No. 029 - 'Ghost Dog' by Jim Jarmusch (1999)

Watched by Mitch Bozzetto at Ritz Cinemas

At a time when we keep hearing about the ‘death’ of cinema, it was great to see such a healthy crowd at the Ritz for their screening of Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai, part of their Jim Jarmusch retrospective. Props must go to the Ritz, who continue to show a genuine passion for cinema through their diverse programming. There’s always something new to discover, or something old to rediscover. This week, I was rediscovering my love for what might be Jarmusch’s most fascinating work.

Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai is a poetic thriller, or an urban fable, if you will. It’s a strange collision of worlds that explores codes of honour and the absurdity of life through a samurai-inspired mob story. It follows Forest Whitaker’s Ghost Dog, a stealthy contract killer who moves through the city like a myth, guided by the Hagakure, the samurai’s book of discipline. His loyalty belongs to Louie (John Tormey), a mid-ranking mobster who once saved his life. Louie pays Ghost Dog once a year, on the first day of autumn, and only contacts him through carrier pigeons. It’s a foolproof system, but when a job goes sideways and the mafia turns against him, Ghost Dog becomes both hunter and prey, clinging to his code as everything around him starts to fall apart.

Jarmusch can be hit or miss for me, but Ghost Dog is a clean hit. A crime film flipped and reloaded into something truly unique. Jarmusch is no stranger to playing with genre; most of his films twist traditional genres in one way or another, but this take on the mob movie might be his finest execution. It’s a film that examines outdated traditions. Ghost Dog’s devotion to the samurai way feels ancient, while the mobsters he faces each hold on to their own dying rituals. It’s all a symbolic reflection on finding one’s place in a world that no longer makes sense.

From the opening credits, it’s a spiritual experience, as pigeons glide through a washed-out city skyline while RZA’s raspy score thrums beneath. Over this, Whitaker’s gentle voice drifts in, reciting lines from the Hagakure, something we hear throughout, guiding us through this surreal existence. It’s a world rich with small details that leave a lasting impression, none more so than the moment Ghost Dog pauses mid-assassination attempt, transfixed by the flight of a bird. It’s here that we see the real him, a man bound by violence, but moved by beauty. Why is he moved by beauty? Because it’s the one thing untouched by the havoc he creates, a glimpse of freedom and purity in a life built on precision and death. It’s also a reflection of Jarmusch’s own philosophy, “the beauty of life is in small details, not in big events”, a quote that features on the poster for this retrospective.

Whitaker’s performance is one of brilliant subtlety. There’s an aching sadness in the way he moves and the way he looks at people. You feel it in his conversations with Pearline (Camille Winbush), the young girl he befriends in the park as they trade and discuss books. You feel it in the silence he shares with his best friend Raymond (Isaac de Bankolé), an ice cream man who speaks only French. These two relationships carry a strong sense of warmth, which sits in polar opposite to the violence that makes up the rest of his life. This is Jarmusch’s way of reminding us that humanity doesn’t vanish in a violent world; it just hides in smaller gestures, and it’s these small gestures that produce the film’s biggest emotional beats.

Then you have the mobsters, a bunch of wrinkled old men who can barely make it up a flight of stairs. Jarmusch plays them as both a parody and a comment on fading traditions. Mob boss Ray Vargo, played by Poliziotteschi icon Henry Silva, is as stoic as Ghost Dog himself, yet spends his days watching old cartoons that foreshadow the violence closing in. Then there’s Sonny Valerio (Cliff Gorman), who fires off racial slurs as easily as he spits out rhymes, rapping along to Public Enemy’s “Cold Lampin’ with Flavor”. These men are not just old, they’re out of sync, and trapped in a time that doesn’t exist anymore, acting out the rituals of power while the universe rewrites the rules around them. You see it in their clubhouse scenes, huddled around old TVs, quoting The Simpsons, and reminiscing about old hits as if they’re trying to convince themselves that everything still runs on their rules. It’s a profoundly weird world that strikes a perfect balance of violence, absurdity, humour and sincerity.

Above everything, Jarmusch’s Ghost Dog is just a cool flick that oozes style from every frame. RZA’s basement beats paired with Robby Müller’s grainy cinematography give it street-level energy, like a ’90s hip-hop music video on loop. Even the way Ghost Dog slides his gun back into its holster, as if it were a sword, is cool as hell. Jarmusch has crafted a soulful gangster film that slices and dices with grit and grace. And if that’s not enough to make you seek it out, watch it for the bathroom sink assassination; it’s one of the greatest kills ever put on screen.

The Jim Jarmusch Retrospective continues at the Ritz Cinemas, each Thursday, until 18 December.

Mitch Bozzetto can be found reviewing films on Instagram: @2025intwentyfive

Fleapit Pick of the Week

The British Film Festival is underway with an incredible selection of films. Be the first to see the directorial debut of Harris Dickinson with Urchin and Ronan Day-Lewis (son of Daniel Day-Lewis) with Anemone. Or see classics including Chariots of Fire, Billy Elliot or some early Hitchcock.

Screenings: Thursday 13 Nov. - Wednesday 19 Nov.

NEW RELEASES:
Yurlu | Country (Yaara Bou Melhem, 2025)

If I Had Legs I'd Kick You (Mary Bronstein, 2025)

Two Prosecutors (Sergei Loznitsa, 2025)

Keeper (Osgood Perkins, 2025)

Now You See Me: Now You Don't (Ruben Fleischer, 2025)

The Running Man (Edgar Wright, 2025)

Cinema Astragale
Faust (Jan Švankmajer, 1994)
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Laneway Cinema
Final Destination (James Wong, 2000)
Wednesday

British Film Festival | selected highlights
Chariots of Fire (Hugh Hudson, 1981)
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The History of Sound (Oliver Hermanus, 2025)
Friday, Saturday & Sunday

Urchin (Harris Dickinson, 2025)
Thursday, Friday, Monday & Wednesday

Anemone (Ronan Day-Lewis, 2025)
Saturday & Sunday

Roseville Cinema
The Travellers (Bruce Beresford, 2025)
Daily (except Monday)

Two Prosecutors (Sergei Loznitsa, 2025)
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Hayden Orpheum | selected highlights
Edge of Life (Lynette Wallworth, 2025)
Q&A w/ director
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Akira (Katsuhiro Otomo, 1988)
4K restoration
Friday

Prime Minister (Michelle Walshe, Lindsay Utz, 2025)
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V for Vendetta (James McTeigue, 2005)
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Sunday

Lawrence of Arabia (David Lean, 1962)
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Changing Track (Tristan Kenyon, 2025)
Q&A w/ director
Monday

Apart Together (Lachlan Walker, 2025)
Q&A w/ director
Tuesday

Golden Age Cinema | selected highlights
Twinless (James Sweeney, 2025)
Friday & Monday

River of Grass (Kelly Reichardt, 1994)
Sunday

Bugonia (Yorgos Lanthimos, 2025)
Friday, Sunday & Wednesday

Ritz Cinemas, Randwick | selected highlights
Changing Track (Tristan Kenyon, 2025)
Q+A w/ director
Friday

Train Dreams (Clint Bentley, 2025)
Daily

Yurlu | Country (Yaara Bou Melhem, 2025)
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Edge of Life (Lynette Wallworth, 2025)
Daily (except Sunday)

Jim Jarmusch Less Is More (link)
Coffee and Cigarettes (Jim Jarmusch, 2004)
Thursday

Cult Classics (link)
Seven (David Fincher, 1995)
Saturday & Monday

Celluloid Film (link)
Speed (Jan de Bont, 1994)
Friday

Classic Matinees (link)
Billy Liar (John Schlesinger, 1963)
Saturday & Monday

Make It Musical (link)
Funny Girl (William Wyler, 1968)
Sunday & Wednesday

Meet Cute (link)
Overboard (Garry Marshall, 1987)
Tuesday

Dendy Newtown | selected highlights
Train Dreams (Clint Bentley, 2025)
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Journey Home, David Gulpilil (Trisha Morton-Thomas, Maggie Miles, 2025)
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Fwends (Sophie Somerville, 2025)
Friday

Yurlu | Country (Yaara Bou Melhem, 2025)
Q&A w/ director
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Cineversaries (link)
Picnic At Hanging Rock (Peter Weir, 1975)
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Train Dreams (Clint Bentley, 2025)
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Cult Vault (link)
Showgirls (Paul Verhoeven, 1995)
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Matinee Memories (link)
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Art Gallery of NSW
The Only Son (Yasujirō Ozu, 1936)
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The Masseurs And A Woman (Hiroshi Shimizu, 1938)
Sunday

Blood Spilled At Takadanobaba (Masahiro Makino and Hiroshi Inagaki, 1937)
Wednesday

Sisters of the Gion (Kenji Mizoguchi, 1936)
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