Inside (2023) is a psychological thriller written by Ben Hopkins, directed by Vasilis Katsoupis, with Steve Annis as the lead cinematographer. Inside follows the trail of Nemo (Willem Dafoe), a veteran art thief that is trapped in a luxurious New York penthouse after a failed art heist. Nemo has to use his cunning and ingenuity to escape this confined prison.
The film opens with Nemo recalling his memory of a prompt posed to him by one of his past teachers "What I would save from my house if it were on fire?". Nemo responds "My sketchbook, my ACDC album, and my cat Groucho". Nemo adds that he didn't include his parents or his sister, a concerning hint of his disparity toward human connection. Nemo cherishes his sketchbook dearly and uses it throughout the film as a conduit for cathartic release. Nemo places the value of art above all else.
"Cats die, music fades, but art is for keeps", this quote encapsulates one of the most prominent messages of the film, the significance of art and how art is intrinsically linked to the human soul. Life is ephemeral whereas art remains permanent. Nemo finds greater meaning in the monetary value of the art he steals and sells, than investing time and energy into emotional connections with others. Nemo's isolated state in his own life reflects the solitary confinement he finds himself trapped in. A fitting metaphor which paints his vice as a figurative and now physical prison.
Nemo has an almost unhealthy obsession over art. Nemo has a vivid dream of attending an exclusive high art exhibition, being accepted by prolific members of the art community, and being acknowledged by an attractive young woman. Nemo yearns for recognition and inclusivity in the upper echelons of the esteemed art community. Nemo was most likely an unsuccessful artist in the past that chased these dreams of grandeur but ultimately failed. So now he robs other talented artists of their prized creations to relive those rewarding moments of satisfaction that one receives when creating art. Nemo is bitter and envious of the success of these proclaimed artists and seeks to level the playing field so to speak.
Inside is filled with authentic artwork from contemporary artists, all of which symbolise integral themes of the film. Francesco Clemente's 'After and Before' (2021) watercolour painting represents "a psychological portrait of the impossibility of reaching something that is unreachable" states Leonardo Bigazzi; the art curator that created the collections of art for the film. Nemo also attempts to reach the unreachable, the air vent on the ceiling of the penthouse. Nemo creates a jumbled amalgamation of furniture, installations, and art pieces as a dire attempt at escape. Nemo's towering sculpture looks like a staircase to heaven, his one and only escape route to reach the outside world, find peace, and perhaps seek intimacy.
Another significant piece is Brenda Beban's 'I can't make you love me' (2003) which is an eight minute dual-screen video installation. This was an ode to Brenda Beban who passed away in 2012, who was also the lecturer and mentor of Kapoulis during his MFA in screen arts in England. The video installation is of a couple, portrayed on two screens in the exact same setting. The couple communicate about a love that cannot happen, perhaps because they don't coexist in the same cinematic space. That inability to connect is the same feeling that Nemo suffers from as he becomes more and more infatuated with the maid that he observes through the CCTV. Nemo peers in through the looking glass with intention for intimacy but falls short, even in his subconscious fantasy with the maid.
Annis' style of cinematography felt purposeful and structured. The content of each shot is minimalistic and meaningful. The movement of the camera feels like a static sentry, probably in a conscious effort to intensify the lonely, claustrophobic impression of the film. Annis utilises a multitude of tight ECU shots like the bead of sweat slowly running down the back of Nemo's neck, or the several static shots of art as focal points. Annis seemed to greatly favour the behind the head medium shots i.e. the shot of Nemo aggressively chipping into the front door with his knife. These shots imbue a sense of lingering and observance, it immerses the audience into the character's experience. Annis' slow dolly zooms on trivial objects enhances the intensity of anticipated moments, i.e. the wounded pigeon out in the rain or the painting of Nemo on the mural in Egon Schiele's bedroom. These drawn out zoom shots instil a sense of foreboding on whichever arbitrary object the camera decides to solely focus on, i.e. the fish in the aquarium foreshadows Nemo's eventual meal.
As the film progresses, Nemo's disposition and sanity degrades as each disheartening day passes. Nemo suffers from the extreme heat followed by freezing temperatures, then hunger and dehydration. Nemo's desperation for sustenance and hydration becomes greater and greater till Nemo is forced to eat the fish from the aquarium and suck the melted water from the ice trays in the freezer. Delirium then begins to set in as Nemo starts to feign reality. He hallucinates the owner of the penthouse in the bathroom mirror slam his head into the sink causing him to bleed. Nemo's gradual deterioration of his physical strength and mental faculties offers an unsettling experience for the audience as we see a man pushed to the brink of survival.
Nemo's permanent state of suffering reminds me of the ancient Greek myth of Tantalus. Tantalus was a mortal that was punished for killing his son and attempting to feed him to the Olympians. Tantalus is then banished to the Fields of Punishment for eternity, tormented by fruit that it forever out of reach and water that flees from his lips. Nemo is tortured by the sight of the injured pigeon that resides on the other side of the thick glass windows. As Nemo's hunger becomes increasingly dire, his threshold for sustenance becomes desperate.
Amidst Nemo's perpetual state of suffering and hazy fog of hallucinations and fantasies, there are very real moments of joyous ecstasy, for both Nemo and the audience. Nemo is overcome with elation once he suddenly sees that the timed irrigation sprinklers for the plants begin to go off. Nemo happily collapses in the soil on his back, covered in water, wearing a satisfied smile, and an eased facial expression. There is a fleeting moment of relief for the audience that breaks up the intense feelings of uneasiness and trepidation.
Inside had an intriguing premise that I was extremely eager to watch the film since I saw the trailer. The secluded location, isolated quarters, and minimal cast teased a similar cinematic experience to Robert Egger's The Lighthouse (2019). Personally, I felt slightly underwhelmed. Perhaps I drew too much anticipation from my experience watching The Lighthouse and hyped up Inside too much. The thematic themes in the film came across too cryptic or complex for average cinemagoers to decipher. I found myself guessing a lot. There is a variety of uninterpreted scenic material that is up for speculation.
Dafoe's performance was undoubtably brilliant, the cinematography felt purposeful, the scores mirrored the mood presented in the scene, and the meta-commentary on art was masterfully done, with symbolism and allegory laden throughout the film.
For Katsoupis' directorial debut, I believe it is an impressive first step in the right direction. I feel like if there was some clarity (and more context into Nemo's background) in terms of the thematic backbone of the film it would have been received by viewers in a more positive light. I will keep an eye on Katsoupis' future directorial endeavors.
From Lucas Barker, BComm Minor in Media Studies, and an avid cinephile. 14/6/23
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