The Ninth GateEvil and human nature share a common trait: recognizing that something is wrong, but doing it anyway. The Ninth Gate is a thriller about an unscrupulous vintage book broker named Dean Corso (Johnny Depp), who is commissioned by the filthy rich book connoisseur and devil enthusiast, Boris Balkan (Frank Langella), to track down copies of a book reported to have been written by Satan himself. This job takes Corso from the streets of New York City to Spain, Portugal, and eventually France, throughout which he is trailed then aided by a mysterious young woman (Emmanuelle Seigner), whose motivations are as mysterious as Corso's quest.
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The Ninth Gate was adapted by Roman Polanski from a novel titled "The Club Dumas" by Arturo Pérez-Reverte, and it retains the trappings of a paperback detective story with a liberal peppering of the edgy occult. Yet this isn't unfamiliar territory for movies, and even less so for Polanski, who rose to prominence with films like Rosemary's Baby--also adapted from a novel, and also about the devil. Similarly, the premise for this film echoes another detective story about the "morning star": Angel Heart. But watching The Ninth Gate again made me realize that it actually shares more in common with Polanski's Chinatown. This is most evident in Corso and his quest, but also in the people who cross his path. Although it was a "Mrs. Mulwray" who put Jake Gittes up to his investigation in Chinatown, the equivalent of Noah Cross--i.e. Balkan in The Ninth Gate--sets Corso on his hunt. And almost right out of the gate (pardon the pun), Corso encounters his first femme fatale, the sexy yet sinister widow, Liana Telfer (Lena Olin). Liana's husband, Andrew (Willy Holt), commits suicide in the prologue to The Ninth Gate, followed by the camera ominously panning over to an empty spot on his bookshelf, later revealed to be where the insidious tome which Balkan acquired shortly thereafter once dwelt. Liana plays the part of the cool and collected younger wife when Corso comes to compare books, recalling Barbara Stanwyck from Double Indemnity. She ramps up the seduction when she later comes to visit him in a scene right out of a classic private eye pulp adventure story. (She even calls Corso a "book detective".) Corso is a surrogate for Gittes in more than just playing the part of an investigative protagonist. He isn't really aware that he's being dragged down into a quagmire of a conspiracy until it's too late. He considers himself a professional; even though Balkan observes that his priority is to money, he refuses to be bought by Liana when she offers to pay him more to reclaim the "The Nine Gates of the Kingdom of Shadows" for her. Corso uses tricks of the trade and deception to give himself an advantage when he can. He is well-known (infamous, even) in his field, and stays connected with a rare book dealer named Bernie Ornstein (James Russo) to facilitate his niche trade. Corso is also a lonely man, who spends his nights chucking a frozen dinner in his microwave when he returns to his ramshackle apartment, and pouring himself a drink and smoking a cigarette in every other scene. (And on that note, it's just a little implausible that a rare book dealer would smoke so much in proximity to the rare books he deals in--just saying.) One crucial difference between Corso and Gittes, however, is that Corso is missing that withered shred of humanity that gets finally ripped away from Gittes at the end of Chinatown. Corso may have once had this goodness within him, but by the time we catch up to him in The Ninth Gate, it's long gone, making him a prime target for the Prince of Darkness to bend him to his will.
Polanski's The Ninth Gate seems to exist on two different wavelengths. On one hand, it feels like a familiar romp in occult thriller fare, with a plot that has double-crosses, secret societies of depraved millionaires who meet at a mansion right out of Eyes Wide Shut, and cryptic murders here and there that Corso always just happens to stumble upon first. On the other hand, there is a dreamlike quality to it that defies traditional logic. This is accented by an opulent and lovely musical score by Wojciech Kilar, which stands out as something special in The Ninth Gate. There is a lot of talk about rare book collections valued in the millions all throughout this film--enough to make speculators start drooling at the possibility of making it big on dusty first editions. Of course this feels a bit implausible, but it sets the stage for what kind of world Corso operates in, and also why his con for a collection of original editions of Don Quixote establishes him both as an opportunistic wolf and a savvy pro who always lands on top. Lots of event may get repeated, and weren't that original in the first place. (Seriously, how many times does Corso get conked on the head and knocked into unconsciousness?) But The Ninth Gate retains a kind of sleazy charm that comes from its brand of source material, where cliches aren't so much a flaw as they are a part of the formula that makes them popular. Corso--whose name means "run"--spends most of the film chasing after clues to solve a great mystery. Sure, Balkan's going to give him plenty of "hazard pay", but there is a sense that Corso needs this kind of thrill to give his life purpose...and sometimes, so does the audience. There's a certain charm to anti-heroes, who won't play by the rules or let concepts like "honor" or "mercy" get in their way. Corso isn't fully a villain from the start, but his proximity with the grand players in a Satanic trans-Atlantic scavenger hunt starts dragging him even lower into an abyss of his own making.
Recommended for: Fans of a occult mystery that revels in its native style as a pulp detective story with familiar plot points. The Ninth Gate may not entice audiences with an original plot or presentation, but its echoes of other Polanski classics and the like--plus a gorgeous musical score--make it an enjoyable dalliance on the dark side.
Polanski's The Ninth Gate seems to exist on two different wavelengths. On one hand, it feels like a familiar romp in occult thriller fare, with a plot that has double-crosses, secret societies of depraved millionaires who meet at a mansion right out of Eyes Wide Shut, and cryptic murders here and there that Corso always just happens to stumble upon first. On the other hand, there is a dreamlike quality to it that defies traditional logic. This is accented by an opulent and lovely musical score by Wojciech Kilar, which stands out as something special in The Ninth Gate. There is a lot of talk about rare book collections valued in the millions all throughout this film--enough to make speculators start drooling at the possibility of making it big on dusty first editions. Of course this feels a bit implausible, but it sets the stage for what kind of world Corso operates in, and also why his con for a collection of original editions of Don Quixote establishes him both as an opportunistic wolf and a savvy pro who always lands on top. Lots of event may get repeated, and weren't that original in the first place. (Seriously, how many times does Corso get conked on the head and knocked into unconsciousness?) But The Ninth Gate retains a kind of sleazy charm that comes from its brand of source material, where cliches aren't so much a flaw as they are a part of the formula that makes them popular. Corso--whose name means "run"--spends most of the film chasing after clues to solve a great mystery. Sure, Balkan's going to give him plenty of "hazard pay", but there is a sense that Corso needs this kind of thrill to give his life purpose...and sometimes, so does the audience. There's a certain charm to anti-heroes, who won't play by the rules or let concepts like "honor" or "mercy" get in their way. Corso isn't fully a villain from the start, but his proximity with the grand players in a Satanic trans-Atlantic scavenger hunt starts dragging him even lower into an abyss of his own making.
Recommended for: Fans of a occult mystery that revels in its native style as a pulp detective story with familiar plot points. The Ninth Gate may not entice audiences with an original plot or presentation, but its echoes of other Polanski classics and the like--plus a gorgeous musical score--make it an enjoyable dalliance on the dark side.