The Ghost Writer (2010)

Let’s me say it upfront: Roman Polanski is an snake bastard. The guy should be in prison, not making films. But, damn it, he is one gifted filmmaker. His latest movie is “The Ghost Writer,” a tense thriller that packs a political grenade inside a cache of classic movie lying, cheating, double crosses and swindling. It recalls those great thrillers from when I was a babe, such as “The Conversation.” It also maybe a very dark comedy/satire ala "The Manchurian Candidate."

Ewan McGregor plays the never-named title character, a novelist on the skids who takes a job as the second ghost writer of the in-the-works autobiography of one Adam Lang, former Prime Minister of England and now the target of a possible war crimes trial. Why the second? The first fella drowned, washed up on a New England beach after a fall from a ferry. Or some such incident. Soon enough, Writer No. 2 finds himself in the kind of trouble that would send Bruce Willis into a coma.

“Ghost Writer” crosses the tracks and double backs a dozen times, and even if I saw some of the path ahead, I sure as hell didn’t know exactly how I was going to get there. Nearly every scene, including the final frame, can be taken at least three ways, and all of them more clever than the last. (And funny, darkly nasty funny.) MIA from any real good film since 2001’s “Moulin Rouge,” it’s a treat to see McGregor back in leading-man status. And is it me, or is Brosnan at his best playing a dick?

When Polanski is released from prison after many years, I hope the SOB goes back to work. Movies such as this are too scarce in today’s “Transformers,” spandex-wearing super hero world. Enjoy it while it lasts. And, yeah, I feel dirty for liking this man's work. A-