When you look at the early career of director Roman Polanski, you're likely to be struck with awe. This is, after all, the man who gave us some of cinema's classics: Repulsion, Rosemary's Baby, Chinatown, Tess. In later years, though, his work has been competent, but not quite as spectacular. With The Ninth Gate, Polanski shows us that he's still got his director's chops -- to some extent. This is a supremely intelligent movie, which, despite its languid quality, draws you into a sinister world of demonic lore. Sadly, it's the veiled ending that ruins this film completely.

Based on the fascinating book The Club Dumas by Arturo Perez-Reverte, The Ninth Gate introduces us to amoral Dean Corso (Johnny Depp), book "detective" extraordinaire who will go to almost any lengths for his wealthy clients. As Boris Balkan (Frank Langella), a collector of Satanic literature, says, "There's nothing more reliable than a man whose loyalty can be bought for hard cash." He counts on this when offering Corso a job. The assignment is simple. Balkan owns one of three copies of "The Nine Gates of The Kingdom of Shadows", a 16th century book reputedly written by a disciple of Satan. Balkan believes that only one of the copies is real and he's willing to pay handsomely for Corso to figure out which one it is. Corso, ever the mercenary, hears dollar signs and readily accepts.

His first stop is to see Liana Tefler (Lena Olin), the sensual widow of the former owner of Balkan's copy. After a romantic tryst (it's a Polanski film -- there's always sex), Liana attacks Corso, demanding that he give her the book. Clearly, the lady means business, but this only inflates Corso's curiosity. He has something of the detective's instinct in him and he can't help but be lured into the mystery of this book, which is said to be the gateway to conjuring the Dark Lord himself. So, it's off to Europe to meet the other owners of the books and to examine their copies.

On his journey, he finds himself being followed by a mysterious Lady (Emmanuelle Seigner), who always seems to appear when he needs her most. Whether she is Corso's guardian angel or a denizen of Hell itself is never clear and this ellipsis, among others, is more than a little frustrating. As Corso gets closer to the answers he seeks, he starts to find his life in constant jeopardy. This scares him off at first, but the mystery keeps luring him back. Like the hero in Angel Heart, Corso is seduced by darkness until there is no escaping it. Indeed, there are a number of similarities here to the Alan Parker's charged film, but where that movie concluded with a gut-wrenching reveal, The Ninth Gate leaves you hanging. Clearly, Polanski wants his audience to be kept off center, but there are levels to this sort of ruse. In this case, the choice (which differs from the ending in the book) comes off as lazy and almost insulting. Worse yet, it suggests that Polanski had no idea how to sum up the film.

If you are a true Polanski fan, there is still much to appreciate here. The film is stylistically handsome, much of it shot in Europe, and the mood is carefully maintained, avoiding the standard assortment of special effects to which most horror films cater. Depp's performance is solid as usual, capturing a man driven by a force he can't control. Refreshing as well is the sophistication of the script, which contrasts mightily with the intellectual inanity of other recent demonic flicks like End of Days.

It remains, however, that these elements aren't enough to salvage a film that teases its audience for two hours only to thumb its nose at them in the end. Surely, after such a mysterious journey, the least one can hope for is some sort of tangible pay-off. But that pay-off never comes. The experience could best be summed up thus: Watching The Ninth Gate is like driving to Disneyland and finding out the park is closed.