“Death and the Maiden” (1994)
One of Polanski’s best films of his 80s/90s fallow patch, “Death and the Maiden” sees him once again return to a limited environment and a minimal cast, for his adaptation of Ariel Dorfman‘s play, a hit in London and on Broadway in the early 90s. In an unnamed country (but based on post-Pinochet Chile), Gerardo Escobar (Stuart Wilson) is helped by a neighbor, Dr. Miranda (Ben Kingsley) when his car breaks down, and invites him in for a drink. Gerardo’s wife Paulina immediately reconizes the doctor’s voice as the man who tortured and raped her during the country’s dictatorship, and binds the man, putting him on trial for his deeds. But seeing as she never saw the man’s face, because she was blindfolded through her whole ordeal, can she be sure she’s got the right man? Has she made a terrible mistake? Is she losing her grip on sanity? It’s classic Polanski stuff, and the director opens upthe gripping drama from its stagebound origins more successfully than in, say, “Carnage,” the stormy cliff-top house forming the perfect backdrop, and giving the script a little more ambiguity than it had on stage as a result. His shooting is as tense and disciplined as you could wish for, and the cast are all on form; Weaver’s rarely had a better showcase, Kingsley strikes the perfect blend of shiftiness and professed innocence, and Wilson, whose screen career has mostly consisted of villainous turns in the likes of “The Mask of Zorro,” shows he deserves much more, as Weaver’s weak, baffled, and eventually vengeful husband. It’s not in the very top rank of Polanski’s work, but it’s a thoroughly enjoyable, provocative thriller that’s sometimes overlooked in his canon. [B+]
“The Ninth Gate” (1999)
Despite starring the box office draw of Johnny Depp, mainstream audiences stayed away from “The Ninth Gate“. And its easy to be put off by Depp’s unlikeable protagonist, Dean Corso, a selfish single-minded rare book dealer, who we first meet when he’s fleecing a family of rubes of their father’s rare book collection, and who does little to redeem himself throughout the rest of the film. Depp’s own charisma is the only thing keeping anyone interested in such an emotionally and morally stunted character, whose “book detective” mines the worst traits of the likes of Philip Marlowe, with little of the charm, and the uneasy mix of dark humour and dread, as well as the slow pacing, hardly makes for an edge-of-your-seat thriller. The performances are mainly under-played as well, bar Frank Langella‘s hammy show as the would-be devil-raiser-cum-professor Boris Balkan, who hires Corso to authenticate his copy of a book supposedly authored by the devil himself. Along the way Corso meets the owners of other copies of the book, and is aided by the Girl, who herself may be the devil, or a succubus, or a familiar, depending on who you talk to – we never fully find out. The book dealer’s travels throughout Europe are beautifully shot, in lush libraries and one particularly amazing-looking castle, but still the whole affair feels oddly misshapen and ill-conceived. Very loosely based on Arturo Perez-Reverte‘s novel “El Club Dumas“, Polanski co-wrote the script with previous collaborator John Brownjohn (who also worked on “Tess,” “Pirates” and “Bitter Moon”), and though it’s certainly not the best film of anyone concerned, “The Ninth Gate” still features wonderful mood and atmosphere, largely due to Darius Khondji‘s cinematography as well as Polish composer Wojciech Kilar‘s score, but that ultimately amounts to window dressing around a rather unappealing core. [C+]
“The Pianist” (2002)
Wladyslaw Szpilman (Adrien Brody) stirs in a bombed-out, depleted home, stuck amidst the rubble. He clings for his life to a can of fruit, stunned this small generosity has survives the tanks, guns and murder that has annihilated all surrounding signs of life. His sad eyes seem to be the only living part of his body, which is covered by a tattered jacket, a lengthy beard, and reeks an almost-visible odor. Those eyes dart back and forth, gazing at rocks on top of rocks on top of what used to be someone’s home. He’s starving, and the possibility of getting this can open is as fragile as his spindly frame, as fragile as hope. In the hands of a classic silent comedian, this could be Chaplinesque tragicomedy, a mordantly funny situation that renders the unpalatable absurd. But while Polanski has always been a little mischievous, a little playful, this moment is instead fraught with the deepest, most upsetting, unsettling existential terror. The ignominy far from over for Szpilman – a gun-toting goose-stepper will soon find him and force the musician’s weak, trembling fingers to tickle the ivories for his pleasure. But in this snapshot of what might be Polanski’s most horrifying horror film yet, we already see how one man’s desperate struggle to survive, just survive, can become poetry in the hands of a skilled and inspired filmmaker. Polanski won the Best Director Academy Award for this film, and it’s one of the organization’s great moments of clarity. [A]
“Oliver Twist” (2005)
Fresh off his Oscar-winning success with “The Pianist,” and semi-rehabilitated, at least in the eyes of some, as a result, Polanski surprised many by choosing to adapt Charles Dickens‘ classic novel, arguably his first family film (although the director doesn’t soften the harder edges, unlike many takes). And it’s certainly handsome, lavish and, as ever, a rollicking good story; there’s only a certain degree to which you could botch this one. The cast are mostly strong, both the kids and the elders, particularly Ben Kingsley who is a perfect Fagin, bringing both pathos and comedy while side-stepping the sour racial caricature of some of his predecessors. But something’s a little off. The production design never really convinces as Victorian London over, say, a backlot in Prague, and crucially, Polanski’s touch seems all but absent; of all the films of his career (even “Carnage“), it’s the one that most feels like anyone else could have directed. Furthermore, there’s nothing really to distinguish it from the dozens of other adaptations that came before, and you would have thought that Polanski, if anyone, could find a fresh spin on the thing. An enjoyable enough film for a rainy Sunday afternoon, but hardly worthy of mentioning in the same breath as top-tier Polanski. [C]
