Film Review: Inside (2025) - Australia
Reviewed by Andrew Chan (Film Critic Circle of Australia)
I rated it 7/10
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A Stark Sunlight on the Brutal Truth of the System - Prison films often fall into two traps: the lurid exploitation of violence or the sanctimonious sermon on redemption. Charles Williams’ impressive feature debut, “Inside”, deftly sidesteps both. This is a film etched not in the shadows of gothic despair, but under the harsh, fluorescent glare and unforgiving Australian sun beating down on a modern correctional facility. It’s a world of sterile concrete and simmering tension, where redemption is a dangerous currency and survival is a daily negotiation. While its narrative ambitions occasionally stretch its seams, “Inside” commands attention through raw authenticity and performances that resonate with the deep, troubling hum of lived experience.
We meet Mel Blight (Vincent Miller) at a terrifying crossroads: aging out of the relative containment of juvie into the vast, predatory maw of adult prison. He’s a ghost already, haunted by trauma that Miller conveys with a stillness that speaks volumes – a flicker in the eyes, a slight recoil, a posture perpetually braced for impact. His fragile existence becomes the focal point of a volatile "paternal triangle." On one side stands Mark Shepard (Cosmo Jarvis), a figure of notorious infamy radiating a terrifying, almost feral intensity. Jarvis is astonishing, crafting a man wrestling monstrous deeds with a desperate, self-serving grasp at spiritual salvation – he’s menacing, pitiable, and utterly magnetic. Opposing him is Warren Murfett (Guy Pearce), a grizzled lifer glimpsing the mirage of parole on the horizon, yet shackled by dangerous debts. Pearce, in one of his most grounded and finely tuned performances, embodies weary resilience. His Warren isn’t a grandstanding tough; he’s a man calculating survival with every exhausted breath, his quiet desperation far more chilling than any shouted threat. When external pressure forces Warren to target Shepard using the vulnerable Mel as a pawn, the film ignites, forcing the young man to navigate a lethal labyrinth of shifting loyalties.
What elevates “Inside” above standard "big house" fare is its unwavering commitment to a chillingly plausible reality. Williams, aided immensely by Andrew Commis’ cinematography, rejects the dank, shadowed clichés. This prison is new, clean, almost disturbingly bright. The corridors are wide, the walls are pale, the sunlight streams in – and this very sterility becomes its own form of suffocation. The "institutional claustrophobia" is palpable, born not from darkness but from the inescapable visibility, the constant surveillance (both official and unofficial), and the sheer, dehumanizing blandness of the environment. The synth score by Chiara Costanza isn't traditional suspense; it's a mesmerizing, brooding undercurrent of dread, a persistent electronic hum that mirrors the constant low-grade terror of incarceration.
If “Inside” stumbles, it’s under the weight of its own thematic ambition. Williams’ script occasionally feels overstuffed, juggling subplots and murky external pressures that dilute the potent central dynamic. The pacing, while deliberate to build psychological tension, sometimes drifts, prioritizing its "think-tank" exploration of guilt, manipulation, and systemic failure over the crisp narrative propulsion found in genre benchmarks. Furthermore, while the mentor figures are richly drawn, Mel himself, for all of Miller’s subtle brilliance, occasionally feels like the reactive pivot point rather than a fully explored protagonist. We understand his terror, but crave deeper insight into the fractures within his silence.
“Inside” is a tough, unflinching, and ultimately deeply humane film. It stares into the abyss of the carceral system not with sensationalism, but with a stark, sobering clarity. It finds its power not in grand escapes or melodramatic violence, but in the quiet terror of a sun-drenched corridor, the weight of a desperate glance, and the crushing burden of choices made in an environment designed to strip them away. While its narrative reach slightly exceeds its grasp, the film remains a significant achievement, propelled by extraordinary performances and a directorial vision refreshingly devoid of prison movie clichés. It’s a must-watch for those seeking authentic, challenging Australian cinema – a bleak journey, but one illuminated by undeniable talent and a resonant, uncomfortable truth. It earns its stripes. (Neo, 2025)