INHALE Review
Although Inhale is notable
for being Kormákur's first U.S. production, he has worked with Hollywood
actors before. To pick a film that's probably not in his top tier,
2005's A Little Trip to Heaven featured Forest Whitaker, Jeremy
Renner and a script by Kormákur that, even if it didn't always hit
its emotional marks, was obviously acquainted with the notion of providing
the audience with the pleasures of cinema. There were interesting characters,
some intriguing narrative complexity, and a growing sense of urgency
as the story progressed. Inhale, by contrast, has no such instincts
regarding its audience. Like another mixed effort from a couple of years
ago, Trade, Inhale tries to combine a shocking, this-deserves-more-attention
topic with a scummy, street-level view of a shadowy region of U.S.-Mexico
economic relations. I suppose a blueprint for such films might be
Traffic, but it might also be the exception that proves the rule,
making it look like it's easy to combine a docudrama sensibility with
a genre flick's knack for engaging viewers.
Here the topic is the illegal
trade in internal organs, a fact that some opening text-on-screen clues
us into. Not a great sign, beginning with statistics. Usually those
are reserved for the end (where, yes, Inhale provides additional
stats), after a film has aroused the audience's indignation or compassion.
I gave Inhale the benefit of the doubt, though, thinking, "Hey,
maybe it's getting this stuff out of the way so that we won't be
lectured to once the action starts." No such luck. Not only are we
lectured to repeatedly, but it's also done in a very ham-fisted manner.
Rosanna Arquette, as a kind-hearted doctor, gives us quick primer on
the global situation, and gosh, no, I didn't know that organs are routinely
harvested from death row prisoners in China, or that in Iran you can legally
sell your own kidney. When the action moves to Mexico, with desperate
father Dermot Mulroney trying to track down some second-hand lungs for
his daughter, the doctors and officials continue in this vein, seizing
upon every opportunity to educate him... and, of course, us. Yet meanwhile
his actual relationship with the daughter, and even the character herself,
is depicted in the sketchiest of ways. He calls her "pumpkin" once
or twice, that's about it. In one scene he and wife Diane Kruger rush
to her aid while nude, so primal is their concern. Perhaps the filmmakers
thought it was efficient to use this kind of shorthand for the emotional
content, but the end result is that, as drama, Inhale has the
depth of onion skin.
We wouldn't mind not caring
so much about the daughter's plight if events surrounding her Dad
were consistently gripping. But Mulroney's character is never really
in jeopardy; even though he gets beaten up, entrapped, threatened, and
so on, it's all a big yawn. Mexico is presented as that archetypally
dangerous place of Other-ness, barely civilized and paying for the monied
sins of its northern neighbor. As such, its replete with nearly every
cliché one can imagine. Randomly sadistic anti-gringo thugs in vacant
lots? Check. A dark-eyed and duplicitous "femme" seductress who
may or may not have a heart of gold? Check. Malevolent "Los Olvidados"-type
urchins hanging out on every corner? Check. One of those malevolent
"Los Olvidados"-type urchins becoming the plucky, streetwise, Third
World sidekick for our white, privileged point-of-view character? Double
check!
Worse yet, there are several transparent attempts to goose the thrills. There's a sudden firefight that comes across as a distracting sidebar to the main plot. There are also some gory close-ups in a surgery scene. And in the end we're meant to be captivated as Mulroney must make the inevitable big moral decision. That's not to say that these issues aren't worth putting in the public spotlight, but by the end of Inhale you'll wish you had just watched a segment of a TV news magazine. Indeed, even the average Public Service Announcement has more excitement, authenticity, and originality.