Written by: Kevin Berge
Who knew so much could come of reading one book? (Image Courtesy of: youtube.com)
Quick Take: Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai is an odd mix of samurai and gangster film that provides deep commentary on the weight of cultural difference, existential loneliness, and identity appropriation. With a tongue-in-cheek style and a slow-burn pacing, it is a movie that will not be for everyone but is mesmerizing for those willing to take the ride.
***This review will look at the elements and inspirations behind this film and will not spare any spoilers. Those who not seen this 1999 movie and do not want to be spoiled on it should not read ahead until they have watched it.***
Jim Jarmusch (Dead Man) is a fascinating director. He makes films that fail all labels and sometimes are barely recognizable in comparison to any other movies. I was a huge fan of Paterson last year despite it feeling completely outside my usual spectrum, and I needed to see more.
Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai is Jarmusch's most famous film and also one of the divisive films you'll ever see. It is violent and bizarre, hard to pin down. Moreover, it is an amalgamation of styles and influences that simply should not work because they are diverse.
This is a Akira Kurosawa film whose script is driven by the Hagakura about an isolated hit man working for the mafia on retainer only to have them turn on him with a hip-hop backdrop. It's a mix of Le Samourai and Branded to Kill. Moreover, it is intensely dramatic with an pervasive loneliness but also completely tongue-in-cheek.
At its core, this is a bizarre film in its focus upon ideas that have long since become old fashioned, almost nostalgic or fantastical in the modern age. The mafia is classically Italian, reminiscent of The Sopranos which began airing in the same year, with the same feeling of time passing them by.
Meanwhile, the hit man Ghost Dog's devotion to the way of the samurai comes off sentimental even nostalgic. He wants so badly to hold true to ideals and a code, concepts that have widely been abandoned in the modern age, and he does so far outside the culture of origin.
The juxtaposition of Ghost Dog's reliance on Asian tradition with his steeped upbringing in the African American culture creates the feeling of a character who is lost. He rarely speaks to other character but spends so much time reading, reciting the passages of the Hagakura to the audience. He is trapped in the words and lost to reality.
Jim Jarmusch (Dead Man) is a fascinating director. He makes films that fail all labels and sometimes are barely recognizable in comparison to any other movies. I was a huge fan of Paterson last year despite it feeling completely outside my usual spectrum, and I needed to see more.
Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai is Jarmusch's most famous film and also one of the divisive films you'll ever see. It is violent and bizarre, hard to pin down. Moreover, it is an amalgamation of styles and influences that simply should not work because they are diverse.
This is a Akira Kurosawa film whose script is driven by the Hagakura about an isolated hit man working for the mafia on retainer only to have them turn on him with a hip-hop backdrop. It's a mix of Le Samourai and Branded to Kill. Moreover, it is intensely dramatic with an pervasive loneliness but also completely tongue-in-cheek.
At its core, this is a bizarre film in its focus upon ideas that have long since become old fashioned, almost nostalgic or fantastical in the modern age. The mafia is classically Italian, reminiscent of The Sopranos which began airing in the same year, with the same feeling of time passing them by.
Meanwhile, the hit man Ghost Dog's devotion to the way of the samurai comes off sentimental even nostalgic. He wants so badly to hold true to ideals and a code, concepts that have widely been abandoned in the modern age, and he does so far outside the culture of origin.
The juxtaposition of Ghost Dog's reliance on Asian tradition with his steeped upbringing in the African American culture creates the feeling of a character who is lost. He rarely speaks to other character but spends so much time reading, reciting the passages of the Hagakura to the audience. He is trapped in the words and lost to reality.
In this kind of movie, I'm not sure if the barrel of the gun was painted blue at some point I missed or it just didn't want to get left out. (Image Courtesy of: film-grab.com)
It's comedic but also depressing, the many odd idioms he adheres to. While the mafia failing to understand him and the way he works is hilarious, the way he interacts with other people is melancholy. The movie is driven by the feeling that he is truly alone (even showcased in two scenes by an unowned black dog staring sadly at him) with only one man he truly speaks with, and they do not speak the same language.
This cultural appropriation may be a more relevant theme now than it was at the time the movie was made, but it still would ring true any time. There is a fantasy to certain cultures and ideas, and sometimes we are captured so firmly by them that they can outstrip even our own culture.
Is this dangerous or just inevitable? The main questions are: are we allowed to incorporate cultures based on fantasy and should we be able to? This movie certainly does not glamorize the process. The film is dark and grimy, and the old-school fantasies that drive Ghost Dog and the outdated mafia both seem to pull them down.
The movie itself though is also cultural appropriation. Whether this movie is borrowing from Kurosawa or Jean-Pierre Melville or rap tracks, very little of this movie is wholly one culture. Its absurdities allow it to be less a condemnation and more of a discussion on the subject, asking rather than answering these questions of its melting pot premise.
This movie's oddball appearance is tied to a captivating performance from Forest Whitaker (The Last King of Scotland). He primarily is acting through physicality from his smooth actions to his body language. His facial expressions also showcase much of what he is feeling, and it all works because there is actual weight of storytelling behind the mystery and ambiguity.
The movie is not striking in its visuals but has some memorable moments of visual storytelling particularly when Ghost Dog is on his roof. Jarmusch plays with multiple angles and styles in a story that is a bit of a slow burn, moving at a contained pace. His script seems simple but often plays with double meanings and never wastes its minutes even if stretches them.
This cultural appropriation may be a more relevant theme now than it was at the time the movie was made, but it still would ring true any time. There is a fantasy to certain cultures and ideas, and sometimes we are captured so firmly by them that they can outstrip even our own culture.
Is this dangerous or just inevitable? The main questions are: are we allowed to incorporate cultures based on fantasy and should we be able to? This movie certainly does not glamorize the process. The film is dark and grimy, and the old-school fantasies that drive Ghost Dog and the outdated mafia both seem to pull them down.
The movie itself though is also cultural appropriation. Whether this movie is borrowing from Kurosawa or Jean-Pierre Melville or rap tracks, very little of this movie is wholly one culture. Its absurdities allow it to be less a condemnation and more of a discussion on the subject, asking rather than answering these questions of its melting pot premise.
This movie's oddball appearance is tied to a captivating performance from Forest Whitaker (The Last King of Scotland). He primarily is acting through physicality from his smooth actions to his body language. His facial expressions also showcase much of what he is feeling, and it all works because there is actual weight of storytelling behind the mystery and ambiguity.
The movie is not striking in its visuals but has some memorable moments of visual storytelling particularly when Ghost Dog is on his roof. Jarmusch plays with multiple angles and styles in a story that is a bit of a slow burn, moving at a contained pace. His script seems simple but often plays with double meanings and never wastes its minutes even if stretches them.
When we getting the sequel starring RZA? (Image Courtesy of: cineplex.com)
Few movies ramp up action the way this one does using silence rather than musical cues and never pushing the pace beyond an energetic walk. The villains spend as much times watching cartoons as figuring out a way to talk down Ghost Dog.
Dog's second assassination, a personal and dangerous scene, parallels the first in preparation and continues quietly at the same pace without hinting at the tension rising. Even the killing of Ray Vargo, the major villain, is anticlimactic.
Sonny Valerio has the most memorable death, dancing to rap before taking a bullet through the pipe under his sink. There is no real climax, just a series of events told chronologically, with Ghost Dog never even in much danger.
The final act is so quiet it barely registers. It is difficult to process as Dog finally falls, taking the bullets of his retainer without fighting back. He even teases how lacking in drama the final moments are. His death is desperately lonely because it once more follows his samurai code. He accepted his death because he was willing to fall on his sword.
This movie has layers of meaning in every shot, barely explaining anything. Despite being a movie defined by its escalating violence that takes so many, it feels weightless, showing it all to mean so little. What did it all matter that the mafia and Ghost Dog followed their old tradition? What purpose did it serve?
Ghost Dog will never be a movie made for everyone. It may be action-focused, but it is much like Jarmusch's other work. Each piece of the whole matters, whether it be the words, images, or actions. Using the Hagukura as the framework, this is a mesmerizing poem, absurd yet humble, nostalgic yet forlorn.
Dog's second assassination, a personal and dangerous scene, parallels the first in preparation and continues quietly at the same pace without hinting at the tension rising. Even the killing of Ray Vargo, the major villain, is anticlimactic.
Sonny Valerio has the most memorable death, dancing to rap before taking a bullet through the pipe under his sink. There is no real climax, just a series of events told chronologically, with Ghost Dog never even in much danger.
The final act is so quiet it barely registers. It is difficult to process as Dog finally falls, taking the bullets of his retainer without fighting back. He even teases how lacking in drama the final moments are. His death is desperately lonely because it once more follows his samurai code. He accepted his death because he was willing to fall on his sword.
This movie has layers of meaning in every shot, barely explaining anything. Despite being a movie defined by its escalating violence that takes so many, it feels weightless, showing it all to mean so little. What did it all matter that the mafia and Ghost Dog followed their old tradition? What purpose did it serve?
Ghost Dog will never be a movie made for everyone. It may be action-focused, but it is much like Jarmusch's other work. Each piece of the whole matters, whether it be the words, images, or actions. Using the Hagukura as the framework, this is a mesmerizing poem, absurd yet humble, nostalgic yet forlorn.