Inheritance
Directed by Neil Burger
Written by Neil Burger and Olen Steinhauer
Starring Phoebe Dynevor and Rhys Ifans
Rated R
Runtime: 1 hour, 41 minutes
In theaters January 24

by Megan Robinson, Staff Writer

What are we to do with the films that leave us cold? A visual medium that speaks its own language, with as many dialects as the imagination can muster, film is meant to make people feel. It is an art, chiefly, that has become married to a business, which is meant to create an endless cycle wherein art influences business, and the business stays afloat to allow art to flourish. What is one to do, however, when they feel nothing, when emptiness takes over? Maybe it’s hard for me not to get a tad existential about the state of cinema when the world frightens me; maybe I’ve watched too many cinematic heroes pass away to not hold a magnifying glass to every film I see now and interrogate it like the proverbial bad cop. Or maybe Neil Burger’s Inheritance created a kind of apathy within me that stretches beyond my usual writing style, leaving me to question what exactly films are supposed to achieve at all.

Inheritance opens with a montage of Maya (Phoebe Dynevor) making her way through a night in New York city filled with shoplifting, drinking, and clubbing. Of course, it’s her grief that’s trapped her in this state, as the next day she arrives for her mother’s funeral. Maya has been her mother’s caretaker for the last nine months, leaving her eager to accept her estranged father Sam’s (Rhys Ifans) offer to work with him in Cairo, starting the next day. They haven’t spoken in years, and Sam is certainly vague about what exactly his international “real estate” job entails; but Maya is lonely, lost, and in need of the kind of care she provided for her mother all alone. It isn’t until they arrive in Cairo that Sam’s job becomes clear—he’s a spy in possession of stolen government secrets he needs Maya to deliver to a shady group holding Sam hostage.

The most notable aspect of Inheritance is its cinematography. Everything is shot on location, from New York and Cairo to New Delhi and Seoul, each location is distinctive thanks to smart location scouting that highlights how unique these cities are. Just as good, the kinetic camera captures everyone in motion, opting for pans and tilts in favor of stationary shots and cuts. Maya runs from police in New Delhi, the camera on her level running at her same speed to capture everything in just a few takes, pushing past dozens of people on the street for an authentic feeling. It’s not all exciting, however; the tight close-ups of everyone–though mostly Maya–are simply close-ups. Somehow, there is no intimacy or tension created by the camera’s lack of distance, and the natural lighting does not allow for any dynamic angles or shots of Dynevor’s face.

Following one character throughout most of a film can be a big gamble. Audiences want to grow emotionally attached to a person on a screen, whether they’re likable or not or even whether they’re good people or not. Strong writing creates investment; Inheritance, though, is only plotted well, without the necessary work to make Maya’s journey meaningful to an audience. Dynevor has the difficult task of carrying much of the film on her own; even when speaking to other people she is often on the phone, with no other actor to visually work off of. It’s unfortunate, then, that neither the writing nor her performance give the audience anything to latch on to. Maya asks the same questions over and over again, does the same tasks again and again, and does it all with a look of pure apathy. If one were to ask me “Why did Maya do that?” the only answer I could give would be “Because it’s in the script.” There’s a plethora of ways to create a character that’s engaging, but small quirks and cookie-cutter backstories only add color, not depth. Ifans fares better, though his screen time is limited: his attitude is immediately sleazy. Despite his words, his actions speak far louder than Maya’s, and his performance is allowed to be dynamic while Dynevor is kept muted.

All of this leads me back to my central question: what are we to do with the films that leave us cold? I have, as a critic, written time and again about films that have left me empty by their end, with nothing to consider in my heart or mind. Inheritance leaves me much the same way, and, yet, there is a deeper mistake here than other films make. Burger uses the same tools, the same ideas, the same plotting, and the same energy that other great, commendable films made by masters have used to create something that begets the question “So what?” All of these interesting tools and ideas feel more like empty signifiers to remind us of what has been great before, rather than seeking to achieve greatness itself. There is a coldness to the techniques and ideas despite the rough, on-the-ground style of the film; audiences have seen this all before, but, now, it has been blended into one neat product. Inheritance tries to create a tense spy thriller that spans across the globe but forgets the heart and soul needed to create something truly special.

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