Inside Man (2006)

Spike Lee goes as mainstream (mostly, kind of) in the off-kilter bank-robbery crime drama Inside Man (2006) that dares be honest about all that pent-up hostility we Americans of every stripe, color, language, religion, and tax bracket bury deep. The shit we don’t admit to. Post 9/11. It’s sizzling, like a James Ellroy book on screen, popping with glorious visuals, thank you cameraman Matthew Libatique (“Black Swan”) and music men Terence Blanchard and A.R. Rahman (well before “Slumdog Millionaire”). It’s NYC and Clive Owen has led a group of thieves into a high-end bank to rob it, holding hostages, while NYC dicks Denzel Washington and Chiwetel Ejiofor investigate and keep their careers; see, Denzel’s cop’s nose maybe is unclean. Or maybe it is. The more I watch “Inside,” the more I grove to its trickery and its commentary on America right now. Near 9 years on, it crackles fresh. It is as much a movie within a movie as “The Game.” And who exactly is the title character. Is it even a man? Hello, Jodie Foster. A

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