.co.uk

Let's start by saying that Ghost Dog isn't for everyone. Most will consider it a weird film, considering that it tracks a solitary African-American, Hip-Hop-listening assassin, who follows the ancient code of the Samurai. On top of that, he lives on the rooftops and has a fascination for pigeons; his best friend is also a Haitian ice-cream salesman named Raymond, who doesn't even speak a word of English.

Welcome to the world of independent filmmaking. Written and directed by Jim Jarmusch, Ghost Dog draws parallels between the mafia of present day and the old Samurai code, in an utterly engrossing, if at time's ridiculous, manner. With elements of action, drama and comedy, it's hard to pinpoint a genre to which the film will belong; rather, it's best just to enjoy the film for what it is: Intelligent, violent, funny and, overall, vibrantly original.

The title character is a loner, played by lazy-eyed Forest Whitaker. He is guided by the words of Hagakure: The Book Of The Samurai in the jobs assigned to him by his retainer, Louie (John Tormey). When one of the hits goes wrong, however, Ghost Dog becomes a target for the mob, and has to defend himself while observing the strict behavioural code belonging to his Samurai beliefs.

"The way of the samurai is found in death," he says in one of many quotes from Yamamoto Tsunetomo's text. In accordance to this, Ghost Dog feels that he owes his life to his retainer, who rescued him from trouble in his teenage years. This notion prepares the audience for the inevitable outcome.

The points about loyalty and the never-ending cycle of violence within the gritty, urban world of the mafia are the backbone of Ghost Dog. But the film is so smart in its direction that it lets you dwell on this later and appreciate the dry humour and subtle violence in the meantime, purely for entertainment value. Scenes such as the Mafia boss watching violent cartoons (depicting that death is an inevitable part of every world), one of the gangsters rapping along to Flavor Flav in front of his bathroom mirror, and a small-time mugger getting his arse kicked by an old man all contribute to this.

"Can Violence be Poetic?" Ghost Dog asks, which is the most intriguing aspect. Much like in John Woo's famous works The Killer and Hard Boiled, Whittaker's character appears alienated from the rest of the world: He chooses a quotation from his personal bible after most of his killings to underscore his spirituality, strength and wisdom. Most of his conversations with outside characters only develop as a result of a mutual love for a particular book, or reading in general.

It is the philosophy that makes Ghost Dog worthy of at least a second look. Upon repeat viewing, the film's attention to detail is fascinating: Cinematographer Robby Müller gives the film a dark and seedy look, and as the world crumbles around Ghost Dog we see him appreciating the finer things of human nature. The character looking on in awe at the freestyle rappers in the park, and appreciating the moments of tranquillity by listening to Hip-Hop and Jazz in-between his business, allows the audience to then appreciate the excellent score of Wu-Tang front man, RZA.

Without ever seeming pretentious, the film breaks down the setting into segments, from which we are invited to analyze the soul of each character. Spirituality is a prominent feature of Ghost Dog, and by poetically meditating upon the influence of violence and the code of honour, we become inspired by the moral of the film: "Everything ends, and the end is what matters."

Even if you don't go by Ghost Dog's every word, you'll likely identify with the film's protagonist on some level -- just like he somehow managed to do with his best friend, the French- speaking ice-cream salesman. Less of an action movie, Ghost Dog is a story of an isolated individual's wisdom attempting to conjure away the violent, repressive ideologies of the everyday world. In one word: Brilliant.

(C) Andy Carrington, 2009.