Regular readers of this blog have probably figured out that as far as movies are concerned, I’m not necessarily the world’s biggest content freak. Nevertheless, I experienced several moments during my viewing of Roman Polanski’s The Ghost Writer during which I purred with appreciation over the fact that I was finally watching a contemporary thriller that was actually about something. And by “about something,” I don’t mean the world-historical events that power the film’s plot, e.g., the British/American alliance in the Iraq war, controversies over extraordinary rendition and enhanced interrogation and/or torture and so on. These elements are handled scrupulously, sardonically, and with a bracing sense of reality that, say, Brian DePalma could never come close to mustering with his ill-executed Redacted. But for all that, those points constitute a sort of Unified Field MacGuffin. No, the something I refer to is, well, humanity and its foibles—emotions, alliances, betrayals, and how all that stuff can and does play out on a world-historical stage.
The setup is simplicity itself: a hard-drinking hack of a ghost writer (Ewan MacGregor) half stumbles into a lucrative assignment revising the memoirs of a controversial and perhaps soon-to-be-disgraced former Prime Minister Adam Lang (Pierce Brosnan). Initially this “ghost” is not particularly wary of the fact that his predecessor, a one-time intimate of the politico, died in what one might call mysterious circumstances. And he has enough on his hands at first dealing with Lang’s bluff prickliness/prickiness, not to mention Lang’s secretary/mistress’ protectiveness of the original manuscript, and Lang”s wife’s aloof machinations and overall discontent. And then, of course, things get complicated.
Many of Polanski’s best thrillers largely take place in tightly circumscribed, potentially claustrophobia-inducing environments—think the close quarters of Knife in the Water’s boat, or the seemingly increasingly narrow halls of Repulsion’s apartment—and The Ghost Writer is often at its most effectively creepy when its characters are stuck in Lang and company’s modernist nightmare house, practically hemmed by enormous windows looking out on bleak landscapes, and festooned with severe modern art pieces (it’s everything the set of Kenneth Branagh’s terribly misbegotten remake of Sleuth wanted to be, and couldn’t). Polanski’s ever-mindful manipulation of space is combined with (no surprise) pretty dynamite acting. MacGregor, getting to speak in his own accent for the first time in too long, underplays nicely; Brosnan just nails a particularly obnoxious state and sense of entitlement; Kim Cattrall as the secretary is gorgeously aloof and miles away from the Sex and the City nonsense; and Olivia Williams is even more piercing here than she was in An Education (it helps of course that this is a better movie). This makes the emotional and intellectual give-and-take of the varied exchanges unusually engrossing, as Polanski all the while ratchets up a thoroughly nuanced mood of menace.
That mood reaches a certain apogee when a one-time acquaintance of Lang’s, an academic with possible American intelligence ties played with marvelous unctuousness by Tom Wilkinson, says to MacGregor’s character, “A less equable man than I would start to find your questions impertinent.” Only MacGregoer’s character and Lang ever actually come out and say exactly what they mean at any given time in this story; and yet they still end up lost to each other. These are apt circumstances in which to stage a paranoid thriller. The film’s punchline is mordantly funny, and ballsy, and has a slight echo of a Polanski classic, the name of which I won’t drop at this juncture.
So is this that much-vaunted thingamabob, the “return to form?” Depends on what you call form. As much as I love many of his pictures, I never considered Polanski to be a terribly consistent filmmaker even at his supposed creative peak. For instance, his followup to Repulsion, Cul-de-sac, was good for a few laughs (and had a great cast), but was for the most part predigested Beckett with a kinky, kicky B‑movie component. (I make that sound better than it actually plays, I know.) His post fleeing-from-America filmography is even spottier, although I’m a big partisan of Bitter Moon. All that said, its more-muted-than-usual erotic component aside, this does often play like, well, a vintage Polanski thriller, with vintage Polanski themes, even—MacGregor as the attractive stranger who, among other things, interrupts a fraught marriage does recall the setup of Knife in the Water a bit, no? And I think it does, finally, belong on the director’s top shelf. I only wish that Summit, the picture’s U.S. distributor, hadn’t looped in words such as “bugger” and “sod” so they could make the one-“fuck”-only quota they needed to get the film its PG-13 rating. It’s not as if the kids are going to be particularly interested in this item to begin with.
Well, thank you for my dose of positive reinforcement of the day. I’ve tried to watch “Cul de sac” twice, and could never finish it. Then again, I was also bored by “Knife in the water”, which I should definitely see again one of these days (preferrably not on a TV broadcast at two in the morning).
As for “Bitter moon”, I don’t need any reinforcement: that movie is AWESOME, and by awesome I mean creepy. And cruel. And awesome again. I don’t understand why it doesn’t have a better reputation; perhaps it’s due to Hugh Grant’s subsequent career?
“I only wish that Summit, the picture’s U.S. distributor, hadn’t looped in words such as “bugger” and “sod” so they could make the one-“fuck”-only quota they needed to get the film its PG-13 rating. It’s not as if the kids are going to be particularly interested in this item to begin with.”
That’s… that’s rather astonishing, frankly. Am I right to assume that the non-US version doesn’t have these changes?
This discussion of dubbing in Polanski reminds me of the insanely awful dubbing that marred the US version of The Tenant I saw on VHS so many years ago. Further proof that art transcends nation-specific marketing plans that accordingly damage the ultimate edit screened in that country – it remains my favorite Polanski, inexorably Kafka-esque and neither kicky nor kinky in its view of claustrophobic human relations (that fellow tenant who loves marches!). Just…strange.
I have no interest whatsoever in THE GHOST WRITER, but THE TENANT is something. When he crawls back up to the window for a second try…my God. That’s not an easily shakeable image.
I liked the set-up of Robert Harris’s novel but was very disappointed by the execution, so it’s good to hear that Polanski may well have succeeded in capturing much of what made the original idea a good one (to me at least). I also think Brosnan’s a terrifically underrated actor, and his post-Bond work is often very strong, particularly when he plays less-than-admirable characters.
I share enthusiasm regarding BITTER MOON, one of my favorite Polanski films*. Recently I watched the Blu-ray of THE NINTH GATE – this is a film I’ve been ambivalent about, not really giving it much though… however, the recent viewing was a revelation.
Polanski’s reminds me of Samuel Fuller’s 1980s work – up through THE MADONNA AND THE DRAGON. His brief access to Hollywood studios and subsidies a distant memory, Fuller seemed a man out of time, but his films gave evidence of confidence and empowerment. (Actually, STREET OF NO RETURN is one of my favorite films of the 1980s.) Polanski’s mastery of the ‘Scope frame (exhibited, albeit cropped, in that fantastic, Kiyoshi Kurosawa-esque still above) is in full effect in THE NINTH GATE, lending visual power to a number of highlights, my favorite being Corso’s ride through a sunlit countryside. The shot is accented by a rainbow – risking the wrath of the cliché gods – but Polanski pulls it off because the shot (a) is fabulous and (b) it belongs with the “Nine Gates” illustrations the characters pore over in scene after scene, a lovely panorama underscored with potent dread.
When I realized Polanski has now been making films for over fifty years, it occurred to me to look around for other directors, actors, and actresses who’ve enjoyed similar longevity. Godard comes to mind first. Others may surprise you – Sid Haig, who enjoyed a recent revival thanks to director Rob Zombie, has acting credits as early as 1960. Sally Kirkland is getting there. Stephen Spielberg’s teen-made film turned 50 last year, and at the end of this decade, 50 years will have elapsed since he made his feature debut directing Joan Crawford in “Night Gallery“ ‘s EYES.
Anyway, excuse my rambling. For this year’s slate of films, Polanski’s new film means more to me than Scorsese’s.
* I also adore MAMMALS, an early, Tashlin-esque short.
When I first saw THE TENANT, I thought that it was almost a blueprint for LOST HIGHWAY. I forgot why, apart from the ending/beginning.
“I only wish that Summit, the picture’s U.S. distributor, hadn’t looped in words such as “bugger” and “sod” so they could make the one-“fuck”-only quota they needed to get the film its PG-13 rating. It’s not as if the kids are going to be particularly interested in this item to begin with.”
Wow. I wish I had something more profound to say (except, once again, Fuck the MPAA), but really.
As for it being Polanski’s “return to form”, well, I loved THE PIANIST, and I liked OLIVER TWIST, so I’m not coming in here with lowered expectations – though I thought Harris’ novel was perfunctory, except for the character of Lang’s wife, for reasons I don’t want to spoil, and the last straight thriller Polanski did was FRANTIC, which I think should have been called “Sluggish”. Still, I’m looking forward to this.
I loved THE PIANIST, and I liked OLIVER TWIST, so I’m not coming in here with lowered expectations – though I thought Harris’ novel was perfunctory, except for the character of Lang’s wife, for reasons I don’t want to spoil, and the last straight thriller Polanski did was FRANTIC, which I think should have been called “Sluggish”. Still, I’m looking forward to this.
I am, too. Harris’ novel is exactly the kind of blah book that has the potential to be a terrific movie. “The Pianist” was great and “Oliver Twist” was pretty good, so I’d say Polanski is on something of a post-US roll.
Whew, I thought I was the only one who liked the Ninth Gate…
I would love to see Ewan MacGregor even if he was standing in a corner with a bag over his head for two hours, so I’m sure I would enjoy this movie. If you love Ewan MacGregor, and don’t mind getting totally “creeped out”, I highly recommend “Eye of the Beholder”. On a lighter note, no pun intended, there is a great film called Brassed Off starring Ewan with Tara Fitzgerald and Pete Postlethwaite.
@Bill: Why do have you no interest whatsoever in The Ghost Writer?
@Dan Coyle: The Ninth Gate is a beautiful piece of filmmaking, especially Wojciech Kilar’s score and Darius Khondji’s photography.
Looks as if I have to give “Ninth Gate” another look. There’s a Blu-ray of it at my local Target for only ten bucks!
I saw GHOST WRITER today, and yeah, that dubbing is pretty blatant. Just another reason to hate the MPAA.
Otherwise, a very entertaining adult thriller, and Olivia Williams is terrific.
Yeah, that dubbing was ridiculous. Especially because it robbed me of the pleasure of hearing Olivia Williams say “fuck” repeatedly.
But, um, more importantly, I’m really confused about the nature of the conspiracy in the story. After [MAJOR THIRD-ACT PLOT EVENT] I basically had no idea what was going on. Can someone point me to a clear plot summary, somewhere?
Spoilers, or at least my conjectures of same:
Earthworm Jim: Mike, the first ghost writer, secretly working for Lang’s former Secretary and current UN-based rival Rycart, managed to figure out the connection to Emmett, and the recruitment by the CIA. When Mike relayed his findings to Rycart (possibly because Mike hadn’t put it together yet, possibly because Rycart jumped to the conclusion he could best use as a cudgel), the latter misunderstood Lang, rather than his wife, to be the mole taking orders from Washington. When Mrs. Lang deciphered Mike’s coded message (the very reason the text was considered an unpublishable mess) she and Emmett had Mike killed.
Lang’s fumbling the dates of when he entered politics wasn’t consciously part of a cover-up, just a not terribly bright, natural-born actor’s preference for the romantic story over niggling facts and details–the same pliable earnestness that made him the perfect puppet for the his wife’s manipulations. The grieving father’s act of vengeance so conveniently erased the possibility of Mrs. Lang’s exposure I suppose I could have missed a connection between him and Emmett as well; but I prefer to take him at face value, another victim of feints and misdirections.