Shutter Island (2010) and The Ghost Writer (2010)

Two mystery adaptations set on rain swept New England islands, supported by pathetic fallacy, directed by aging masters who have left their mark on the cinematic landscape, and nearly toppled by an Alexandre Desplat score? Hmm.

Depending on your point of view, Shutter Island will either make you think that Martin Scorsese's off his game or that he's exactly where he should be. I'm in the latter camp. His bombast is so dynamic and his vision so haunting that his experimentation with turning Dennis Lehane's pulp into a cross between a B-movie and a full-on psychological nightmare is easily forgivable (i.e., if it doesn't work for you).

Leonardo DiCaprio stars as a U.S. Marshal brought in to investigate a missing persons case at a facility for the criminally insane, only for his and partner Mark Ruffalo's questioning to bring them no closer to figuring out how Emily Mortimer could have "evaporated through the walls." DiCaprio's haunted by his time as a solider in WWII and the death of his wife (Michelle Williams), and the still-waking visions that plague him are as disturbing as the details of case that slowly reveal themselves.

Roman Polanski's The Ghost Writer is a far more current and political story, simultaneously smaller and grander in scale. Ewan McGregor's brought in as a ghost writer to finish former British PM Pierce Brosnan's memoirs after the last ghost and aide fails to get off the ferry one evening and washes up on shore three days later. Though McGregor initially sees his work as little more than turning something deadly boring into slightly more palatable prose for a handsome reward, the announcement that the Hague will investigate Brosnan for war crimes is enough to pique his interest to investigate his predecessor's sudden demise.

The Ghost Writer feels infinitely more claustrophobic, though no less isolated, than Shutter Island. The compound where the majority of the action takes place feels like just that, and Polanski fills each corner with tension. Seething resentments, recriminations, and resignation hang in the air. It's the best deployment of McGregor I've ever seen, and Olivia Williams stands out as femme fatale. Just switching to a red sweater is enough to make you nervous.

It's hard ignore the parallel between Polanski and Brosnan's Lang as men who take refuge in one country's refusal to extradite. Shutter Island may tell the more personal story, but it's The Ghost Writer that feels personal. Former, B+; latter, A-.