The story begins with the start of the ghost writer MacGregor's work, accusing Lang by his former foreign minister of imposing sanctions, kidnapping and torturing suspects, and the International Court of Justice issues an indictment. Adam Lang escapes to Washington on the pretext of taking commemorative photos with the US administration, leaving the ghost writer at a beach house on a remote island to complete his work.
The swirl of visual poetry, political intrigue and personal zeal that Polanski creates gets under your skin and brings an icy hand up your back. This is moviemaking.
Polanski's a master of carefully drawing you in that cold gray place where everything is wrong, no one sleeps well and secrets are hidden from the hapless main character until it's too late for anyone to make it out with their lives or souls intact.
Another director would almost certainly have bobbled this devilish mixture of paperback suspense, political chicanery, and jet-black comedy. In Polanski's hands, it's an unholy pleasure: a diversion that stings.
The great thing about Brosnan's performance is that his character's shadow looms over the entire film, yet Brosnan never resorts to chewing the scenery or becoming a Blair charicature.
The thread of black humour that runs throughout the film compensates for its occasional moments of madness. It's a film just silly enough to be taken deadly seriously.
