Hat's Off to Jim Jarmusch: Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai

I like JIm Jarmusch. I think his Stranger Than Paradise is brilliant; it's in my top 15 desert island films. Alongside STP, I have to throw in Ghost Dog.

The reason I'm writing about GD now is because one of the movie channels was showing it while we were eating dinner. My daughter was quite young when it came out, and she showed quite a bit of memory about it, probably because I bought the DVD and played it a lot back then.

It is one of the singularly holistic films I know of, overflowing with the stuff that makes this world so terrifyingly beautiful. Jarmusch accomplishes this in a number of ways, and he doesn't need a ham-handed big concept, over-the-top special effects or marquee names to accomplish his task. Instead, he creates a world and populates it with interesting people doing entertaining things. It's the kind of movie that escapes the typical dunderheaded American meathead.

I took a run through Youtube and found the requisite - and expected - number of clips from GD; car jackings, RZA beats, Hagakure stylings, hits... but I didn't find any that included those moments with then little Camille Winbush, who would find steady work later as a teen on the Bernie Mac show. What a face! And what a presence; her dialogs with GD, kinda droll but shot in that beautiful New York afternoon light, perfectly capture two actors and a filmmaker who are committed to something greater than themselves.

Isaac de Bankole is also great, sharing moments with GD and Pearline (Winbush) that transcend their lack of verbal communication. Their relationship is indeed one of the major metaphors of the movie, infused with all the irony - and comedy - it can muster.

And although she only has a few short scenes, Tricia Vessey's dry delivery is perfect, matched only by the brindle pit bull with his blank stare.

If I don't give a lot of ink to the mobsters - Henry Silva, John Tormey, Cliff Gorman... - it's only because they are the obvious ones in this flick to give praise to. They are indeed scene stealers, particularly Gorman, who's hilarious delivering his limping mafioso take on PE's "Cold Lampin'".

Ghost Dog is a romantic film, that is, among other things, about a forgotten era and its parallels to a modern day phenomenon. That Jarmusch invokes many disparate contexts - bushido, cosa nostra, hip hop, racism... - and creates one of the most singularly unique visions in cinema is an homage to those old school ways and a triumph of the creative spirit. That Ghost Dog is entertaining, funny and poignant as well is, I think, one of those singular achievements in art by a mind on fire with the creative spirit.

Oh, and my favorite among many others is the black bear scene. I remember one of my music teachers once opined that musicians these days don't know how to end a song, that a fade out isn't an ending, it's an engineering technique. While I don't always agree, as I like fade outs and think they can be kinda ghostly, Jarmusch very much is a filmmaker in command and with GD he composes one of the most sublime endings in filmdom.



This is some wallpaper I made shortly after I saw the film many moons ago.

House of Cards: Amerikkka's False Economy

Most progressive economists can see through the smoke and mirrors bilking that is the ponzi/pyramid-scheme American economy. Many moons ago when taking sociology 101 I came upon that staggering stat of over 90% of the world's resources as being controlled by 5% of the population (or whatever it is). At first I couldn't believe it, but this was, after all, a text book. It just had to be true.

Aside from the stuff we can detect relatively easy, our economy really is about marketing. After all, for stuff to be this bad, on this many fronts, with one of the gloomiest and unprecedented futures in history ahead with no form of massive revolt is a triumph of marketing. My favorite theme in life, illusions, is playing out big time. I think that's easy enough to see, and, as the title quote by Farber here says...

This then explains the major theme in my life. Ever since Bertolucci's masterpiece, Il Conformista, I've been more or less pre-occupied with the theme of illusions; how they're manufactured, propagated, reified in art. Ellison's Invisible Man is the bible, but it also explains why I like Hitch's Vertigo and Arndt, Farris & Dayton's Little Miss Sunshine.

But here's another element, what I'll call, "This modern life." It's characterized by the "I'm so busy," syndrome, and it plays into the feeling that our lives really do have meaning and are worth a damn. In fairness, who was it that said, "Being poor is very time consuming"?

I had an experience recently where I caught up with some old friends and observed them with the objectivity of time in-between us. And while I still think they're "nice" enough people, I found myself being quite bored and dis-interested in them. Again, they're not bad people at all, but there's nothing at all that distinguishes them as analytical and critical thinkers. This doesn't mean someone should have a standard according to a particular canon, but that one has the wheels turning. Sojourner Truth, that homespun critic of great importance, laid it out flat for all to see, and her words were more cutting, prescient and incisive than all of the post-modern bullshit I read in and out of college. She didn't have book learnin', she had brains and used them. That's all I ask.

Where is this going? I think it explains in part why the great swindle that is the Amerikkkan economy is so successful at extracting capital from the majority economic bottom and funneling it up to the small percentage of economic elites. Factor in conglomerated mass media, replete with CNBC that "explains" all of the casino games being run (mutual funds, 401k, pensions, hedge funds, derivatives...), a consumer market rife with a myriad of choices (that some capitalists equate to an obvious expression of "freedom"), a material standard of living that's the highest in history, pacification through mindless entertainment (again, dominated by conglomerated mass media oligarchs), the monetization of everything, and perhaps the greatest of all elements, the myth of America, of freedom... and you have a confluence, a system, a perfect storm of exploitation.

It's not brain washing, it's something else, in scale, unprecedented. We, the unwashed masses do our part as well. Notice, all of the oligarchs, from professional sports, to politicians, to the mega corporations and conglomerates, they're all organized. But the public isn't, outside of the game of "republican and democrat." Instead, we're atomized, each in our individual cells, like larva, apart from one another except for the most superficial, ineffective and illusory of ways. That's a major strategic and tactical flaw.

Sassy: Once in a While

Unlike most, I love Scorsese's, "New York, New York." In it, Liza Sings a very good version of this tune, one of my favorite standards.

La Mejor

Here's yet another regret; I never saw The Divine One. Without waxing on, she's my favorite.

The Bad and the Beautiful

A while back I wrote about how while Les Paul performed accessible pop music, his genius was apparent to musicians and engineers. But believe it or not, there's another dimension, a "secret level," if you will, that is the infinite world of music.

The popular thing to say is that if America has given the world one truly original thing, it's jazz.

This then is jazz at it's most sublime, musician's music, if you will that has its lay following but is truly appreciated when one has at least a working knowledge of music, instrumental technique, history, and just plain creativity in their spirit. And among the many regrets of my life, there are a few jewels; one of them is having seen Tony Williams perform several times, a few of them at very small clubs, before his tragic death.

More, I have to say here once and for all that I think it says a lot about our world when mediocrity trumps true spirit and artistry just because it has a big marketing budget.

I'll write more later, but for now, enjoy Mr. Ron Carter (on upright), Mr. Wayne Shorter (on tenor), Mr. Herbie Hancock (piano), Mr. Tony Williams (probably still a teen or early twenties here!!! God, what a life...), and the one and only Mr. Badazz himself.

The Source

With all of the adulation I've been showing Amy lately and lest any of you doubt that I have foresaken my roots.

Amy Winehouse: 'Valerie'