, the first film explicitly set post 9/11. As the title suggests, it's the last day of a condemned drug dealer Monty Brogan (Edward Norton); he ties up the loose ends of his life before seven years in the slammer for dealing drugs. (How he came to this point is explained in flashbacks). He spends time with his father James (Brian Cox), girlfriend Naturelle Riviera (Rosario Dawson), best friends Wall St trader Francis Xavier Slaughtery (Barry Pepper) and English teacher Jacob Elinsky (Phillip Seymour Hoffman), and Russian mobster associates Kostya Novotny (Tony Siragusa) and Uncle Nikolai (Levani). A scene in a cool nightclub brings the characters, and complications of the plot, together. Lee and his crew get the feel of the club just right.

The cast, working on a tenth of their usual salaries, are uniformly fine. Norton, showing the range and control that have characterised his celebrated roles in such films as Fight Club and American History X, is amazing as Monty. Seymour Hoffman adds another character to his coterie of masterfully played dodgy bastards that include Punch-Drunk Love, Red Dragon and Happiness. Paquin is the equal of this august company, playing Mary, Elinsky's student and objection of affection, with the talent and charm she showed in The Piano.

It's the first Lee "joint" not based on a script by Lee; David Benioff's powerful story and script shows why Lee made this exception. In addition to Lee's consummate direction, which is both relaxed and intense, the craftsmanship of the film is consistently outstanding. The young Mexican cinematographer Rodrigo Prieto is a virtuoso, and his refined, graceful work here rates alongside his cinematography on Amores Perros, 8 Mile and Frida. Jump cuts, alternate takes on the same action, double edits, and dreamy, ethereal camera work, are good examples of Prieto and Lee's independent aesthetic. Lee regular Terence Blanchard's score complements things nicely (though it took me three viewings to appreciate its qualities).

Non sequitur alert: when's New Zealand getting a chance to see Lee's subsequent pic She Hate Me?; "May not be subtle or disciplined, but it is funny as hell", according to The New York Post.

The black Americans in this story, the cops who busted Monty, are not endearing characters, and Lee portrays them as they deserve. Hopefully, this will silence those tiresome idiots who insist that Lee only makes films about blacks and issues concerning blacks.

Amongst all the darkness, dread and sense of tragedy, a sense of humour flourishes. Monty asks one of the cops who is sadistically interrogating him: "When you have your dick in his mouth does he just keep on talking like that? Because it seems to me he just never shuts up. I'm just curious. Does that get annoying? You're fucking a guy in the mouth and he won't shut up."

Monty delivers a lengthy, vituperative hate-love monologue on New York, known as the "fuck you" scene, which disses nearly every group in the city. Three of my favourite bits:

On the Wall St traders: "Fuck the Wall Street brokers, self-styled masters of the universe., Michael Douglas-Gordon Gecko wannabe motherfuckers figuring out new ways to rob hard-working people blind. Send those Enron arseholes to jail for fucking life. You think Bush and Cheney didn't know about that shit? Give me a fucking break."

On New York's cops: "Fuck the corrupt cops with their anus-violating plungers and their 41 shots, standing behind a blue wall of silence. You betray our trust."

On the church: "Fuck the priests who put their hands down some innocent child's pants. Fuck the church that protects them, delivering us into evil. And, while you're at it, fuck JC! He got off easy. A day on the cross, a weekend in hell and all the hallelujahs of the legioned angels for eternity. Try seven years in fucking Otisville J."

This is a hilarious, inspired scene, understated – unlike this review – and powerfully played by Norton. Disney executives did their best to bully Lee into cutting it, but he refused. If only other filmmakers had similar courage and influence.

In no way does Lee excuse or glamourise Monty for his sins: for example, he subtly show how his dealing helped wreck the life of a man named Simon; and Norton states, on the commentary, that the film is "about the consequences of not examining what you're doing". But coupled with this is an intelligent, sensitive look at what it means to imprison someone: the affect of incarceration on an individual – not least the horrific sexual violence which authorities the world over ignore – and the affect on their lovers, friends and family. Don Flip-Flop should watch the movie.

A moving elegy to the spirit – and flaws – of New York, the city is as important a character in this film as Monty or any other. Lee on 9/11: "I had to include it." In these sad times of myopic extremism, Lee deftly handles the event. He pays poignant tribute to the people murdered in the atrocity with being overly sentimental, mawkish, or jingoistic. He excoriates Bin Laden, and is critical of Dubya.

If only Disney – and indeed the other major studio – would bankroll more films of 25th Hour's quality and sophistication. Sadly, it underperformed at the box office, and met with an embarrassingly provincial attitude from too many critics.

In 2003 we expected a great film about New York. But Maestro Martin Scorsese's Gangs of New York was an uncharacteristic let down. New York's other cinematic laureate, Spike Lee, provided us this with 25th Hour. As Scorsese summates Lee's immense contribution: "It's a unique vision. And it's a vision that's much needed in American cinema."