Inside

Director: Vasilis Katsoupis
Starring: Willem Dafoe, Gene Bervoets, Eliza Stuyck
Running Time: 105 min.
Rating: R

★★½ (out of ★★★★)

As much an endurance test for viewers as it is the film's protagonist, director Vasilis Katsoupis' Inside finds a thief trapped in a Manhattan high-rise penthouse apartment, making you wonder about the effectiveness of its high tech security system. But working from a script by Ben Hopkins, Katsoupis clearly hopes no one's looking at his debut feature that literally, instead too absorbed in the metaphorical implications of a man inadvertently caged. The movie's title carries two meanings, both describing the predicament itself and how we're taken deep inside the mind of someone slowly unraveling as he loses touch with reality. 

Fitting squarely into the pandemic era of isolation cinema, it's somewhat of a slog, kept afloat by Willem Dafoe's tour de force turn, which goes a longer way toward redeeming this than you'd expect. Described as "a solitary exhibition" on its poster and promotional ads, that's exactly what it is, compelling much of the way through thanks to him. But for an existentially themed project this reliant on observing human behavior, it doesn't exactly linger long in the mind or go anywhere you'd hope.

Disguised as a handyman, art thief Nemo (Dafoe) breaks into the New York City penthouse of a wealthy art collector (Gene Bervoets) to steal three valuable Egon Schiele paintings, one of which is missing. Despite this, he attempts to leave, in the process accidentally setting off the security system and locking him inside the apartment. With his walkie talkie contact abandoning him and a now broken thermostat causing the temperature to wildly fluctuate, Nemo frantically searches for a way out.

Running dangerously low on food and water, a chance at rescue could come from a maid named Jasmine (Eliza Stuyck) he sees on the security camera and gradually becomes obsessed with. Basically tearing the place apart, he works on building a structure that could possibly facilitate an exit. But hallucinating and starving, Nemo's losing all grasp on reality, turning this personal prison into a messy, disastrous art exhibit reflective of his lonely existence.     

The film starts with a introspective voiceover from Nemo about the permanence of art, foreshadowing that this posh dwelling may soon become the gallery where he leaves his expressionistic mark. There are some clever aspects to the setup, but after a while the challenges of following through with such a concept start piling up as high as the furniture Nemo stacks in his attempts to climb out. Fun gags like a refrigerator door playing the Macarena or him dining on dog food and drinking from the sprinklers hold our attention largely because Dafoe rarely needs words to convey the anguish and dark comedy of this thief's situation. 

The irony isn't lost that the apartment is completely inaccessible to any class of person in the building but its owner, who at any point you half expect to see just casually walk in and discover Nemo's bruised, malnourished body on the floor of this now trashed residence. The set design team deserves a lot of credit for creating a sterile "smart home" space that's aesthetically paradise, but proves unlivable because of the overbearing technology. If a seasoned art burglar could be trapped in this seemingly impenetrable fortress, it stands to reason the same scenario could easily befall anyone attempting to enter or leave.

With Nemo physically and mentally deteriorating, you realize this has essentially turned into an indoor Cast Away minus Wilson the volleyball. He also starts looking like absolute hell and all of his good ideas to get out are accompanied by some unexpected obstacle preventing it. Security camera access should provide creative potential but that never really goes anywhere, nor does his fascination with the housekeeper. As he spirals further downward into the ugly recesses of his mind, there are numerous questions. How long has this been? Is the apartment ever cleaned? And you wouldn't be wrong  assuming the alarms should notify police or the owner, which seems even likelier in a residence containing priceless pieces of art.

Fatigue sets in after an impressive dream sequence, as the narrative crawls along until petering out and coming to a close. In the meantime, it's fun imagining all the untapped scenarios this premise could have provided and wondering why none occurred. Even accounting for Katsoupis' attempts to replicate in audiences a similar sense of his tortured character's disorientation, it seems as if major opportunities are missed. 

Playing better as self-contained acting showcase than a twisty psychological thriller, this is still highly watchable, at least until frustrations start bubbling over. While it isn't exactly fair to expect a single location picture titled Inside to open things up a little more, there is some truth to that complaint. Without a clue of what's happening on the outside, stakes lessen as we approach an anti-climactic finish, leaving its lead performance and top notch production design to pick up the slack.