Editor’s Note: This was originally published for FANGORIA on March 10, 2000, and we’re proud to share it as part of The Gingold Files.
Over three decades after Rosemary’s Baby, Roman Polanski is still taking a measured approach to screen horror. That 1968 classic built its tension incrementally, suggesting scary things just beneath the surface even as it didn’t seem like much was happening on the screen itself. And while its payoff isn’t nearly as strong as Baby’s, The Ninth Gate is still an effective exercise by Polanski, a hypnotic and visually stunning venture into the supernatural.
A bit of full disclosure, though: If you’re not interested in the subject of book collecting, you might not find the goings-on here entirely as intriguing as I did. Here’s a movie about a satanic text that really is about the text, or more specifically, three copies of a volume penned by a 17th-century Italian author who supposedly incorporated writings by the devil himself and was burned by the Inquisition for his trouble. New York publishing magnate Boris Balkan (Frank Langella) owns one of the trio, and hires unscrupulous “book detective” Dean Corso (Johnny Depp) to track down the other two and assure that his own copy is genuine. There’s something almost quaint about the search for these books, as opposed to their supposed Satan-raising capabilities, being the focus of the story, but Polanski (who co-scripted with John Brownjohn and Enrique Urbizu, from Arturo Perez-Reverte’s international best seller El Club Dumas) tells it with plenty of flourish.
Most specifically, this movie is wondrous to look at and listen to. Darius Khondji, whose darkly beautiful cinematography has graced the likes of City of Lost Children and Se7en, outdoes himself here, shooting in a variety of environments and climatic conditions and making every shot suitable for framing. The score by Wojciech Kilar (Bram Stoker’s Dracula) is pumped full of dread without being overly portentous, and the two come together for one of the best title sequences in the history of genre cinema. While the movie is really more a supernatural mystery than an outright horror film, there are some choice moments of real tension, and also plenty of quirky characters and situations; the intentional humor of this film has not been acknowledged by many critics, but it’s definitely there and often effective.
Depp, who’s been specializing in genre roles lately, does his usual disappearing act into his character, creating a man who’s amoral but not unlikable as he finds himself in over his head. Langella brings just the right balance of refinement, menace and sardonic humor to his high-class Satanist, while Lena Olin, as a woman with designs on Balkan’s prize, recalls the feral intensity she brought to Peter Medak’s Romeo is Bleeding. The most fun performances are turned in by the supporting cast, including Barbara Jefford as a wheelchair-bound countess who zealously guards her copy of the coveted tome, Spanish horror veteran Jack Taylor as the owner of the third copy and Jose Lopez Rodero, who, though CGI wizardry, plays eccentric twin book restorers. Polanski’s wife, Emmanuelle Seigner, floats through the movie (literally in a few shots) as a young woman who assists Corso in his search but whose motives remain unclear—even after her identity is finally established.
And that’s where the film is something of a letdown; it ultimately brings up more questions than it answers, and resolves some of them in an offhand manner that those seeking a tidy wrap-up might find frustrating. Those expecting an apocalyptic finish, or even an especially dramatic one, will be disappointed. (Polanski even cheekily subverts what at first appears to be the demonic finale.) For the director, the fun is clearly in the trip rather than the destination, and The Ninth Gate holds numerous pleasures for those willing to take its deliberately paced ride.
