I think my brain might've become addled by the
flash-and-glamour of modern big-budget filmmaking. Quite
possibly the Michael Bay's of the world have managed to
subversively kick my grey matter so many times that films
that choose a slower, less visually aggressive tactic seem
almost glacial in their presentation. Take Roman Polanski's
new film The Ghost Writer, a film that leans heavily
on the old school thrillers of Polanski's hey-day in it's
near-ponderous approach to unraveling the mystery at hand.
This isn't a pulse-pounding actioneer, rife with
stunt-filled action scenes and sweaty cleavage, not at all.
Instead this is a slow burner where the mystery's
various angles are exposed through on-screen exposition,
through characters digging and researching and hunting for
the truth.
And I just wasn't having it. In fact, at the film's
end I sat there and wondered to myself, "Have I lost my
ability to enjoy a film that doesn't just bombard me with
excitement?" No, actually I haven't, this film just isn't
exciting.
Review - The Ghost
Writer
So, The Ghost (Ewan McGregor) is a, sigh,
ghost writer contracted to write the memoirs of a
once-loved, but now controversial Prime Minister (Pierce
Brosnan). The former ghost-writer has died mysteriously and
The Ghost, sequestered on a tiny island, is thrust in to a
tightly-spun web involving the PM's wife (Olivia Cross), war
crimes, and the CIA. Up front, a perfectly fine platform
for a master of his craft to bring his formidable old-school
skills to bear. Problem is, the Polanski of Chinatown
and Rosemary's Baby never comes to the
fore. Instead we have a film that features searching on
Google as one of it's most "thrilling scenes." A film that
plods along, never embracing boredom entirely, but always
just toeing the line of excitement.
This political thriller never finds its groove. The film's
main points, which are The Ghost character and the
"simmering" mystery inherent to the plot, are
underdeveloped. Half-way through the film I suddenly
realized that though I was slightly attached to all of The
Ghost's attempts to unearth the solution to the mystery, I
didn't really even know what that mystery was. Murder? War
crime? The true moral rectitude of former-Prime Minister
Adam Lang? I didn't know, and this realization snowballed
in to the next: I didn't really care either.
None of this is helped along by the ironically barely
existent character of The Ghost. Ewan McGregor, always a
likable front-man, tries hard to impress the character with
some sort of uniqueness, but in the end The Ghost is nothing
more than a means-to-an-end. A sort of transparent avatar
that allows the audience a better way of experiencing the
twists-and-turn of the Lang family. He's not particularly
cheeky or driven, but rather just a paranoid, at times
snarky fellow who stumbles upon the possibility of a mystery
and decides, for unknown reasons to explore it.
Polanski, caught up in a quite a bit of his own controversy
these days, does manage to create a convincing sense of
overpowering isolation. Each character is a singular planet
in their own little universe, trying as hard as they can to
bring something in to their orbit. As the plot plays out,
it becomes quite clear that the majority of the actions of
the past and present are aimed at bring some sense of being,
regardless of their moral consequences and immorality. The
character's interactions are mildly desperate ones, feeble
attempts at jerry-rigging emotional connections.
Yes, my brain has been softened by today's
wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am filmmaking. But no, my gooey grey
matter has nothing to do with my mild dislike for The
Ghost Writer. It's just a thriller sans thrill, a taut
film with out any of the stretch.
Noah Sanders is the blog/news editor at Light In The
Attic and a contributor at Sound On The Sound and
the KEXP blog. He also has his own
Criterion-based film site, Criterion Quest.
If you'd like to contact Noah in regards to his
writings here at Side One: Track One then please do
so
here.
- Noah Sanders
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