Ghost Dog - Way of the Samurai
Just when I think I have everything figured out and
the world starts making at least a little bit of
sense, I go and see "Ghost Dog - Way of the Samurai."
And suddenly I find that most of what I've managed to
figure out is irrelevant, and my meticulously
constructed ivory tower of "What Things Are Supposed
To Be Like" comes crashing down. Square oneŠtime to
reassess. Not that "Ghost Dog" is exactly that kind
of movie. It's not going to bless you with profound
revelations, nor will you stare transfixed at the
screen for ten minutes after the credits have rolled
(like we Dairy Farmers may have done a while ago to
some since forgotten movie about a menace who had some
phantom-ish quality). No, "Ghost Dog" won't do that,
but it will make you perform the occasional double
take, perhaps followed by a poignant "huh!". The fact
is, this is a highly unusual movie made from a
decidedly too-usual technique. "Ghost Dog" salvages a
host of old and endlessly recycled motifs, dusts them
off, and combines them into a new, odd, and
surprisingly engaging and, at times, downright
fascinating film.
Set in a nameless, identity-deprived city at any time
from now to twenty years ago to ten years in the
future - it doesn't matter - we follow a few days in
the life of Ghost Dog (Forest Whittaker), a near
middle-aged black hitman who lives a less than modest
life in a shack on the roof of a ragged apartment
building. Though living in squalor and keeping only a
pen of filthy pigeons as his roommates, Ghost Dog is
the most feared hitman in the city, an urban legend
amongst the underside of society. We are introduced
to his world not through a flashy opening action scene
or ominous special effects montage, but a paragraph of
plain white text on a black background, presenting us
with a maxim from the Code of the Samurai. From this
unexpected and perhaps off-putting opening, we watch
Ghost Dog perform his duties and fulfill his contracts
with a ruthless efficiency, guided and motivated by
the Way of the Samurai. If nothing truly defines a man
than the philosophy he keeps, then Ghost Dog is a true
Samurai warrior. Incorruptible and doggedly loyal to
his employers, Ghost Dog adheres to the ancient
Samurai code in all elements of his life, but most
especially in his assassination jobs. He meditates
for hours a day and exercises mind and spirit with a
whirlwind of martial arts moves and a Japanese
longsword. He attacks in the dead of night with
stealth and guile, striking quickly and permanently
with custom modified pistols. He speaks only when he
has to, communicates with his contractors by messenger
pigeon, and insists on being paid not by the job, but
on the first day of autumn every year. Interesting to
say the least, but there is this one nagging detail:
this guy is black as the night and as American as
apple pie. How the hell is he a Samurai hitman?
The term "Samurai hitman" is actually a redundancy,
as all Samurai in ancient Japan were assassins. As to
how Forest Whittaker of all people could be believed
as one of themŠwell, that issue is never fully
resolved in this film. We are told little about Ghost
Dog's past, and even less about how he came into the
world of the Samurai. What we do know is that many
years before the movie is set, Ghost Dog (we never
learn his true name) was saved from certain death by a
compassionate lackey of the local mafia. After many
years absence, Ghost Dog returned, and offered his
services as an assassin to the mobster who bailed him
out. In the years since his disappearance, Ghost Dog
had become a calculating agent of Death, spouting
Eastern philosophy and boasting an array of
long-forgotten techniques in the art of killing men.
How or where this occurred is never revealed, nor is
why Ghost Dog is using this particular method of
payback for his Mafioso savior, whom he considers a
"retainer", a master of sorts whom he must respect
above all things. Perhaps we are not meant to know
how or why, as the way of the Samurai is mysterious,
and one of the tenets of the Samurai code is the
neglect of the individual for the sake of the duty.
Regardless, the audience is asked to take a large and
rather bizarre leap of faith to believe that this
imposing, visually un-stealthy man has become a
Samurai. Once that is accomplished, you are left with
a film that can be enjoyed on a number of levels.
Boasting at least a dozen flawless hits over four
years, it's no surprise when Ghost Dog performs his
latest job, the elimination of another mobster, with
perfection. But when the circumstances around the hit
change and it is determined, through a less than
crystal-clear explanation, that the mobster never had
to die and the beautiful daughter of the underboss
caught in the middle saw too much, the mob turns the
tables on Ghost Dog and puts on contract on his life,
wanting revenge for the needless death. After his
shack is trashed and his trust betrayed by his
retainer, Ghost Dog fights back, confronting a small
army of mafia-types on their own territory. His
anxious retainer, also on the mob's shortlist for
systematic execution, finds his loyalties torn between
his crime family and his best assassin, who reveres
him for his kindness to him years ago. Throughout the
film we are shown additional pearls of wisdom from the
Code of the Samurai, speaking of honor and duty, war
and love, life and death. Each little witticism can
be applied to an element of the story and a part of
Ghost Dog's character. What we learn, among other
things, is that both the Samurai and the Mafia are
dying breeds, each one struggling to survive in a new
society that kills the old ways and in fact prolongs
the death throes of it's societal elders. By the end,
we have received enough education on the subject to
make the climax and conclusion both satisfying and
profound.
Simple, low budget but high concept, "Ghost Dog" is a
smart film that is five parts philosophical pondering,
three parts tragic transition, and two parts pure
action. Whittaker does an excellent job. Though his
lines are few and his interactions with other
characters minimal, he conveys a controlled deadliness
and an almost supernatural aura. The mobsters, in
addition to being excellent target practice for Ghost
Dog, represent the lighter side of life and the stark
contrast to his unshakable code of honor. They are
bumbling and ignorant, with a business associate
obsessed with cartoons (guest appearance by Itchy and
Scratchy - yeah!) and an underboss with a fixation on
Flavor Flav. Nevertheless, they are violent and
unrepentant and slimy enough to always make you side
with Ghost Dog, though they are all killers. The
action is restricted to gun violence, which is spread
evenly throughout the movie but intense and well
choreographed. I was disappointed when the movie
ended without Whittaker ever unsheathing his Samurai
sword for a killing blow, but on the plus side, we did
sample his casual trademark move: deftly twirling his
silenced pistol from hand to hand before holstering it
with ceremonial flourish, like returning his longsword
to it's scabbard. Though "Ghost Dog" clocks in at
just over an hour and a half, I get the sense that it
could have been significantly shorter than that.
Between our regular checkups on the mob boys and the
interventions of the black cue cards, we must sit
through no fewer than three scenes in which Ghost Dog
steals an extremely valuable car, inserts a CD of funk
and soul music, pumps up the volume (always to "21")
and then drivesŠand drivesŠand drives. We see three
scenes of almost three minutes each of him driving
along the sodden streets of his city, which would
almost be considered poetic and cool if it wasn't for
the vast number of camera angles on Whittaker's face
and the unremarkable views of the very unremarkable
streets. Kudos must be given to the supporting actors
in this feature as well; from Ghost Dog's
turmoil-ridden retainer to the underboss's cute
daughter (Tricia Vessey) to the literate nine year old
Ghost Dog befriends and bestows his Samurai knowledge
on. Pay special attention to the subtitles when Ghost
Dog interacts with his French-speaking friend from
Haiti, which makes for some amusing moments (the gag
is Ghost Dog only understands English while his buddy
knows only French). Example: Ghost Dog stares into
the distance while his friend speaks.
Friend (in French): "I suppose you'll be going now to
do some things because it's getting dark?"
Ghost Dog (not having understood a word): "Listen, I
gotta get going now. I gotta do some things and it's
getting dark."
The film is peppered with little amusements like
that, which keeps the mood appropriately aloof and the
audience alert. Equally engaging is the unusual
philosophy present in the direction of the film. Many
times in this movie the audience is treated to some
scene or occurrence that most directors would never
bother with. For instance: Ghost Dog spies a
whore-ish looking woman pulling up to a liquor store
and running in, leaving her gorgeous Jaguar unlocked
and running. He calmly enters the car and, without any
effort on his part, drives off with the luxury sports
model. Most other films and most other directors
would simply cut to Ghost Dog driving away, giving no
further thought to the poor whore in the liquor store,
but in this film the camera lingers and pans over for
us to see the woman's reaction. She is not happy.
This is an unusual but appreciated detail.
So this film ends up combining all sorts of smaller,
thoroughly exhausted concepts like revenge,
redemption, importance, understanding, loyalty, and
perception, and combines them into a new and very
unexpected story with some excellent characterization
and unique but very good directing styles.
Altogether, "Ghost Dog - Way of the Samurai" is a
terrific film, deserving of praise on a number of
levels. Well written, well paced, and well filmed,
with an extremely unique style and an excellent lead
by Forest Whittaker. While the large gaps in the
backstory and utter lack of traditional exposition may
confuse and frustrate an average moviegoer, and those
extended driving scenes with the funk soundtrack in
the background grow tiresome after a while, there is
more than enough in this dense film to satisfy whoever
is willing to watch and listen.
---
John Paige
5.20.2000
Dairy Farmers For Quebec's Independence