Inside (2023)

Inside is the rare thriller that turns confinement into a kind of high-wire art: a sleek New York penthouse becomes both gallery and prison, and every pristine surface starts to feel like it’s closing in. Willem Dafoe carries the film almost entirely on his own, and watching him think, improvise, unravel, and reassemble himself is as gripping as any chase scene—made even sharper by Vasilis Katsoupis’ cool, visually intelligent direction and immaculate production design. The vibe is tense, austere, and strangely hypnotic, the kind of movie that finds suspense in silence and meaning in objects without ever needing to shout. If you want a talky ensemble piece or a traditional heist payoff, this may feel deliberately spare, but if you’re up for a one-man survival drama with real ambition and craftsmanship, it’s absolutely worth stepping inside.

Inside is clearly aiming for a tense, minimalist survival thriller that doubles as a meditation on art, value, and isolation, and it commits hard to that one-location experiment. The problem is that the concept does most of the heavy lifting: once the initial hook lands, the film can feel repetitive and oddly hollow, stretching a thin story across a long runtime with pacing that tests your patience. Willem Dafoe is the main reason to watch—he’s magnetic and game for the physical and psychological grind—but even he can’t fully disguise how little the movie has to say beyond its setup. If you need plot momentum, big twists, or a satisfying emotional payoff, this may feel more like an art installation you’re stuck inside than a thriller you’re pulled through.