He can't drown two ghost writers, for God's sake. You're not kittens.

The Ghost

(2010)

Distractingly titled, Roman Polanski’s adaptation of Robert Harris’ novel actually concerns a ghostwriter (Ewan McGregor) hired to compile the memoirs of a former British Prime Minister (Pierce Brosnan).

The slow-burn claustrophobia here put me very much in mind of earlier France-based Polanski fare like Frantic and The Ninth Gate. Being conscious of where he shoots his films makes it more difficult to believe America is America (I had that problem with Eyes Wide Shut too) but, that aside, I really enjoyed this, an assured piece of work replete with the director’s hallmark paranoia and unease.

McGregor's generally watchable, but he somehow slipped into a place where he never really seems to stretch himself following his career-making turns in early Danny Boyle films. Pierce Brosnan, and particularly Olivia Williams, are excellent.

****

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He’s so persistent! He always gets his man.

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Another case of the screaming oopizootics.

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He is a brigand and a lout. Pay him no serious mention.

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But everything is wonderful. We are in Paris.

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The game is rigged, and it does not reward people who play by the rules.

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What do they do, sing madrigals?

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That’s what people call necromancer’s weather.

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You don’t know anything about this man, and he knows everything about you.

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They literally call themselves “Decepticons”. That doesn’t set off any red flags?

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Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

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