I can’t recall a film that has been so dissimilar to novel on which it was based.  In fact, there have been plenty of films that indicate that they were only “suggested by” a particular book.  Why that didn’t happen with The Ninth Gate, I’ll never know.  It’s all wrong – from the names of the characters to the story’s climax.  Setting, plot, identities – take your pick.  They’re all different.

Based on Arturo Pérez-Reverte’s snooty novel “El Club Dumas,” Gate is about a slimy, unscrupulous New York City book mercenary hired to locate extremely rare novels.  When you hear words like “slimy” and “unscrupulous,” Johnny Depp (Sleepy Hollow) should be the person furthest from your mind (while Christopher Walken should immediately pop into your head).  Nevertheless, Depp is cast here as Dean Corso (Lucas Corso in the book), who is hired by an even slimier character named Boris Balkan (Frank Langella, Lolita), a collector of all books demonic in nature.

Balkan has just acquired an exceptionally extraordinary book – a manual for summoning the devil called “The Book of the Nine Gates of the Kingdom of Shadows,” (it’s “Nine Doors” in the book, but that isn’t as exciting, I guess).  Reportedly, the book was a collaboration between author Aristide Torchia and Lucifer himself, using creepy woodcarvings from the previous demonic benchmark “Delomecanicon.”  When the book was printed in 1666, the Church flipped out and burned all of the copies along with its author.  Only three copies were said to have survived – Balkan’s and two owned by private European book collectors in Portugal and France.

In the book, Balkan is convinced that his copy is a forgery and enlists Corso to track down the other two copies in order to compare them to his own.  In the movie, Balkan hires Corso to acquire the others by any means necessary, in order to raise the Devil and pal around with him.  Corso reluctantly accepts the assignment from the obviously evil Balkan, and immediately heads for Portugal and kooky book collector Victor Fargas (Jack Taylor).  Of course, the book takes place in Europe, so Corso doesn’t have as far to travel.  The film replaces Balkan’s medieval home with a giant Manhattan skyscraper.  Why?  Because Langella can’t do accents.

During his journey, Corso seems to be one step ahead of death, as everyone he comes in contact with is bumped off.  He also acquires what appears to be some type of guardian angel (Emmanuelle Seigner), who continually leads Corso in the right direction in his hunt for both the novels and the truth behind their secrets.  Is she really an angel?  Is she the Devil?  These are the kind of questions that only get answered in decent films.

The big problem with this film adaptation is that half of the story is missing.  There is a whole “Three Musketeers” backdrop running throughout the novel that is completely eliminated from the film.  Corso’s character begins to live out the life of Dumas’ d’Artagnan, and there is much to-do about a handwritten forty-second chapter of the “Musketeers” called “The Anjou Wine” that Balkan acquired from a woman who was implied to be a Milady de Winter type (her character, played by Lena Olin, sports a different name, too).  There are accusations that Dumas used ghostwriters and collaborators when he penned the “Musketeer” stories.  Also, in the novel, Balkan was the narrator, and the evil Langella character was called Varo Borja.  The film simply made Borja into Balkan, and twisted Balkan into a peripheral character named Bernie (James Russo, The Postman).  When you only use half the story, the best you can get is half the film.

Gate is director Roman Polanski’s first film since 1994’s Death and the Maiden, which was light years better than this mess.  Even reliable cinematographer Darius Khondji (The Beach) contributes little to the picture.  If I had to pick a highlight, it would be Wojciech Kilar’s (The Truman Show and City of Angels) score.  The credits are horrendously long, and follow a suicide scene that has little to do with the story (it does in the book, but not the film).  The closing credits aren’t particularly offensive, but they still received an audible groan from the audience at my screening.  

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