GHOST DOG: THE WAY OF THE SAMURAI – No More Moral Relativism

An unfashionable eccentric, a fool, an idealist, or perhaps a bit of each? Do honor, loyalty, and friendship still mean anything to the terrifying rationalists populating the jungle of modern-day city-molochs? Can one man shake the pragmatism that has been cultivated over years by individuals raised in moral relativism? These are the questions that Jim Jarmusch poses to the viewer in his film Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai. 

They seem deadly serious, and indeed, they are. However, this does not mean that the director answers them in a similarly serious manner. The strength of Ghost Dog lies precisely in the fact that the main character, played by the phenomenal Forest Whitaker, is the only character who does not elicit an ironic, pitying smile. Whitaker gives his character such a dose of inner peace, dignity, and at the same time, cold determination, that every other character, when compared to him, appears comical. Ghost Dog seems to be the only constant in the presented microcosm, the only one who will not turn his back on you when you need him. He stands in opposition to the grotesque world of gangster failures, whose favorite pastime is watching black-and-white cartoons, as simple as their thought processes.

Ghost Dog, with his life philosophy, remains somewhere on the border of two realities, giving the impression that his inner life is incomparably richer than the world surrounding him, even though it too is based on the simple principles of black and white. There is only honor and loyalty of a samurai, who, regardless of the situation, will always serve his master, and Ghost Dog’s master is the man who saved his life – Louie (John Tormey) – a gangster as incompetent as the entire environment he comes from.

For the samurai, this does not matter – he will serve him even though he does not deserve it, even though his sovereign does not come close to matching his vassal. He is like a dog – Ghost Dog – a symbol of loyalty. The sovereign is the master of his life and death, and Dog, even though he is a paid killer, loves life like no one else and respects it. However, he will not hesitate for a moment when he must choose between his own life and loyalty to his master. The choice is obvious. Ghost Dog did not change the world, and probably did not even make the people living in it realize what is important and what is not, since he followed a philosophy foreign not only to the dull citizens of New York, numbed by television and hamburgers.

What is such a life stance? What led to it? We can only speculate. Perhaps it was the moment when a completely foreign person saved his life, or maybe the problem was far more complex?

Life in the reality surrounding us, as we know, is not the easiest. Sometimes simple solutions are needed, simple recipes that always tell us how to behave, what to do, what to say. Someone might say: a cliché and a scheme. The samurai code of honor leaves no room for interpretation; it commands. However, one must first ask themselves the question, “Am I ready, am I strong enough to submit to the rigors, or is it easier to adjust my behavior flexibly to the situation?” Someone might say that the essence of humanity is adaptation to change, and acting according to rigid, yet artificial rules, especially those created somewhere in medieval Far East, is a sign of maladaptation, a search for simplifications and alternative paths. This problem, posed in this way, will provoke laughter in some and reflection in others. It’s true. But is honor, loyalty, and adherence to principles something that deserves to be laughed at?

The structure of the film is a kind of tribute to Léon by Luc Besson. It features the same, albeit creatively reworked, plot solutions. We have the mentor-student relationship, the famous suitcase, and instead of a cap – a hood. These are not direct quotes. Pearline (Camille Winbush) – the student, becomes the spiritual successor of Dog – the next link in the chain – a person who will carry on the sacred tradition of the samurai code. While in Besson’s film we find both a friend of the main character and a diligent student, here this role has been split into two characters. In addition to the already mentioned Pearline, there is another character – Raymond (Isaach De Bankolé) – a French ice cream seller who introduces elements of situational humor into the film. He does not speak English. So, how can the characters consider themselves friends if they don’t understand a word of what they are saying to each other? They can.

Between Dog and Raymond, there is something that could be called “a higher level of silence,” something that only spiritually related people can experience. Even though they do not understand each other’s words, they communicate perfectly. It is one of the more original “friendship” duos since Jerry Schatzberg’s Scarecrow with Gene Hackman and Al Pacino. Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai is also saturated with references to the films of Akira Kurosawa – the most famous creator of samurai stories, and the theme of Rashomon returns several times like a boomerang at key moments in the film’s drama. There are also quotes from classic Westerns, as well as traces of Quentin Tarantino’s films.

There is a significant scene in the film where Ghost Dog and ice cream seller Raymond observe a man building a yacht on the roof of one of the dilapidated buildings in the slums. Each of them wonders “how he will manage to get it down.” The builder, however, seems to answer: “I don’t have time for talks, I’m building my yacht.” An impractical, seemingly senseless activity. Yes, much like Ghost Dog’s way of life. Never ask what it serves, because it is not important whether you get far, but how you get there.