Tag Archives: The Ghost Writer

Mystery Pic #082

Here’s another…


Young Iain Cognito AKA nymphpomation got this via Twitter within minutes! Yes, that’s Ewan McGregor from kiddie rapist Roman Polanski’s The Ghost AKA The Ghost Writer.

Well done for getting your name on the board, sir!

A Week In Film #136: First Father

Blade Runner: The Final Cut
Got me the five disc ‘Final Cut’ box set, and very nice it is too (though not as impressive on the extras front as the ‘Alien Quadrilogy’)…

Exiled: A Law & Order Movie
Firstly, Mike Logan (Chris Noth) was a great character in the early series of Law & Order, and secondly the premise – Logan, still stuck out on Staten Island after twatting some rich bloke in front of the press and itching to return to the Manhattan homicide trenches – is a rock solid start for any gritty crime drama.

But it’s all done wrong. It’s just a sub-standard ninety minute telemovie; none of the L&O language remains – the CHUH-CHUNGS, the title cards, the split between investigation and prosecution. Even what could be a delicious twist is fumbled. And the music is terrible. What a wasted opportunity.

Aliens: Special Edition
The LLF’s choice – can’t go wrong with Cameron’s space marines.

Raising Cain
It’s worrying when even Scott at Cinema de Merde – my go-to guy when I’m having trouble getting into a Brian De Palma flick – has nothing to say about a BDP film. This is a real mess – it starts off promisingly (if very messily); John Lithgow seems to be a nice guy who’s taken time off work to be a full-time dad whilst his wife returns to her career, but soon shows a dark side. Getting from there to the climax is a painfully long and if we’re honest rather dull journey.

The Ghost Writer
Child rapist Polanski directs accent abuser Ewan MacGregor in a breezy adaptation of tree killer Robert Harris’ novel. MacGregor plays a hack writer specialising in churning out ghosted autobiographies who is contracted at the last minute to polish up the turd that is a Blair-like PM’s memoirs in time for the presses to roll. He quickly discovers that all is not as it seems, and becomes embroiled in history as his subject, played with oily aplomb by Pierce Brosnan, faces a war crimes scandal.

Begins promisingly, swiftly descends into shit, and the twist is both facile and telegraphed. Olivia Williams is good as Brosnan’s wife, who is made of sterner stuff. Due to Polanski’s noncery, the scenes set in New England had to be filmed in northern Germany, and Berlin is drafted in (unconvincingly) to represent London.