Forest Whitaker, John Tormey, Cliff Gorman, Isaach
de Bankole, Camille Winbush, Tricia Vessey, and Henry Silva
B+
Think of the possibilities: gangsters and geishas,
rappers and raku. Such disparate elements are part of the cinematic
cocktail that is Jim Jarmusch's fine new film, GHOST DOG: WAY
OF THE SAMURAI. The independent auteur's latest picture is
a wake-up call to increasingly dull Hollywood, who recently has
seemed content to rehash old ideas and copycat any new ones. Jarmusch,
by contrast, throws everything he sees into his heady brew, ingeniously
re-imagining the gangster picture as a cross-cultural fusion of
Eastern philosophy, hip-hop music, urban darkness, and overpopped
Americana.
GHOST DOG: WAY OF THE SAMURAI stars the sublime
Forest Whitaker as the titular character, a kind but severe man
of few words who shares his rooftop home with his only pleasure,
the dozens of pigeons in his makeshift roost. Ghost Dog lives
by the precepts of the ancient Japanese warrior code, Hagakure:
The Way of the Samurai, practicing the ancient disciplines
of the samurai and applying them to his work as a contract killer.
In the samurai tradition, Ghost Dog has pledged his
loyalty to Louie (John Tormey), a small-time mobster who saved
Ghost Dog's life as a teenager. Louie, a junior member of Ray
Vargo's (Henry Silva) crime syndicate; has Ghost Dog kill Handsome
Frank (Richard Portnow), the lover of Louise Vargo (Tricia Vessey),
Ray's beautiful young daughter. When Louise inadvertently witnesses
Ghost Dog hit on Frank, an irate Ray Vargo puts out a contract
on Ghost Dog's life.
Whitaker's magnificently still performance is a wonder
to behold. The precision and purpose that the award-winning actor
brings to his role gives both the film and the character a surprising
gracefulness. The coldhearted thug is not on display in GHOST
DOG: WAY OF THE SAMURAI. In his place, Whitaker leaves a noble,
asymmetrical hero, the last of his kind. When the film reaches
its final conclusion (worthy of comparison to any gunfight at
the OK Corral), you know that whatever happens, the world will
be a worse place once it's over.
As in many of Jarmusch's films, there is a wide assortment
of oddballs and outsiders to complement Ghost Dog in his journey.
Of special note is Cliff Gorman as a rap-loving hitman, Issach
de Bankole as an ice cream truck driver who befriends Ghost Dog
(and who, it should be noted, cannot speak a word of English),
and Camille Winbush as a street girl who connects with the inner
intellect of the reluctant assassin.
As a film with cross-cultural and multiracial appeal,
GHOST DOG: WAY OF THE SAMURAI puts its money where its
mouth is, embracing its complexity while never losing itself in
its own artfulness. Finding a more uncommon experience at the
movies may prove a difficult task. Certainly, it will be hard
to find a more satisfying one.
