To prevent this day turning into a late teen memory Sunday*, we went to the afternoon movies despite the inviting spring sun. I did not take much pondering to decide for Inside Man by Spike Lee. I like Lee's work since I was nailed into the cinema seat by his Do the Right Thing. I was at first reluctant to propose Inside Man to Toño, knowing that Lee does not mince matters in his work. All my fear was for nothing, Inside Man took not only Toño from the first minute. This is on of the sleekest and most deceptive thrill ride since House of Games. Inside Man does not only ensure that Lee's next rent is paid, but also shows that spotless mainstream entertainment can build a smart alliance with levelling against the current commonly approved agenda. I'm tempted to give it 9/11 rating but stick to 7 polished martens.
* This includes but is not limited to linen and mattress soaking sex and listening to old tunes like The Stooges' I Wanna Be Your Dog in the much raunchier version Hund by Paul Weixler, who happens to be the author of the hymn Züri brännt, which has reminds me of Fight The Power by Public Enemy.