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Polanksi’s latest film haunts long after the final frame
(by Ben Ritchie - May 12, 2010)
A deserted car on a ferry and a body floating to shore are the hooks that draw viewers into The Ghost Writer, Roman Polanski’s latest thriller — a puzzle pieced together by the finely honed craft of a master filmmaker. The unfortunate corpse, we discover, was ghost-writing the autobiography of former British Prime Minister Adam Lang (the coolly effective Pierce Brosnan), a man accused of heinous war crimes who will do anything to alter his public image. The “ghost” of the title (a character never named in the film, portrayed by the always watchable Ewan McGregor) is given the unenviable task of stepping into the now vacant position and churning out a bestseller in a month’s time that will not only top the charts but also validate the former P.M.’s position in the world view.
Gradually, McGregor’s reluctant author becomes so mired in the scandal surrounding Lang that, rather than writing a book, he’s spinning sound bites and dodging the same placard-wielding demonstrators that hound his current employer. All the while, Polanski slowly reveals tidbits of information with the subtle restraint of an experienced storyteller. As the mystery of McGregor’s predecessor unfolds, and the steps Lang took in gaining political office are revealed, it becomes obvious that the parallels to the real world are unavoidable. Some of the parallels seem to be intentional; others less so.
If there’s a ghost to be found in Polanski’s film, it’s the shade of genuine reality haunting this celluloid one. Certainly, the character of Adam Lang is a thinly veiled impersonation of former P.M. Tony Blair. The source novel, The Ghost, was written by former BBC newsman Robert Harris, who was a supporter of Blair’s until the Iraq War. But once the story passed into Polanski’s hands, the subject of autobiography in the film took on a fresh duality.
Just as Adam Lang faces forces demanding his extradition and judgment relating to past transgressions, Polanski’s own long-standing flight from justice concerning a 1977 statutory rape case came to an end. In fact, he oversaw the editing of The Ghost Writer first from his prison cell in Switzerland and then his home when placed on house arrest. Both “the ghost” (as writer trying to spin truth into socially acceptable near-truth) and Adam Lang (the public figure whose indecent past haunts him and threatens his future) can be seen as two sides of the director in conflict. Naturally, Polanski (the artist exorcising his demons) never takes a firm stance on whether Lang is deserving of his persecution.
It is unfortunate that this film will likely always be linked to the scandal which no doubt colored its telling. If one can separate the art from the artist, this is a cleverly constructed thriller well worth investing two hours. The pacing is deliberately restrained, the performances subtle yet always hinting at something more, the blue-hued cinematography is striking and sets an ominous mood, and there’s a dash of humor just set to simmer which keeps the suspense from becoming too unsettling. Among the excellent supporting cast are a surprisingly forceful appearance by a bald-pated Jim Belushi, Timothy Hutton fresh from his renewed fame on TV’s Leverage, Olivia Williams as Lang’s beguiling and perhaps manipulative wife, Eli Wallach still his irascible self, and best of all Tom Wilkinson, who has the uncanny ability to elicit a palpable sense of dread all while being most congenial in manner. His scenes alone are worth the price of admission.
Of local interest is a hotel bar scene where McGregor avoids conversation with a stranger by watching a hockey game; the footage is of a Jan. 23, 2008, game played between the Vancouver Canucks and our own St. Louis Blues!
If there’s a downside to be aware of, it’s that the PG-13 rating was obviously an afterthought. Several sequences, when carefully viewed, display characters mouthing words that begin with an unmistakable “eff” sound, although what we hear is a dubbed “sod” or other lesser swear. This is likely another attempt to soften the public image of the man behind the curtain.
Whatever else he may be, man or monster, there’s no denying that Roman Polanski is a talented filmmaker. From Chinatown to The Pianist, his impressive resume speaks for itself. Whether or not circumstances ever allow him behind a camera again is uncertain. If not, The Ghost Writer is a most fitting swan song that satisfies and inspires debate as any successful artistic work should.
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