"Ghostwritten" - Film Review
“Stories make sense of existence. So how valuable can a story be?” asks the opening narration of Ghostwritten. For those who have dedicated their lives to the art of storytelling, its power is always front of mind. A single story has the ability to provide meaning for millions of people, but what do you do when you put pen to paper and no words come out? Such is the conundrum that falls upon Guy Laury (Jay Duplass). He’s a writer who’s coasting off the success of his first book, which was released many years ago. With his mom in assisted living and the money in his bank account dwindling, Guy needs to write another book. He accepts a residency on a secluded island with strange, too-friendly residents. It’s there that he finds an unpublished manuscript that seems to have ties to an unsolved murder case.
Ghostwritten excels in its ability to immerse the audience in Guy’s brain. It’s not exactly a fun place to be, because he’s stressed, anxious, and frustrated about his current predicament. It’s hard to tell what’s real and what exists solely in Guy’s brain. His fragile state of mind has him believing that the house he’s staying in is haunted, but maybe it’s not so far-fetched to believe that something bad happened there years ago. The film’s title works both in reference to the writing practice of ghost writers, but also speaks to the haunted feeling that there’s unfinished business following Guy around. Is that business his unfinished novel or a greater mystery about the island home he’s staying in? Are the two more connected than he initially believes?
Ghostwritten is a multi-layered feast of auditory and visual textures. The film jumps between black and white and color throughout. At times the picture is distorted with the fuzziness of an old VHS tape. At others, it’s crystal clear. Ghostwritten moves purposefully between these mediums, although it may take a few watches to find the reason behind the shifts. The film’s sound design is also a character of its own. There is consistent narration throughout, but who it belongs to is kept hidden until the end. Jarring clashes and clamors add to the ambiance of horror and remind audiences that they can’t trust everything they’ve seen.
The events of the film are not presented in a linear, easy-to-follow fashion. The main story is convoluted and interspersed with strange talk show interviews about demonic possession. If the viewer isn’t fully tuned in, the film can feel disjointed, as though the sum of the parts doesn’t equal a whole that makes sense. It’s a problem that arises in many horror and psychological films, where scenes and shocking moments are added simply to bewilder. It’s pleasantly surprising that Ghostwritten takes these strange deviations and gives them purpose in the larger scheme of things.
Ghostwritten preys on the fear that creativity is finite. That Guy does not have another story in him, and his life’s work is boiled down to one novel. That worry is not unique to Guy. Anyone who’s made a piece of art wonders if inspiration will strike again. And the longer it takes, the more desperation seeps in. Ghostwritten is a Faustian horror story about the lengths a human will go to in order to be remembered.
Follow me on Twitter, Instagram, Letterboxd, and YouTube.