Polanski's much-anticipated "Ghost Writer" is hardly a taut thriller - and - no wonder!
After all, the beleaugered film director (currently under house arrest in Switzerland) has drawn out the plotline for this dicey potboiler so sparsely (pedestrian-style) over a two-hour stretch that it lacks any tension to sustain any suspense save for a nano-second or two.
When those precious moments strike out and touch the audienc - the edge-of-your seat peaks are usually triggered by the remarkable efforts of one lone soul - Ewan McGregor (and not because of any magic wand or dazzling wizardy dredged up by the once-celebrated director who is now in a decline in respect to his creative and once-insightful vision).
Judging by the "look" and "feel" of "Ghost Writer" - it's evident that Polanski took a stab at a project he half-expected to drum up phenomenal commercial success in order to pad his bank account.
To pay off his victim in the rape case, perhaps?
While the big-budget feature appeals to the eye with - breathtaking cinematography, stunning backdrops, and set-ups that seduce even the most sophisticated folks - beneath the slick manipulative surface Polanski's latest whodunit falls flat (is empty).
Part of the reason is due to the fact there is nothing original here.
Basically, "Ghost" is a tale about moles and CIA agents and a whole gang of ne'er-do-wells we've seen on the wide screen ad nauseam in recent years at a time when terrorism and national security have prompted writers and studio heads to fathom up yarns to mirror the truth because of the shock (oh my gosh, not in America) value.
Mind you, quality spy films generally sell tickets, provided they're deliciously well-crafted.
Here, Polanski's directing is safe, almost laughable.
The term "hack" is applicable.
The old dawg has drifted far from the maverick days from whence virile powers once sprang - and subsequently carved a niche for the French auteur - in Hollywood's golden filmmaking circles.Ewan McGregor (bare a** and all) saved the day in many respects for a multitude of innocent fans who obviously stumbled into the theatre clueless after having been deceitfully lured in by virtue of an enticing film promotion that tricked 'em.
McGregor is worth the price of admission alone.
As to the rest of the cast - well - same old same old.
Once the word gets out about this disappointing political espionage clunker, I expect attendance will drop off dramatically.
P.T. Barnum said it best:
"There's a sucker born every minute."
