The Ghost Writer - A Review.

Director: Roman Polanski
Release Year: 2010
Rating: * * *1/2

I’ve always been an ardent admirer of Polanski’s work. In fact, his “The Pianist” happens to be my favorite movie of all time. Anticipating his next venture, I waited with bated breath, and after an excruciating delay, his latest installment finally saw the light of the day. Needless to say, it’s a fine example of filmmaking from Polanski.

The eponymous character, the ghost (Ewan McGregor), is hired to fill in the shoes of his predecessor Mike McAra, whose car is found abandoned at a ferry, and who, under suspicious circumstances, washed ashore dead on the island he was sequestered for his latest project: Writing former British Prime Minister Adam Lang’s (Pierce Brosnan) memoir. The ghost writer is irresolute about the job initially, what with all the surrounding scandalous developments and a distant foreboding. However, a fat paycheck for the job weakens his scruples and he flies to America, on the same island, where the previous writer met his fateful demise.

The ghost’s involvement, occasionally, makes him draw flaks and raised eyebrows from the people whom Lang has caused distress to, by playing into the hands of the US in matters such as rendition and other present day turmoil. Lang is accused of aiding and abetting the CIA, by handing over suspected Pakistani officials for having links with extremists from the Middle East. As a result, Lang, charged with war crimes, is soon to be investigated by The International Court of Crimes. The ghost starts skimming the surface of Lang’s personality for the memoir, and driving deeper to find the core that would act as the USP of the book. However, allusions and traces of ghost’s forerunner are found throughout the place, whose death and the ensuing farce for an investigation has lead to more unanswered questions. With his curiosity piqued, the ghost delves deeper into the riddle and launches his own low-profile investigation on the sides, coming up with a handful of discrepancies that were brushed off by the officials during the investigation. The findings cement ghost’s belief that McAra’s death wasn’t a straightforward case of drowning, but a well-executed murder.

The ghost starts to unfold the bigger picture, digging deeper through the filth and mire, sometimes, putting himself in harm’s way only to snatch that elusive truth. His efforts hit paydirt when he comes across a secret stash of documents and pictures of Lang’s early years at Cambridge University and as an activist for his party. Piecing the jigsaw puzzle, the ghost deduces a shocking conclusion which, if not substantiated and dealt with quickly enough, could prove fatal.

Now, since its Polanski, the technical aspects can’t be anything but top notch. Let’s start with the setting of this dark thriller. The island used as the playground for this gloomy, unnerving thriller, is equally chilling in its landscapes and evokes a very saturated feel of life-threatening pitfalls, guarded by players cloaked in sheep’s clothing and a dagger in tow. The mist, in which this island is enveloped, is the unmentioned, invisible, impending gloom embodiment. Then there’s the subdued background score, emphasizing the violent currents under the tranquil waters of what’s going on the screen. The photography is too exquisite to adorn it with words. It’ll be utterly stupid of me to critique the person seated at the top, directing this whole affair. Despite the legal ramifications he was embroiled in throughout the movie’s production, there isn’t a frame that doesn’t have the Polanski signature glossed all over it. He even had the galls and sense of humor to broach the topic of his own extradition travesty in one of scenes. An auteur, inventing his own rules at storytelling and characterizations, is at the top of his game, obviously.

On the performance front, it’s Ewan McGregor who gets the bigger share of the cake, and does wonders with it. He’s the nameless force that keeps the momentum going, and keeps you hooked and intrigued with his onscreen predicaments and peril. As a lamb, let lose amid the conniving, merciless predators baring their fangs, Ewan McGregor plays his part with restraint and panache. Pierce Brosnan, as the former English ruler, exudes his usual flair and comes up with a seasoned performance expected of him. Olivia Williams does a remarkable job with her portrayal of a distraught wife to Lang, treading shoulder-to-shoulder with her husband, trying to make sense of it all. All the other cast members played second fiddle to the primary players, with Tom Wilkinson as Prof. Paul Emmett, a “more than meets the eye” character, being noteworthy mention.

Polanski tried to revive the “McGuffin” effect that Alfred Hitchcock is inhumanly famous for, and he succeeded to a great extent. There were some parts that seemed to wander and could’ve easily done away with, but Polanski is triumphant in producing a neo-noir thriller, where pieces are more interesting than the puzzle they form when assembled together. Throughout the movie viewing, the thought that I was watching Polanski’s another masterpiece, "Chinatown", always played at the back of my mind. Both the movies share some common plots and subplots, with its unwitting protagonist thrown into the thick of precarious and debauched action, ultimately to be sucked into the vortex of powerplay and larger than life ambitions, ready to be materialized on the graves of many. Even though the revelation isn’t as detestable and horrifying as Chinatown’s, The Ghost Writer has plenty of thrills to quench a cinema admirer’s thirst, and the fact that it’s Roman Polanski’s venture should give one enough reason to catch this movie.