If I had to describe Roman Polanski’s The Ghost Writer in words that sound like a perfume commercial, I’d describe it as a film of “quiet intensity.” As I thought about the movie after coming out of the cinema, those are the two words that popped into my mind over and over again: quiet intensity. And realism. But not the kind of realism that mediocre artists create by having characters stand around and be unpleasant a lot – in other words, not “What is it, Sebastian? I’m rearranging matches.” No, this is realism as in this feels like it’s real.
The Ghost Writer is compelling in a way few movies are these days. Your eyes are glued to the screen, you try to observe every detail and interpret every line of dialogue; something which, thankfully, the movie allows you to do. From the first to the last shot, you’re entranced by the atmosphere and the story and the characters. You’re living in their world, and observing events that matter. When something happens, you react on a very personal/emotional level.

