Review: Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai (1999)
Review by Scott Hunt Visit me at Movie Hunt http://netdirect.net/~hunt/index.html)
Cast: Forest Whitaker, Henry Silva, Cliff Gorman, John Tormey, Gene Riffini, Victor Argo, Tricia Vessey, Isaach de Bankole', Camille Winbush Director: Jim Jarmusch Writer: Jim Jarmusch
Rating: Good Shot (3 out of 4 stars)
Languid, yet pointed and focused, Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai sublimely savages our cultural fascination with the mafia and the sleek, ultra-cool, cinematic image of the hitman. Juxtaposing the samurai's honor code of feudal Japan against the tradition bound modus operandi of the american/italian mafia, it ceaselessly chips away with a sculptor's precision at the archaic foundations of both as they lumber, dinosaur-like, to function in the modern era. Director Jarmusch gleefully plays the iconoclast, ripping into Mafioso precepts with splashes of acidic wit. Using a palate of bleached colors, Jarmusch lugubriously maintains a tone of desolation that belies the many sparks of laugh out loud humor punctuating the film. He doesn't cater to audience expectations of hyper-colorized, stylized violence and gunplay where no one dies. The action is presented in flat, brutal codas. Bullets have permanence. Death has consequences. The movie rises beyond standard conventions to become a meditation on the concepts of honor and loyalty. It is an anti-movie, of sorts. There are few photogenic, empathetic characters for the audience to fall in love with. This isn't a film that lovingly holds your hand. There are dark, contemplative moments and the film firmly holds you by the shoulder, just so, asserting itself for all to see.
The fulcrum for the movie's thematic balancing act is Ghost Dog, a mafia hitman. A twist on the stereotypical image of the mob enforcer, Ghost Dog is a hilarious contradiction in terms. Unlike the sleek, muscular killing machines one is accustomed to, we are given an inner city black man who is overweight and slovenly, replete with chapped, dirty hands and rumpled clothing. He wears a hooded sweatshirt, which he often pulls over his head, giving him a monk-like appearance. There are no acrobatic back flips and shiny super guns in his arsenal. He uses old, worn weapons and simply goes about his tasks in economical, efficient and pleasureless fashion. Ghost Dog is a disciple of the old ways of the samurai, distilling the essence of his life through the filter of a book, which he reads daily, Hagakure: The Way of the Samurai. Life consists of simple pleasures for him: ice cream, warm rooftop naps and good books. Ghost Dog lives, as it were, by the basic tenet expressed by his book; one should start each day considering oneself as dead. Living atop an abandoned building, surrounded by his flock of pet carrier pigeons, Ghost Dog exists in a netherworld lacking creature comforts and friends. He craves nothing more. As he puts it late in the film, "I've seen all I want to see." He exists in a spiritual world of the mind, gaining moral sustenance from his readings.
Ghost Dog wasn't always as he is presented. In several Roshomon-like flashbacks, it's shown how Ghost Dog was assaulted by racist white males and beaten nearly to death until the timely intervention of a Good Samaritan, that "Samaritan" being a foot soldier in an aging crime family. Ghost Dog pledges his life to the service of the man, Louie (Tormey), as repayment. After years of loyal service, Ghost Dog is sent, by Louie, to kill "Handsome Frank", a made man within Louie's organization who has run away with the crime boss's daughter, Louise (Vessey). Ghost Dog wordlessly executes his task, witnessed by Louise, whom he spares, as she sits watching a Betty Boop cartoon, clutching a copy of the book, Roshomon. In a bit of synchronicity, Louise loans the book to Ghost Dog.
Upset that Frank was taken out by someone not from the family, the mob bosses, in turn, put out a hit on Ghost Dog in a perverse twist of loyalty to their assassinated comrade. The rest of movie holds the dated value systems of both the mafia and Ghost Dog up to the light of a new millennium with many acerbic asides as the two come factions come into conflict.
The theme of old cartoons flares up time and again, each time showing cartoon violence that is in sharp counterpoint to the reality of Ghost Dog's world. Each time a character is shown watching a cartoon, it's from the same era, Betty Boop, Felix the Cat, etc., a reflection of days gone by. Near the end, Louise is watching a cartoon that's a departure from the previously shown ones. It's a bit of audacity on Jarmusch's part that is nicely effective, despite it's surrealistic nature.
As Ghost Dog floats through his world, his life is touched by two people. One is a sage little girl (Winbush) who connects with Ghost Dog through their love of reading. She comes to symbolize a melding of the old ways and new sensibilities, just as Louise ultimately does. By film's end, the fact that Jamusch is so effective at illustrating the tenuous bond between the two is a testament to his skill as a writer. The other person in Ghost Dog's world is an ice cream (de Bankole') vendor who only speaks french, yet intuitively shares a rapport with Ghost Dog. The vendor is the literal stranger in a strange land.
Jarmusch, through rapper/composer RZA, underscores his film with rap and reggae music, which at first blush seems dichotomous, but its primal rhythms serve to strengthen the fundamental nature of the movie. Ghost Dog seems to draw some type of strength from the rap music he listens to as he negotiates the streets in various stolen cars. (Which, in and of itself, presents another paradox about Ghost's Dog's sense of honor.)
The head Mafioso is played by Henry Silva with a stone faced resignation. Of all the cartoonish mobsters, he is the only one who appears self aware of his state in the world. Gorman plays Sonny, a lieutenant who respects the old ways, yet has a quirky affinity for rap music, a love comically shown in several impromptu displays. Ruffini seems the truest reflection of the mafia. He is a husk of a man, assisted by two hearing aids, who barks out advice without truly hearing what he, or others are saying.
Whitaker carries the film by using what truly great actor's use, his face. Ghost Dog is reticent to speak, often going for long periods without doing so. The fact that Whitaker can convey such a wide range of emotion through a gesture or look is a remarkable talent. Although the film has a deliberate pace, some of the late night drives and walks taken by Ghost Dog dragged the momentum down.
Truly tragic is how Ghost Dog misinterprets Japanese honor in his final confrontation with the mob. He reveals himself to be so desperate for spiritual guidance through the Hagakure that he fails to truly adapt it to what is real and true in his world. Carried on the shoulders of a remarkable performance by Whitaker, Ghost Dog rises beyond being a characterization or icon, into a figure that garners sympathy, if not a bit of pity.
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