Summary
- Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai is an unconventional tribute to the samurai philosophy, bringing it into a contemporary urban setting.
- Director Jim Jarmusch mixes different languages, races, and ethnic backgrounds in his films, emphasizing multiculturalism.
- Jarmusch's films often challenge traditional narrative structures and play with established movie genres, offering unique perspectives on familiar themes.
Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai is Jim Jarmusch's unconventional approach to the philosophy of samurai, brought to a contemporary scenario. The film has a fairly simple storyline: a lonely hitman, known as Ghost Dog (played by Forest Whitaker), finds himself trapped in a dangerous mob scheme when a hit goes terribly wrong. As the mob rushes after him, Ghost Dog patiently carries out a plan to get back at his enemies, meeting a range of peculiar characters on the way.
Jarmusch is one of the best directors working today, and his greatest attribute is how he uses movies to pay homage to whatever inspires him the most. Entranced by the moral code of the samurai, the filmmaker encounters subtlety and delicacy in a rather violent lifestyle, adapting a distinctive philosophy from Japanese culture to the alienated urban scene of New Jersey.
Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai Is an Unconventional Warrior Tale
One of Jarmusch's best directorial trademarks is how multicultural his movies are, constantly mixing many different languages, races, and all sorts of ethnic backgrounds. In Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai, the filmmaker brings the principle of Hagakure, a complete spiritual guide for warriors seeking the way of the samurai, to one of the busiest New Jersey districts. Jarmusch's warrior has no direct connection to Japanese culture; Ghost Dog is an ordinary Afro-American who spends his days taking care of pigeons, then moonlighting as a hitman. At least half of the movie is simply mood: Jarmusch puts the viewer in Ghost Dog's shoes as he drives around at night, silently listens to hip-hop, or shares ice cream with his only friend Raymond, a French immigrant who doesn't speak English. That's Jarmusch's samurai right there: a lonely soul guided solely by an ancient call that doesn't regard him.
Still, the essence of Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai is following the hitman's attempts to live up to his honor and get the most out of Hagakure. There's a reason why Jarmusch spends so much time just capturing his protagonist's routine; he wants the audience to ask themselves what's the purpose of Ghost Dog's life. The reality is that Ghost Dog is being pushed by the strong strings of fate, and the journey of the hero descends into a singular turning point, a point in which the warriors must transcend into glory like in a traditional samurai movie.
Yet again, Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai might be the weirdest samurai movie ever made. More than anything, the film is a tribute to tradition, an ode to the old ways, but every aspect of it feels new and fresh, let alone the urban scenario. Ghost Dog isn't an anti-hero like any other; his sympathy has much more to do with his tenderness than his charisma. To him, the nature of violence must be patient and serene. The glory doesn't lie in an act of vengeance, but rather in the honor of remaining loyal to oneself.
What makes Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai so different is how all these philosophical matters, and the journey of the hero itself, are interposed in Jarmusch's homage to the present. He's arguing, quite angrily, that just like one must learn to adapt to a changing world, tradition should not be left overlooked — it might as well adapt too. In a world ravaged by so many misunderstandings, pointless acts of violence, and lack of communication, Ghost Dog stands still, faithful to his soul. He finds meaning in his duty, and like a good old-fashioned samurai, he would rather die before the corruption of a meaningless future takes over his principles.
How Jim Jarmusch Plays With Movie Genres
Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai isn't the first time Jarmusch delivers an unconventional take on well-established movie genres, in fact, the majority of his career is an attempt to play with tradition. Jarmusch's best movies lack any typical narrative structure that benefits from a beginning, middle, and end, often leaning on the absurdity of chance to dictate the path of his characters. His wavering, dialogue-heavy stories explore the beauty of immediacy and the laziness of time like no other director, yet Jarmusch is at his best when he brings this challenging style to straightforward genres that have always relied on clear directions.
His first attempt at the feat took place in 1995 with the movie Dead Man, starring Johnny Depp as an ordinary businessman turned gunslinger. Jarmusch deconstructs the western genre by leaving up the nature of men to their predetermined fate, a philosophy that would be revisited in Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai. Westerns usually don't offer a clear distinction between good and bad, constantly reminding the audiences of the lawless state these characters live in. On the other hand, Dead Man delivers an impressive meditation on human nature and how getting to know one's soul is more important than the fate of the body; putting instinct over morality.
In 2013, Jarmusch used a highly existential approach to the vampire subgenre in Only Lovers Left Alive. In the movie, eternity is regarded as not such a good thing after all, as it destructs any chance of genuine human connection. In the case of a couple of vampires Adam and Eve, their love supposedly is enough to give them a reason to live, but they're merely feeding on each other's souls. When one has lived so many centuries and seen it all, very little remains; only fragments of people, places, memories. What's the point of living so long if one's existence quickly wears thin? In the hands of Jarmusch, the vampire's most glorious aspect, that of eternal life, becomes a curse rather than a gift.