Watched in the cinema (37th visit in 2023)

To state the obvious: Yes, being locked in a flat with no chance of rescue or escape is a very shaky concept. But "Inside" manages quite well to avoid major gaps in logic. The fact that Nemo (Willem Dafoe) doesn't have a mobile phone with him and that there is apparently no landline in the flat through which he could call for help seems a bit contrived, but doesn't ruin the film at all. In general, there are small moments every now and then that seem somewhat implausible. However, these are usually so stringently established by the film as a given that the premise of the film works surprisingly well and a thoroughly exciting survival thriller develops. Although "Inside" flattens out somewhat towards the end, it is never uninteresting.

The production, set design and acting/casting certainly play the biggest part in this, with the latter probably being the most striking. For Willem Dafoe plays his heart out here, and with a role that is written exactly for him. There is hardly anyone in Hollywood who embodies madness as expressively as Willem Dafoe. The wide eyes, the furrowed face and the gaunt figure, which make everything seem all the more strenuous, fit perfectly into this film. Beyond that, however, "Inside" also offers nuanced and calmer, sometimes even quite funny scenes again and again, which provide a good contrast to the madness.

Nevertheless, the predominant mood in the film is of course tension. Besides the acting, the staging and set design do the rest here. High ceilings, hard edges, gloomy colours and completely sterile. It is almost impressive to make a flat look so uncomfortable, but at the same time still like a place to live, as is the case in "Inside". And the idea of making the main character look small and helpless through largely empty rooms, the ultra-wide format of the film and many long shots also deserves praise. To give a film that takes place almost the entire time in a flat an agoraphobic rather than claustrophobic feel is wonderfully refreshing on the one hand, but at the same time has itself a very alienating effect that only adds to the mood. Then there are the many million-dollar works of art on the walls, which seem completely out of place and impersonal as decoration in a residential building. Yes, most of the paintings are insanely interesting, but by no means pleasant to look at.

Apart from the fact that the paintings of an Egon Schiele, for example, simply have something very unsettling about them and thus contribute to the mood, the paintings have another important task. Namely, they open up the discourse on the meaning of art. What meaning does it have? To what extent is it only a luxury product or an essential part of life?

The whole thing is quite cleverly embedded in the plot. Questions about waste and well-being arise quite automatically when one fights for one's life surrounded by impossibly valuable paintings. What is the point of having these paintings around me when I need something as simple as water? What good does it do me to ponder the fragility of masculinity when I am indefinitely alone and isolated? In fact, however, "Inside" creates a thoroughly ambivalent perspective on these questions, especially when it comes to psychological value. Of course, no work of art is as important as water or food, but what about the value of our lives without creating and talking about art? Art has a big part in the fact that we live and not just survive. And that is the core of human existence even in such an extreme situation as in the film. That is precisely why the business with art and art as an investment is so absurd.

Inside" conveys this core quite successfully, but is also somewhat overloaded with cryptic statements on the subject. The subplot of the cleaner and the characterisation of the flat owner also seem a little too contrived and unrounded. Overall, however, the positives outweigh the negatives.