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Ghost
Dog: The Way of the Samurai
Director: Jim Jarmusch
Starring: Forest Whitaker, John Tormey, Henry Silva
Running time: 116 minutes
Original UK Release: April, 2000
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Ghost
Dog: The Way Of The Samurai [DVD](2000) DVD
In Jim Jarmusch's fascinating meshing of gangster story
and samurai film, Forest Whitaker is Ghost Dog, a hit
man who rubs out opponents for mobsters he's indebted
to because one of them saved his life. Living in a rooftop
shack and communicating by pigeons, Whitaker abides
by an ancient Samurai creed--even when his employers
cross him. With John Tormey, Cliff Gorman. 116 min.
Widescreen; Soundtrack: English 5.1; deleted scenes;
"making of" featurette; music video; isolated music
score; theatrical trailers; TV spots; scene access.
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The fact
that this wonderfully eccentric Jim Jarmusch film was nominated
for both the Golden Palm at Cannes in 1999 and a French César
Award for Best Foreign Film in 2000 is a ringing-and utterly
deserved-endorsement of its undoubted quality.
Brimming
with the director's trademark offbeat humour and often veering
off into the realms of the completely unpredictable, the film
only received a limited release and minimal publicity, which
is probably why it bypassed many moviegoers. Others, upon
hearing a brief synopsis, may have dismissed it immediately.
Bad move, as this is a film which defies simple explanation.
Why? Because
to merely describe it as a movie about a roof-dwelling, modern-day
Samurai who carries out executions for a Mob man who contacts
him via carrier pigeon would do Jarmusch's film a scandalous
injustice.
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In
terms of basic plot, it sounds completely bonkers, but
there are layers to Ghost Dog, both the film and the
character, that gradually unfold as the action progresses
and only a skilled director could ever hope to pull
off what Jarmusch achieves-and to such scintillating
effect.
It's
an intoxicating combination, an almost reckless mixing
of styles meshed with a deliciously off-kilter-some
would say absurdist-approach to comedy.
A loner who lives with his pigeons atop an abandoned
building, Whitaker's character carries out contracts
for a low-level Mob man he never meets (John Tormey),
their only contact being via carrier pigeon. This bizarre
arrangement came about years earlier when Tormey saved
Whitaker's life and he pledged himself in zen-like fashion
to his saviour.
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However,
when one of his hits goes wrong-it's witnessed by a Mafioso's
daughter-Tormey's boss orders that the assassin must be wiped
out, an instruction which Whitaker understandably takes exception
to and duly reacts the only way he knows how-strictly in accordance
with the Way of the Samurai-which basically means systematically
executing all the ageing hitmen who are sent to kill him.
Casting
Forest Whitaker as the eponymous urban warrior would appear
to be a big ask, but Jarmusch is in complete control. He possesses
a seemingly effortless ability to create stimulating characters
and place them in intriguing situations, and, to Whitaker's
enormous credit, he turns in a worthy, even touching, performance.
Whitaker
portrays his assassin as a likeable, charismatic killer, a
loner who is nevertheless respected by everyone in his neighbourhood.
But Jarmusch never really lets us in, so we learn very little
about Ghost Dog, only as much as we need to know.
He regularly
stops to talk to just one person, an exuberant Haitian ice
cream vendor who only speaks French, so neither can understand
a word the other is saying. He also shares books with a little
girl he meets, gets about town by stealing cars and is forever
reading Japanese warrior text Hagakure: The Book of the Samurai.
Eventually,
however, his behaviour does start to hint at some sort of
inner turmoil and slowly betrays his obviously troubled state
of mind and self-destructive impulses.
A wry
take on the hitman genre, Jarmusch isn't the sort of director
who simply tells a story. He uses the character of Ghost Dog
to compare the spiritual, ancient ways of the Samurai with
the code of the modern-day Mafia and it's a fascinating exercise.
In part a meditation on death and dying, spiritualism and
ancient codes of conduct, as a movie, this is an immensely
rewarding experience and it rarely loses a grip on its audience.
As with
Jarmusch's fabulous Night On Earth, he lures the viewer in
and refuses to let go, fusing together a potent combination
of the bizarre and the brilliant that proves irresistible-the
stylish gunplay is really just an added bonus.
David
Lichtneker
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