There’s
been a shortage in Hollywood lately, of old-fashion film noirs that read almost like a
detective novel, that leave the clues for the audience as well as for the protagonist to
discover, while creating a tense atmosphere of concealed sexuality and intrigue. The Ninth
Gate is such a movie, directed by Roman Polanski, whose themes always seem to include the
supernatural. It is his European storytelling style that surfaces again. Dean Corso (Johnny Depp) is a rare books dealer,
without heart or scruples, but with principles and respect for money. He is employed by a
wealthy publisher Boris Balkan (Frank Langella) to examine the most intricate of
differences between the three surviving copies of a well known book that is suspected to
have a power to open the Ninth Gate of Hell and invoke the Prince of Darkness himself, in
person. Very quickly, Corso will discover he got more than he bargained for, after a
string of unexplained deaths, followed by attempts, more or less successful, to destroy
the remaining copies of the book. Along the way, he keeps bumping into a girl (Emanuelle
Seigner, Polanski's wife) who appears to have supernatural powers, but is unclear what her
agenda is or whether she works for Balkan as well. Interested, but frustrated and in fear
for his life, Corso will take any help he gets.
Using medieval imagery, suggestive close-ups
and a creepy score, Polanski leads us on a quest for Lucifer, with the path beaten by the
devil himself. He is showing us the way only on a need-to-know basis, and we are as
clueless as the hero. The originality of his approach comes only after the end, when we
realize that most of the pieces fall together to make a puzzle, even though we are not
specifically told where each of them fits. His world knows no police, there is no safety
deposit boxes in which to conceal the treasured possession. A strange bond of respect
among thieves exists, almost a code of honor in an unhonorable profession, where every
book and every man has a price.
The story is a well-thought of blend of
classic detective stories and mystical ideas of the inquisition era, as presented in
Faucault’s Pendulum, by Umberto Eco, for example. It is modern in style, but ancient
in substance, and very well chosen locations in New York City and European countryside
underline that contrast. There will be many unanswered questions at the end of the
journey, even though some of them may have been answered, only we didn’t know it.
Rather than showing us the obvious, Polanski leaves to our imagination, especially its
dark side, to fill in the blanks. In this version of the ancient conflict between Good and
Evil, not only is Good outnumbered by far, but it is not even clearly defined, since it is
championed by a character of dubious moral qualities. It all comes down to the old Bosnian
proverb: he who sows pumpkins with the Devil, will have his head beaten by them.