Catching the vibe is essential to 'Ghost Dog'

Forest Whitaker bonds with the young Camille Winbush in 2000’s “Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai.” (Artisan Entertainment/MovieStillsDB.com)

"Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai"
Released March 3, 2000
Directed by Jim Jarmusch
Where to Watch

If you're dialed into film culture, you've received countless unsolicited movie recommendations from friends. Depending on their tastes (and what they presume yours is), the quality of these picks varies. Sometimes you'll hear about the same movie again and again from multiple sources, enough for the flick to land on your watchlist or radar. And when you eventually get around to watching it, occasionally, the movie lives up to the hype. 

That's what it felt like watching Jim Jarmusch's "Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai" recently, after hearing that low-level buzz only cult movies receive for years afterward. It skillfully blends several influences, including culture, philosophy, and music, to create an aesthetic that is memorable and unique. But even more than any of that, it has a tone that remains chill even in moments of kinetic violence, contributing to an overall vibe that is magic when you encounter it.

The movie stars Forest Whitaker as the title character, a modern-day hitman who fully commits to following a samurai code. In this context, Ghost Dog maintains his loyalty to a mid-level mobster, Louie (John Tormey), after Louie saved his life years ago. Ghost Dog continues to work jobs for Louie until he is unintentionally spotted during a killing by the mob boss's daughter (Tricia Vessey), making him a liability to the crew. The history and relationship between Ghost Dog and Louie face test after test as the mob continues to hunt down the elusive modern samurai.

Released in the spring of 2000, "Ghost Dog" had a modest run at the box office. It had a small distribution, with a peak of 109 screens in its fourth week but never breaking the weekend top 10, en route to grossing a total of $9.3 million. With a reported budget of $2 million, "Ghost Dog" was a modest financial success, but with mixed reviews from critics, it didn't appear to have a long life after its initial release. So what happened?

The first key is that "Ghost Dog" is directed by Jim Jarmusch. As an independent filmmaker, Jarmusch had forged a respectable career with movies like 1984's "Stranger Than Paradise" and 1995's "Dead Man." He was also ahead of the curve when the industry enjoyed a boom in independent film success and awareness. Jarmusch was able to cultivate a fan base that supported his work.

The movie also features a hip-hop soundtrack that reached a new audience for Jarmusch. RZA composed his first original film score with "Ghost Dog," and the Wu-Tang Clan (of which RZA is a member) contributed to the soundtrack album. Music is essential to the vibe of "Ghost Dog" not just in sound but thru the main character, as he physically brings his own soundtrack along with him as he drives around. Hip hop is permeated within the soul of the movie.

Whitaker brings Ghost Dog to life as a very unique cinematic protagonist. There are several films throughout the 90s portraying black protagonists as violence-prone men with status levels that range from hoodlum to gangster. Ghost Dog changes the conversation by grounding his character in a traditional ethos that emphasizes honor, loyalty, and discipline over street rules. Throughout "Ghost Dog," Whitaker narrates various passages from samurai books like "Hagakure" that explain these idealized warriors' philosophy. Ghost Dog's personality is also shown through other ways, such as the carrier pigeons he uses to communicate with Louie, the lonely young girl he trades novels with, and a French ice cream truck operator who speaks an entirely different language but seems perfectly in tune with Ghost Dog.

It's a window into a character that remains very distinct and interesting amongst his peers regardless of job or race. It also makes his conflict more compelling as this modern-day warrior tangles with an old-world criminal enterprise.

What's striking about the antagonists is that after a decade of popular crime movies that acknowledged the allure of the gangster lifestyle, whether it was the decadent lifestyles in Scorsese pictures like "GoodFellas" and "Casino," or the preternaturally cool characters of Tarantino films like "Pulp Fiction" and "Reservoir Dogs," the mob crew of "Ghost Dog" seem perfectly ordinary and working class. They don't appear to be abnormally street smart. They may be flashing guns to people but don't use them much. Most of the mobsters we see are significantly older than anybody else in the movie and haven't been challenged by anybody in years. Their reliance on the mob's reputation and intimidation tactics are almost too effective because it's made them soft and lazy.

Their decision to eliminate Ghost Dog is not the result of a well-conceived strategy based on the situation, but instead because they're going through the motions described in an old mob playbook. Once Ghost Dog proves to be competent and elusive, it's enough to turn their bewilderment of his existence into a near-mythological figure. Whatever advantage they have in outnumbering and outgunning the hitman evaporates when the mob has to go beyond showing up and actually do the work.

Jarmusch conceived of "Ghost Dog" after meeting Forest at a Super 8 store and started talking to him about a collaboration.

"I always start with actors that I want to work with and then create a character with them," Jarmusch said in an interview with Filmmaker in 2000. "I was thinking about Don Quixote, about someone who follows a code the world no longer observes, and I have always been interested in Eastern culture and Japanese culture. And there is Melville's "Le Samourai," which has a samurai hitman, but there were other things as well: films by Suzuki and Kurosawa, and films like "Point Blank," and books like "Frankenstein" and "Don Quixote." And I was reading "Hagakure: The Book of the Samurai" and another book, "Bushido: The Code of the Samurai." Somehow, it all made sense."

Wesley Morris gave a mixed review to "Ghost Dog" when it was initially released. He notes all of the various influences that combine to make the movie but argues that the whole is lesser than its parts.

"In its willful shapelessness, its attention to no specific detail and its inertia, the film answers the burning question, "What if Yasujiro Ozu made a John Woo movie?'" Morris wrote in his SF Gate review. "Like the most enervated rap record ever made, 'Ghost Dog' is made of samples - conscious attempts to mix and match seemingly disparate elements of hip-hop and mob culture until the source material becomes irrelevant."

"Ghost Dog" lacks many of the readily marketable qualities that helped other movies of the era, like last week's "Office Space," grow a passionate fanbase. And yet it endures, all the same, a cult movie that never became so ubiquitous with memes, quotes, or sequels that it overstayed its welcome. These days, being in the know about something like that just makes you cooler.

Every once in a while, fans get quiet reminders that "Ghost Dog" exists. A soundtrack song unexpectedly drops into our playlist shuffle, or Criterion adds the film to its acclaimed collection series. "Ghost Dog" is not the kind of movie that launches a thousand content think pieces and retrospectives that dominate popular online culture these days. It's a note from the universe that keeps us in tune with a memory we enjoyed for a few hours.

It's a vibe.

Next Week: "Fargo"