Credit: Sony Pictures Classics
Charles Ferguson’s film Inside Job is brilliant filmmaking that explains clearly and emphatically how the easiest way to rob a bank is to own one. Ferguson exposes the bullshit behind the crafted headlines of the financial collapse, from the tycoons at the head of Iceland’s economic implosion, to the stuffy self-important academics loathe to question their own ethics. He interviews Wall Street sex workers and psychotherapists, exposes the rampant drug use and lack of business or personal ethics, and shows the vast chasm between the world of these industry titans and the lives of the people their purposeful scheming has destroyed. All the set pieces to this bank job did their assignments, our “Wall Street government” played both sides of the aisle. They set out to defraud us, and they’ve pulled it off — so far.
“These people are risk takers, they’re impulsive. I see a lot of cocaine use, prostitution.” Jonathan Alpert, Manhattan psychotherapist
Beautifully shot and scored, revealingly edited — the shots of pundits fussing with their lavaliere mics speak volumes — the film is the opposite of dry. It is a compelling, well written heist film — only this time, the pit in your stomach reminds you you’re one of those whose bank account has been cleverly siphoned clean.
What you can’t understand, at the end of it all, is why the world has put up with this bullying. The absurdity of the ratings agencies’ testimonies before Congress is a case in point. Each agency — they clearly got together in the bathroom beforehand to get their stories straight — claimed before a dumbstruck House Financial Services Committee that their all-important investment-grade ratings, doled out like candy to favored clients, amount to nothing more than mere “opinions,” and are therefore protected by the first amendment. Instead of handcuffing the agency CEOs on the spot and throwing the book at them, the House Committee backed obediently down.
Ferguson doesn’t. One of the greatly satisfying experiences of watching this film is hearing Ferguson stand up to these bullies. He throws them hardball questions and we watch them dodge and weave, squirming in agony, clearly unaccustomed to being interviewed by anyone who has done their homework. “You can’t be serious,” Ferguson blurts off screen at one outrageous answer — just as we would. The titans and the apologists shift, they fuss, they look away, they get flustered, they get demanding and, glory be, Ferguson doesn’t flinch. You feel, finally, there’s an adult in the room.
“What can we believe in? There’s nothing we can trust anymore.” Gillian Tett, Financial Times journalist
Though Ferguson’s film is short on solutions, there is hope in its distribution. People will see it. People will tell their friends. If there’s one thing the American people have in common it’s that they have little tolerance for criminals in high places. The common awareness of the current state of things will push us to innovate a path to take our power back from this industry.
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