INSIDE MAN: A Devilishly Intelligent Heist Thriller

I would be lying if I said that I am an expert and admirer of Spike Lee’s work. In fact, I first watched his film a few years ago, and it was 25th Hour. I’m not really sure how representative this title is of the director’s work, but one thing I can say for sure: I certainly haven’t seen a film, either before or after, that commented on the events of September 11, 2001 with greater subtlety. Without flashy effects, without resorting to cheap pathos, but with an underlying emotion, a feeling that couldn’t be overlooked. Inside Man, although it certainly doesn’t tell the story of those tragic events, subtly conveys the trauma of those days and the scars they left on the city’s body and in the minds of people. The panorama of New York without the WTC towers doesn’t need a comment from Lee because it speaks for itself. Paradoxically, a few days after watching Spike’s film, that’s what sticks with you, and I have the feeling that deep down in the director’s subconscious, that’s exactly what was meant to happen.

Nevertheless, as already mentioned, this is not a film dedicated to reminiscing or picking at slowly healing wounds. This time, it is a heist thriller at its best, choosing as its theme the archetype of the “Wild West culture”—a bank robbery. The robber here is a devilishly intelligent thief, played by Clive Owen. One must admit that he doesn’t lack screen charisma, and despite the fact that for most of the time, we only see his masked face, the character he creates is unforgettable. The robbery plan is perfect, which sets the stage for an intriguing story.

And it unfolds within a specific quadrangle of first- and second-tier characters, between the aforementioned bandit, a police negotiator (played by Denzel Washington), the bank president whose branch has just been robbed (Christopher Plummer), and a special agent hired by him (Jodie Foster). The presence of the latter would suggest that the typical script for this kind of story—“the bad guy, convinced of his own cunning, robs the bank of an honest businessman, and the good cop turns out to be smarter”—won’t apply here. And rightly so. As you can easily guess, each character has their own agenda, which doesn’t necessarily align with the interests of the other participants in the game. None of the characters is spotless; there is no one you can root for without hesitation, even though the action is directed in such a way that we are encouraged to cheer for the handsome Owen.

I haven’t seen such interesting characters in a long time, who simultaneously provoke such ambivalent feelings. This ambiguity not only brings them closer to real people, but it also makes us attempt to place ourselves in similar situations. The impression is further deepened by the fact that the motivations, carefully hidden by the creators, remain unclear for a long time, which heightens the viewer’s curiosity. What could a tough woman hired by the bank president have to do with the leader of the gang robbing his bank? Why does the police negotiator, tasked with freeing fifty hostages, have problems with the Internal Affairs Department, and why isn’t the bank president sitting in his luxurious residence preparing a reward for the capture of the villain? This situation, not without reason, suggests that their intentions are by no means pure, and each of them holds a secret whose revelation would cause no small amount of trouble.

Spike Lee does not focus on spectacle; he doesn’t surprise the viewer with flashy “rides,” but instead places his characters at the center of events, and they are the most important to him. However, this doesn’t mean he neglects the storyline, which, combined with excellent dialogue and vivid characters, resembles the intricate puzzles of David Mamet—an undisputed master of the suspense drama, whose theatrical roots don’t let us forget that the character is the vehicle for the plot, not the other way around. The non-linear screenplay, intertwining scenes of the ongoing robbery with images from the interrogations that followed, tied together by the author’s closing statements, slowly, step by step, reveals the mechanism of the perfect crime. At the same time, it doesn’t shy away from careful humor and a keen sociological observation of the post-WTC community.

Almost out of place, it seems, is the conclusion made from the perspective of several days after the screening, that, in fact, the changes of the era of terrorism, while undoubtedly leaving their mark on the collective psyche, have not led to drastic changes in mentality or human behavior. Cynicism and selfishness are still in high demand, and for money, you can buy “almost” anything. When Spike Lee briefly seems to serve us a moral scene of conversion, just a second later, he cynically disappoints us, seemingly saying: “If you thought experiences like these could change a person, you were wrong.” We still steal, take revenge, humiliate, buy others, and let scavengers prey on the weak. The world hasn’t changed, and in this context, the bank robber seems to be the most respectable person in the group.