Forest Whitaker carries about him an air of gracious somnolence, but there’s also a charge at the center of his sleepiness that works extremely well for his latest movie. In Jim Jarmusch’s Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai, he plays a hit man who lives in a ratty rooftop apartment festooned with pigeons and pores over the precepts of an eighteenth-century warrior text. The film is by turns irritating and inviting; Jarmusch’s allusive metaphysics has a sensual glide, but much of what he’s doing here is also too, too hip.