The Ninth Gate (France/ Spain/ USA, 1999)
Directed by Roman Polanski
Starring Johnny Depp, Lena Olin , Frank Langella, Emmanuelle Seigner

With the notable exception of Se7en, numerical horror-thrillers are utter rubbish. With their ridiculous twists, over-the-top acting and an overreliance on special effects, they epitomise all that is banal and disappointing about these two genres. You would think that Roman Polanski, the man who gave us Repulsion and Rosemary's Baby, would be able to handle such well-worn material in at least a workable manner. But instead we end up with a ripe old stinker every bit as disappointing as Prince of Darkness.Polanski has always been a fan of absurdist, quirky comedy, being greatly influenced by France's crown prince of absurdity, Eugene Ionesco. While absurdity in and of itself is no bad thing, Polanski has always been at his best when this aspect of his sensibility has been minimised, or at least properly accommodated. You have to admire him for being able to switch between bleak, serious works like Tess and The Pianist, and something more fun and frothy like Frantic. But his out-and-out exercises in comedy have dated very badly, with What? being the worst example.Further doubts are raised by Polanski's attitude towards the source material. When interviewed in 1999 he said that he didn't believe in the supernatural - something you would never have guessed from Rosemary's Baby. He was drawn to the novel El Club Dumas by Arturo Pérez-Reverte because it was an opportunity to play with the clichés of a genre that he enjoyed. The consequence is that we aren't sure how seriously Polanski is taking things, and therefore how seriously we should be taking him.The Ninth Gate starts off quite atmospherically, with good pacing, dusty books and nice gothic colours. Film noir touches are evident throughout, from the archetype of the downbeat detective (or "book detective" in this case) to the enigmatic women in his life. Like so many noirs or Hitchcock films, the blond is enigmatic but for the most part on the hero's side, while the brunette is seductive and passionate to the point of being pure evil.Having set things up quite nicely in the first ten minutes, The Ninth Gate starts to crumble as more and more ridiculous elements encroach. We might swallow the story about the three copies of The Nine Gates, if only because Frank Langella sounds authoritative as he wades through exposition. But subsequent developments are so clouded or convoluted that we quickly give up trying to figure it all out, insofar as there is anything to figure out. It feels like the sort of thing that Polanski could have done in his sleep - and for much of the film, he might as well have done.All the big plot points in The Ninth Gate can be anticipated because they borrow all too heavily from better genre efforts. Having Dean Corso commissioned to search for The Nine Gates is exactly the same set-up as Angel Heart, but with a book instead of a jazz musician. His infiltration of a secret ceremony is lifted from The Wicker Man, and the mansion scenes strongly resemble Eyes Wide Shut, although this may be coincidental. There are also very standard references to The Omen in the use of 666, for instance, The NINE Gates being published in 1666. There is even a nod to An American Werewolf in London, as Corso arrives at the castle in a truck full of sheep.Having given up on taking The Ninth Gate seriously, the next logical step is to try and enjoy it as a comedy, perhaps as an unintentional one. But the comedic elements are so completely at odds with Polanski's execution of the twists that they feel like they have escaped from a different film. The twin brothers, who are played by the same actor via split screen, bumble their way through their lines like a cross between Thomson and Thompson from Tintin and Alf Garnett in Till Death Us Do Part.The silliness of the supporting characters increases as the film moves on. Baroness Kessler, played by Barbara Jefford, is introduced as a formidable character of real threat to Dean Corso - who then slips almost immediately into pantomime villain mode when we discover that she only has one hand. Corso later finds her slumped in her motorised wheelchair having been strangled: he turns the wheelchair around, only for her to go careering through the double doors, like Mason Verger's death in Hannibal two years later.Like many numerical thrillers, The Ninth Gate suffers from dodgy special effects. It's hardly a dull car crash like End of Days, in which Gabriel Byrne demonstrates his demonic power by blowing everything up, and Arnold Schwarzenegger try to stop him with a grenade launcher. But alongside bad continuity and an unconvincingly burnt book, there are at least two examples of dodgy wire work, in which Emmanuelle Seigner floats down into a scene, without any prior clue that she could fly.The Ninth Gate is littered with irritating plot holes which leaving us scratching our heads even in the moments when generic convention could fill in the gaps. There is no explanation of the serpent tattoo on the brunette's back, nor of Boris Balkan's ability to know exactly where Corso is at any one time - which is, conveniently, always within reach of a phone. But more annoying than either of these is Polanski's contempt for the subject matter. It's hard to believe that either Corso or Balkan know or care so much about rare tomes when they treat them so carelessly. They don't bother to handle them with gloves, flip through ancient pages like they were airport paperbacks and carry them around in scruffy bags which get flung everywhere.This care-free attitude spills over into the performances. Johnny Depp had wanted to work with Polanski for some time, but Polanski didn't tell him that he wasn't giving the performance that he wanted - in other words, he was almost completely undirected in the role. To be fair to Depp, he gets the physical stuff right, modelling himself on Raymond Chandler and being more convincing than he is in Secret Window. But otherwise it's pretty phoned-in, with Polanski being unable or unwilling to tease out the greatness that Tim Burton or Terry Gilliam had managed.Frank Langella is no stranger to trashy villains, having played Skeletor in the awful He-Man movie, Masters of the Universe. He does the best with a surprisingly underwritten role, looking a little bit like Michael Redgrave in The Dambusters. Lena Orin has far too little to do beyond flashing her stocking tops in the first half-hour and then dressing up like the actress from Scottish Widows for the satanic ceremony. As for Seigner, she does a good demon stare, but otherwise she's too airy-fairy, wafting through the scenery as if she doesn't really care who she's playing or what she's doing. In any case, it's essentially the same character she plays in Frantic - the quirky outsider who helps the male protagonist, only this time she's the devil as well.The final nail in The Ninth Gate's coffin comes with its ending, which is hopelessly dragged out and completely incoherent. We get to see Langella self-immolate and fail to pass through the Ninth Gate - but that's not the end. Seigner makes love to Depp against the flames with her demon eyes, the camera zooms in on Depp as if he realises who she is all along, and he seems about to scream - but that's not the end. After the two drive back, and Seigner remarks "is that it?" (to which the answer is "no"), Depp goes back to the bookshop and finds the missing page - but that's not the end. Depp then goes back to the castle and the screen fades to white, in one of the most shambolic and unsatisfying endings in 1990s cinema.The Ninth Gate is an example of what happens when a great director indulges themself to the extent that they no longer feel the need to try. As an exercise in supernatural horror it is every bit as rubbish as Prince of Darkness: Polanski's film looks better, but Carpenter's was shorter. In attempting to put his stamp on overly familiar elements, Polanski fails to deliver chills, thrills or knowing laughs. Thank God that he redeemed himself beyond all recognition just three short years later.

Rating:
Verdict: One of Polanski's few bad films

The Adjustment Bureau (USA, 2011)
Directed by George Nolfi
Starring Matt Damon, Emily Blunt, Anthony Mackie, John Slattery

When Ridley Scott showed him the rough cut of Blade Runner just months before he died, Philip K. Dick is said to have remarked: "it is as though you looked inside my head." But not all adaptations of Dick's work have been quite so ecstatically received. For all the ones that have worked (Total Recall, Minority Report, A Scanner Darkly), there have been at least as many that ditched the more thoughtful aspects of Dick's work in favour of chasing and explosions. Adding to Paycheck and Next, we now have The Adjustment Bureau, which could be the biggest let-down of the year.It's not as though The Adjustment Bureau doesn't have talent behind it. Emily Blunt has demonstrated her dramatic chops in My Summer of Love and The Young Victoria, while Matt Damon is fast becoming one of the most reliable screen actors of our time. George Nolfi, who wrote and directed the film, worked as a co-writer on The Bourne Ultimatum, which remains Paul Greengrass' best work. And it is shot by John Toll, who won back-to-back Oscars for his work on Legends of the Fall and Braveheart.With these credentials it would be tempting to brand The Adjustment Bureau as 'Bourne-lite' - or maybe 'Inception-lite' due to its science fiction trappings. But to do this would be a great disservice to both films, since The Adjustment Bureau has neither the intellectual rigour nor the heart-stopping, emotional action of these films. In fact, it is everything that those films weren't: flimsily constructed, loosely written, glossy-looking for its own sake and with underdeveloped ideas.What made the later Bourne films so fantastic was the ability of Paul Greengrass to marry the aggressive, hand-held action sequences to believable character drama. The Bourne Ultimatum balanced this perfectly, with none of Jason Bourne's personal quandaries getting lost in or watered down by the spectacular action. Looking at Nolfi's film from a writing point of view, you'd swear that he had written the chase scenes and let Greengrass do the rest. He does not have the skill to marry action and ideas together, creating a film which is at best silly and at worst completely shallow.The Adjustment Bureau is essentially a perfectly decent, if unremarkable, romantic comedy surrounded by increasingly preposterous elements of science fiction. The central relationship between David and Elise does have a genuine spark about it: the romantic dialogue in Nolfi's screenplay is too witty to have been written by a committee, and both characters feel like rounded human beings with believable jobs and lifestyles. We enjoy the company of Damon and Blunt because their emotional responses seem believable, increasingly a rarity in Hollywood rom-coms.Normally, this kind of frothy concoction would do absolutely fine. But the science fiction elements, which provide the backdrop and keep breaking into the plot, cause the more contrived moments in the relationship to become magnified. Having David give up on Elise, only to have him realise he loves her and run across a city to find her, would work perfectly well on its own. But when you have David running across the city through secret doors, which he can only pass through while wearing a trilby, it very quickly becomes ludicrous, like a bad mash-up of The Graduate and Tron.The Adjustment Bureau does attempt to raise a number of interesting questions about fate, chance and free will, subjects which are staples not only of science fiction but of Dick's work in particular. At the centre of the film is a discussion about whether human beings are free to choose how they live their lives, or whether we are simply actors reading lines off a script which has already been written (and re-written). The film strikes an interesting balance between the two, saying that while humanity's behaviour is constantly 'adjusted', it is not possible for the Bureau to be everywhere at once or stop every bad thing from happening. They even go so far as to admit that certain things are entirely down to chance, although it isn't specified where exactly the lines are drawn.The film does a pretty good job of demonstrating the cost of free will - or, from the Bureau's point of view, the advantages of intervention. Terence Stamp's character delivers a speech similar to Al Pacino's in The Devil's Advocate, about how Mankind has taken itself to the brink whenever 'the Chairman' has taken a hands-off approach (for instance, the Dark Ages and the Cold War). The film retunes Dick's paranoia surrounding big corporations (and Hollywood) to a more abstract moral dilemma, in which the Chairman is God and his hatted assistants are interceding angels, keeping Humanity on the straight and narrow at the cost of there being no genuine free will.The Adjustment Bureau attempts to retune this concept further to look at the course of true love. The central relationship, between a congressman and a ballerina, follows the trajectory of most American rom-coms: all sorts of obstacles are created to push them apart, but we always know that they will somehow end up together. The Adjustment Bureau doesn't deviate from this mould, but what it does do is offer a twist on why such obstacles occur. Rather than being the result of personal attitudes or quirkiness, the obstacles faced by Damon and Blunt are created by the powers-that-be, whether God or - to go all Pirandello for a second - the writers themselves.Unfortunately, there are two gigantic problems with the manner in which The Adjustment Bureau tackles these ideas. The first is that it is very literal-minded, and fails to bring out the moral dilemmas without resorting to blatant plot exposition. Terrence Stamp's character is effectively Basil Exposition in a sharp suit, as though Nolfi thought Stamp was too old to be running around Chicago, telling him to stay in the warehouse and talk to his heart's content.Alfred Hitchcock once said that exposition is a pill which must be sugar-coated if the audience is to remain in suspense. If North by Northwest is the epitome of sugar-coating, then The Adjustment Bureau is like a series of big and bitter pills. Whereas Inception introduced the mechanics of the dream-state incrementally, this handles its mechanics like someone repeatedly dropping a sledgehammer. It never has the confidence or foresight to outline exactly how much of what we see is adjusted, and the conversations about the plans are shoved down the audience's throats.The second big problem with the films is that it dodges all the big moral questions that follow from its intriguing set-up. Not only does it gloss over where the battle lines are drawn, but its payoff feels far too easy. The lengthy chase sequences in the final act are an excuse to canter through the character development when it really matters, and the rooftop scene finds the script skimming over the philosophical implications of the plan 'being changed'. In its naked pursuit of a happy, feel-good ending, The Adjustment Bureau produces the exact opposite emotional response.The visuals of The Adjustment Bureau are also guilty of being shallow. John Toll may be a great cinematographer, but under Nolfi's instructions everything is far too glossy: the overabundance of shiny blues and metallic greys make everything look like a shaving advert, or one of George Clooney's coffee commercials. The chase sequences are a blatant excuse to get the ol' green screen out, making the action seem even less physical or believable. At every possible turn there is a pursuit of style over content, and speed over intelligence.The Adjustment Bureau is a deeply disappointing film which lacks the depth, nuance or subtlety of the best Philip K. Dick adaptations. In Nolfi's hands what could be a potentially interesting sci-fi romance becomes something flimsy, frothy and ultimately too ridiculous. I would be lying if I said I didn't laugh, either mockingly at the film or out of charm at the central couple. But laughter isn't enough to do justice, either to Dick's material or to the central relationship, resulting in a case of squandered potential that could have been so much more.

Rating:
Verdict: Flimsy, frothy and far too ridiculous

This is a revised and rewritten version of my Inception review first published August 19th 2010. The original review can be found here: http://threemenonablog.blogspot.com/2010/08/film-review-inception-2010.html

Inception (USA, 2010)
Directed by Christopher Nolan
Starring Leonardo DiCaprio, Joseph Gordon-Levitt, Ken Watanabe, Cillian Murphy

Most of us have at least one film which we can watch over and over without necessarily getting anything new out of it. But there is a small number of truly magnificent films which keep rewarding us, intellectually and viscerally, even when there is no need for the gift to keep on giving. Inception is a worthy member of this club, sharing pride of place with A Clockwork Orange, Mulholland Drive and - dare I say it - Blade Runner. Every new viewing opens up new theories and interpretations, while confirming its status as the best film of 2010 and of Christopher Nolan's career.A lot has been written about the reputation of Inception as a 'smart blockbuster' which proves that audiences aren't stupid and lays down the gauntlet for the rest of the film industry. While all of this is completely true, it has been said so often that people have been led to doubt whether the film has anything of offer beyond what it represents: in other words, is it meant to be admired rather than enjoyed. Make no mistake: Inception is a smart blockbuster, but in order to appreciate it we have to look beyond its possible implications for the industry, at least for the moment.Inception is the culmination of Nolan's career, at least up to now. It shares a number of qualities with his previous efforts while having its own identity, like a series of jewels that have been waiting ten years for a crown. There is the deceptive chronology of Memento and The Prestige, used to make you question everything you have seen and distrust the editing over where stories begin and end. There is the nail-biting action of the Batman films, with real characters exploring ideas and experiencing pain in the midst of outstanding special effects. And there is the genre integrity of Following and Insomnia, creating in this case a film which follows heist film conventions without being in any way limited by them.All of these elements are woven together by Nolan's constant pursuit of verisimilitude, the art of finding reality and believability in the most fantastical of stories and concepts. Rather than go down the surrealistic route, filling the heist with scenes from Eraserhead or Un Chien Andalou, Nolan creates a hyper-stylised world which is so akin to our own that his artistic flourishes feel all the more surprising. His use of organic, physical effects wherever possible confirms his desire to keep us rooted in reality even as the world around us becomes extraordinary. The story introduces the mechanics of dreaming incrementally, so the film never grinds to a halt for plot exposition or loses its way by twisting too much at once.At its most superficial (if such a word is appropriate), Inception is about the nature of dreams and dreaming. In previous films which have explored dreaming, particularly as part of a thriller storyline, the boundary between dreams and reality has been all too obvious. Think, for instance, of Alfred Hitchcock's Spellbound, whose dream sequence directed by Salvador Dali is in stark contrast to the rest of the film.Inception corrects this, blurring the lines so seamlessly that we quickly understand the danger the characters are facing - both in failing their mission and in losing themselves to their own sub-consciences. During her training, Cobb warns Ariadne not to base a dream's architecture on real life, because that is the easiest way to lose your bearings and perhaps even end up like Mal. The feeling of getting lost is reflected in our experience as an audience: the film is constantly asking us to keep up, and there are only so many points where we can rely on totems or editing to tell us where we are. But as with Mulholland Drive, feeling lost is not only fun, it enhances the experience, making the dream-state all the more believable, threatening and fascinating.Like all great heist films, Inception is not really about the job itself. Nor, indeed, is it entirely or primarily about the nature of dreaming. The mechanics of dreaming, involving inception and extraction, heavy sedations and multiple dreams-within-dreams, are there to serve the plot by putting an enticing twist on the conventions of the heist film. But they also provide an introduction to a host of other interesting themes and ideas, each as enticing and multi-layered as the dreams in which they appear.One of Inception's biggest themes is identity, namely the ability in the dream world to be whoever you want, potentially forever. Like Mulholland Drive before it, it examines the idea of characters creating whole worlds or lives for themselves within a dream or fantasy. In this case the dreams can be designed and engineered to such a degree that reality becomes unnecessary: characters spend so long in dreams that reality seems like a pale imitation of the world which offers them everything they need.The one factor connecting all the members of Cobb's team is that their abilities and worth are enhanced by being in the dream. In reality, Eames is flippant, soft-headed and can't hold onto his money; in the dream he is brilliant, impersonating people and garnering information with ease. Arthur begins as a "stick in the mud" with no imagination, but in the dream he gains the imagination needed to bring the team home. Cobb is the exception to this rule: haunted by guilt, any potential enhancement in the dream in cancelled out or undermined by his troubled, unrestrained psyche.There is a counterpoint in the characters between Mal and Ariadne, played with superb skill by Marion Cotillard and Ellen Page. Both are to some extent experiments of Cobb: he trials inception on Mal, in a move which produces the impossible (inception) at the cost of creating the unbearable (her death). Ariadne represents Cobb trying to avoid his past mistakes, revisiting the impossible for the sake of catharsis. His relationship with Ariadne is sensitive because she sees through him, providing his salvation from the dream while giving him the chance to atone for Mal's death.When Darren Aronofsky made Requiem for a Dream, he commented that it was not so much a film about drugs as about addictive impulses - what constitutes or defines a drug, and therefore what makes a drug addict. So much of Inception is about addiction, with the characters being sedated to experience dreaming and their dreams being a pursuit of the high that is unlimited creativity.As with Aronofsky's work, Inception contrasts the limitless possibilities of the characters' fantasies with the threatened or actual destruction of their lives, minds and memories. Cobb was drawn to extraction by the ability to design whole new cities which could never exist, and when Ariadne runs away he remarks that "reality won't be enough for her anymore". But these optimistic sections are given perspective by the revelation that Cobb can no longer dream of his own accord. The chilling scene in the Mombasa basement hints at what he threatens to become if he does not restore his grip on reality and work for something more than the selfish high of extraction or inception.The performances in Inception are magnificent across the board. Leonardo DiCaprio has been working hard to cast off the pretty boy image of his early career, and in this case he manages it, turning in his most layered and accomplished performance to date. Cillian Murphy has an intriguing fractured quality to his performance which brings subtlety to his relationships with the other characters. And Tom Hardy is outstanding as Eames, providing much of the light relief as the world falls apart around him.Inception is a mesmerising masterpiece which improves with every viewing. Its mind-blowing, hyper-tense action sequences are perfectly complimented by its multi-layered examination of dreaming, addiction, catharsis and identity. It is visually superb thanks to Wally Pfister's outstanding cinematography, and Hans Zimmer's unusual score is nothing short of breathtaking. But at the centre of everything is Christopher Nolan, possibly Britain's greatest living director, who has delivered a film which is not only smart, but utterly flawless.

Rating:
Verdict: The best film of 2010

Witness (USA, 1985)
Directed by Peter Weir
Starring Harrison Ford, Kelly McGillis, Lukas Haas, Danny Glover

In recent years the thriller genre has become so closely hybridised with action that we expect almost every thriller to be high-octane, ass-kicking entertainment. Whether it's the ultra-macho shootout in Michael Mann's Heat or the second unit work on the Bourne series, when we heard the word 'thriller' we expect everything to be turned up to 11, and if it doesn't feel ridiculous then we haven't got our money's worth.

But the thriller genre is a malleable beast, and there is potential even in the most aggressive and edgy storylines for understated character development and old-fashioned, slow-burning suspense. Witness is a film which demonstrates this with energy and intelligence to spare, and it remains one of Peter Weir's finest films.Over a career lasting over 35 years, Weir has earned himself a reputation as a meticulous craftsman of the cinema. Like Stanley Kubrick he has rarely, if ever, approached the same subject or period twice, and what unites all his works is the impeccable level of craft that goes into making them. You really get the sense watching Witness that this was a labour of love for the director, something he cared about very closely. Considering that he only came to make it after funding for The Mosquito Coast fell through, it is testament to his ability and determination that he didn't simply soft-peddle to get it over with.Witness is a film which showcases Weir's mastery as a storyteller. The thriller elements are introduced seamlessly and convincingly, but they never become so complicated that they overwhelm the human story at the centre. The narcotics plot point is brought in so that it makes sense for McFee to have done what he did, and the conspiracy elements involving police corruption are introduced in a matter-of-fact manner. The film never feels the need to get bogged down in procedure, because Weir knows that the real intrigue lies in the innocent people caught up in the web rather than the structure of the web itself.Weir directs the film in an unusually painterly way, with long wide takes which capture the slow pace of Amish life. Much like Barry Lyndon, we are forced to slow down and accept the often languorous pace at which events unfold, so that it doesn't feel like the lives of the characters are being crowbarred into a generic plot. This is story-telling rather than plot-handling, and like all good storytellers Weir both takes his time and knows when he has overstayed his welcome; despite the leisurely pace, it doesn't feel like a two-hour film.Further evidence of Weir putting characters and story before the demands of a genre are found in the treatment of the culture clash. It would be very easy for Witness to fall into the trap of A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court, by having Harrison Ford constantly commenting in the differences in cultures for ill-founded comic effect. Alternatively it could have gone down the route of A Stranger Among Us, Sidney Lumet's misguided thriller in which Melanie Griffith tracks down a murderer by pretending to be Jewish, adopting every conceivable stereotype in a bid to blend in.While its depiction of the Amish lifestyle may not be entirely accurate, it is respectful and very even-handed towards both sides. The film is not looking to portray them as sheltered fundamentalists who are entirely backward or too naïve to function as human beings. But neither does Witness shy away from pointing out the flaws with the Amish religion, or at least demonstrating the downsides to such a particular way of life. The society in which Rachel raises Samuel is very patriarchal, with a man's worth being judged by his capacity for hard work, and there is frequent talk in the latter parts of "shunning" and the dire consequences of this. The film utilises the Amish language (either High German or Pennsylvania Dutch) as an alienating device, much like Alfred Hitchcock did in The Lady Vanishes.

The title of Witness reflects the film's balance and contrast between the spiritual and the temporal, referring to both the act of bearing witness to God's work and testifying in a criminal court. Harrison Ford's character is called John Book - an inversion of the Book of John, also known as John's Gospel. In protecting Samuel from the police who wish to silence him, Book is bearing witness both by observing God's work through the Amish and by doing God's duty in protecting those who cannot protect themselves.Witness approaches spirituality in a mature and considered fashion which is unusually nuanced for Hollywood. You won't find any fire-and-brimstone preachers in this neck of the woods, let alone any of the hysterical wailing present in Carrie. Most of the religious scenes in the film revolve around quiet devotion and the silence of saying one's prayers, and even when things get rather Old Testament, the points aren't hammered home with un-Christian relish.This subtle examination of spirituality allows an accompanying theme to be approached with equal reserve and intelligence. For Witness is also about the limits of authority, whether the police or outsiders who think they can make the rules because they carry guns. Being the only man with a gun for many miles, you would think Book would quickly impose himself on the community - but instead he is forced to obey the rules and turn in his weapon. This is further reflected in the passive resistance of the Amish when they are threatened by Book's superior - a scene which shows that authority comes not merely from power, but respect and acceptance.The Biblical elements of Witness also emerge in the theme of forbidden fruit and the repression of Rachel's sexuality. Kelly McGillis has a recurring trait to her performance, giving a slight smile whenever she glances at Book. This slight smile reflects her inability to open up and acknowledge her womanhood at the cost of her faith. Her passionate kiss with Book in the field is counterpointed by an earlier scene where Book catches her bathing: minutes pass with the characters just looking at each other, both fearful of the consequences of giving in to temptation.Much of the film is about the loss of innocence, whether in Samuel witnessing the murder, Rachel's love for John, or the community being shaken by John's presence and his misguided attempts at delivering justice through violence. After he beats up a group of tourists who were mocking the Amish, one of the elderly locals tells Rachel to rein him in, saying he is "not good for the tourist trade!". The loss of innocence is further reflected in Book's colleagues, who have drifted into narcotics by spending too long on the beat. There are hints of The French Connection about Paul, who like Gene Hackman has become more impulsive and reckless in pursing what he wants.Witness also has a beautifully understated soundtrack. Maurice Jarre, who won a BAFTA for his work, creates a score with the epic sweep of his work with David Lean but with modern trappings courtesy of Vangelis-like synthesisers. There is a recurring theme of one ethereal note being sustained during moments of revelation, such as Samuel recognising McFee from the photo in the trophy cabinet. It's a very effective means of bringing together the old and the new in the story.Witness is a great film and a great piece of storytelling. Harrison Ford is terrific as John Book, bringing understatement and gravitas to a role which demonstrates his talent and range as an actor. McGillis is a great match as Rachel, and Danny Glover is as menacing here as he is in The Colour Purple. It isn't perfect, being a little too slow at times, and the final confrontation between John and Paul threatens to become silly. But it remains one of Peter Weir's finest achievements and proof that thrills don't always have to come from shouting and rapid editing.

Rating:
Verdict: Smart, slow-burning and spiritually insightful