While we normally tend to gravitate towards films that follow a familiar structure (granted they are not predictable to the point of being tedious), there are some occasions when a more subversive work catches our attention, whether either in terms of narrative or execution, there is something quite different about a work that piques our curiosity and maintains our attention. One recent example of this kind of experimental approach that worked quite well comes in the form of Inside, in which Vasilis Katsoupis, making his directorial debut, tells the story of an art thief assigned to what appears to be quite a conventional, routine mission of stealing three paintings from a currently vacated New York City penthouse while its occupant is overseas, but who soon finds himself at the mercy of the apartment’s advanced security technology, which essentially traps him within, forcing him to fight for survival in a place usually seen as the hallmark of luxury. Inside is a peculiar film – surprisingly sparing in terms of dialogue (but the few moments of spoken language is incredible, so credit must be given to Ben Hopkins, whose screenplay is neat and concise, but filled with so much meaning and nuance), and quite limited in terms of the scope, taking place entirely within one location, the film still manages to be quite an extraordinary piece of filmmaking, with Katsoupis proving himself to be quite an exciting young voice in contemporary cinema, and someone to watch carefully, since he possesses quite an impressive visual prowess that will likely make him a formidable voice in the future, and someone of considerable stature when it comes to exploring the lengths to which a film can go to prove a particular point. Inside seems like a simple premise, and it certainly does not waste any time in getting to the heart of its story – but in between these moments, we find a profound and engaging psychological drama that explores fascinating themes in inventive and compelling ways, making it one of the year’s most captivating films, and a truly surprising work of contemporary experimental cinema.

While it is objectively one of the most important aspects of any film, performances are usually just one of many components that make these stories work. There are very few that depend almost entirely on the actors to move the narrative along. Inside is one of those films, with the script being intentionally sparse, and even its impressive cinematography mainly exists to expand on the plight of the main character. With the exception of a few voices and distant figures, either in CCTV footage or the occasionally inserted abstraction, this film is driven primarily by single actor, essentially serving to be a cinematic one-person show, which makes it quite alluring on both a conceptual and artistic level. If a director is going to choose one actor to appear from beginning to end as essentially the sole figure in the film, you cannot do much better than Willem Dafoe, who is inarguably one of our greatest living actors, and someone whose versatility has never gone to waste. Neither a stranger to mainstream fare nor experimental arthouse, Dafoe was remained one of the most brilliant performers of his generation, regardless of the genre or style of film in which he acts. It is important that we emphasize his contributions to this film – it may not be his most remarkable performance (although with a career as diverse and sprawling as his, is there any clear consensus on what his best actually is?), but it sees Dafoe pushing himself to his physical and psychological limits, turning in a performance that is layered and often quite unsettling in how committed he is to play this role. As the character of Nemo (which many of us knows means “nobody”), Dafoe puts himself to the test physically and emotionally, acting almost entirely by himself, which is a challenge for any actor, including those of his calibre. Inside presents him with quite a challenge, and never one to heed to any obstacles, he dedicates himself wholeheartedly to the demands of the film, and in the process creates a truly unforgettable character in a film that thrives entirely on the strength of his performance.

Inside is an example of a film that combines both the mainstream and arthouse methods of filmmaking (existing at the perfect intersection between the two), with Katsoupis being very effective in how he constructs every detail in this film, with every moment of it being meaningful and interesting. On a purely visual level, there is a profound brilliance that drives this film. Working closely with director of photography Steve Annis, whose cinematography is perhaps the second most important element in this film after Dafoe’s masterful performance, the director constructs a nightmarish vision of the world, all of which is contained to this penthouse apartment, which seems both restrictive and endless, with the various corners and hidden nooks creating a world within these four walls that we want to explore, albeit with reluctance, knowing the secrets that may be lurking just around the next corner. The direction is tight and direct – there was very little reason to hide anything in this film behind a veneer of allusion, since the most impact is made when we realize exactly what this film is aiming to do. A fascinating subversion of the survival genre, which normally places characters in isolation in the most remote corners of the wilderness, Inside follows the same structure of showing the protagonist’s attempts to survive, with the only difference being that he is not in the wilderness, but rather in the coldest, inorganic environment imaginable, where the inhumanity and unnatural appearance of his surroundings may initially give off the illusion of luxury, but actually becomes deeply terrifying, much more than the great outdoors.  Evoking a feeling of claustrophobia that will terrify even those who don’t suffer from that fear, Inside plays on our inherent discomfort, with the idea of being trapped in a room without any chance of escape being something that we have all pondered in fear from time to time. The film gradually descends into a psychological horror, with the feeling of not knowing what is to come being profoundly important to the story and its identity, as well as the overall execution of the film as a whole.

However, it is ultimately very important to look beneath the surface and see that, despite its radical simplicity, there is something much deeper and more profound at the heart of Inside, which may take some work to recognize, but undeniably exists squarely at the centre of the story. This is the kind of film that doesn’t make its meaning entirely obvious, nor does it even dare provide answers to the provocative questions posed throughout. In fact, the most impactful moments in this film come when the viewer starts to ask their own questions, unprompted by the narrative but undeniably part of the fabric of the film. The entire plot is left up to interpretation – we are given very little insight into who the character of Nemo is (with the reality being that this name itself was likely a pseudonym used for the heist), outside of his constant references to appreciating art not only as a form of expression, but an entire manner of living, which is a fascinating and highly resonant concept. We aren’t even sure if what we are seeing is real – there is indeed room to argue that this penthouse is actually an allegory for the human mind, with Nemo’s attempts to escape being an allegory for an individual navigating the varying stages of psychosis, yearning to escape from a mental prison that entraps and consumes, almost simultaneously. The storyline is filled with references, both artistic and otherwise – some of them are clues to the eventual conclusion, and others are red herrings designed to throw us off and complicate the narrative. Regardless, by the time we reach that conclusion, we find a film that is so poignant in its examination of certain issues, even the ambigious ending feels thoroughly earned, with the idea of simply disappearing into the ether either referencing the character eventually making his hard-earned escape through the skylight, or dying as a result of his predicament. Either way, he makes his way out of this technologically-advanced purgatory, and the preceding 100 minutes are truly captivating in both style and substance, although in a much less orthodox fashion than we’d expect.

Whether we want to look at this film as merely being an experimental work that focuses on a single idea for its entire running time, or as something slightly deeper and more profound, it is clear that Inside is quite a remarkable work, both in form and function, which is not something we often find in many directorial debuts. The pairing of a rambunctious young director like Katsoupis with a seasoned veteran like Dafoe, who has always shown his willingness to experiment and collaborate with young filmmakers in their early productions ends up being quite remarkable, especially since they are able to get onto each other’s wavelength in a way that is truly incredible – Dafoe is capable of pushing himself to the limit in order to help realize the director’s visions, whereas Katsoupis adapts his own style to fit around the actor’s peculiar but remarkable penchant for character-based work. It is a fascinating character study masquerading as a dense, challenging psychological thriller, and in the process of getting to the heart of what makes these stories so compelling, the creative minds behind Inside create something so captivating, we are actively working to unearth its mysteries, which turn out to be quite enigmatic, even after we receive what appear to be the answers. Deeply strange but profoundly powerful in unexpected ways, it is not likely that we will find anything quite like Inside anytime soon, proving it to be one of the year’s most enticing and provocative works of cinematic storytelling.