The Inside Pan

Saw “The Inside Man” last night. Meh. I liked it, but there was so much about it that just fell flat for me. Jodie Foster? Love her, but I’m hard-pressed to explain why her character was even necessary in the movie. The big reason for the bank heist? Didn’t buy it. Clive Owen? Struck me as a poor man’s Alan Rickman in “Die Hard.”

It was very obviously a Spike Lee movie, from specific ways the film was shot (Denzel rushing to the front door of the bank comes to mind) to the way racial tensions are just barely simmering underneath the surface. Lee remains one of the great American directors, but I just couldn’t follow him all the way to the other side of this film.

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