‘The Inspection’ Review: Jeremy Pope Is Heartbreaking In An Otherwise Unremarkable Queer Military Drama [TIFF]

The sincere desires that inspired “The Inspection” — the semi-autobiographical narrative feature debut from documentary filmmaker Elegance Bratton — aren’t enough to save his film from being unexceptional. A self-affirming narrative about a young, houseless, gay Black man enlisting in the Marines to make his severe mother proud had the potential to offer audiences a queer insight into the cultural shortcomings of the armed forces. Considering the controversial implementation of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” and the continued homophobia present in that hyper-masculine environment, it’s a look behind the curtain worth making. But Bratton’s film lacks the tonal control and an eye on the larger picture to pull off such a feat. 

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“The Inspection” isn’t a bad movie. Rather it’s a disappointing slog because the arduous journey it sets up should have offered greater returns. Our protagonist Ellis French (Jeremy Pope), sweeps onto the screen while sleeping on a bed in a homeless shelter. He is bearded, disheveled, yet bouncy and ebullient. There is a genuineness to Ellis’ mien and a world-weariness to his gait. Pope is the beacon in a story interested in the personal pursuit of this heartbroken son but not in the vicious system surrounding him. 

When Ellis arrives at an apartment belonging to his mom (Gabrielle Union), it’s easy to spot the inciting rift between these very different people: Her television blasts the spirited words of televangelists, and every nook and cranny of her home is brimming with religious iconography. She despises her son to the point of her putting down newspapers on her couch before he may sit and wiping off the items, such as a picture frame, that he’s touched. Ellis wants his birth certificate from her so he can enlist in the Marine corps. The decision leaves his mother suspicious: Can Ellis really survive basic training? Will the military, considering their policies against queer folks, really let him in? These, in her eyes, are pipe dreams waiting to disappear in front of a young man’s face. Ellis is undaunted. He thinks this is his one sure bet, not just to mend his fractured relationship with his mother but to make something of his life. 

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From the moment Ellis arrives at basic training, “The Inspection” becomes a movie about performance. Pope changes his posture from hunched to broad-chested. He speaks louder and trains harder. He can not, however, hide who he is. And before long, everyone on the base knows they’re training with a gay man. The revelation fragments the tiny platoon. That we learn very little about any of the regular soldiers — except a homophobic legacy recruit (McCaul Lombardi) and a middle eastern serviceman — is a weakness in Bratton’s screenplay. The officers also suffer the same fate: Raúl Castillo plays a sympathetic drill instructor with marriage problems who takes Ellis under his wing. Bokeem Woodbine, as the sadistic unit commander, makes you wish more directors would exercise his talent. He does wonders with a one-note character that exists as a paradigm of toxic masculinity, particularly through his unique line readings, which always zig when you expect them to zag. 

In some ways, “The Inspection” works as a personal journey of one soldier — Ellis must be so much stronger, emotionally and physically, than his comrades for him to survive — and it’s because of Pope. The stage actor broke out big in Ryan Murphy’s “Hollywood” back in 2020, where he showed off his wide, dynamic range. A similar coup happens in Bratton’s film: His expressive eyes, which can sell a sight gag, and translate a page of dialogue in a flash, grab you. The valleys never feel so manipulative, and the elation never feels so hamfisted because Pope adds grounded layers to this anguished character. 

Pope is the steady presence controlling odd tonal choices by Bratton. There are moments of comedy in instances where they should not exist. The mood can also veer to manic excess akin to “Jarhead” and is by turns sexual, visceral, calming, and distressing. You go through every emotion Bratton must have faced, though in a haphazard fashion. After a stream of scenes depicting training, abuse, training, abuse, you begin to wonder what larger theme Bratton wants to hit on. 

Unlike Claire Denis’ “Beau Travail,” “The Inspection” isn’t very interested in the systemic inequities of the Marine corps. It’s why Woodbine’s abusive character is treated as the exception rather than the rule within this structure. It’s why Castillo’s character becomes a kind of white knight. Maybe Bratton had a different experience in the military and found a platoon that was mostly supportive of him from the jump, but he sidesteps a closer interrogation and does his powerful story a disservice. Films like “The Inspection” should always desire to be moral quandaries as much as they’re inspirational. By the end, Ellis doesn’t get the happy conclusion he so desired, but he does leave fulfilled. If only viewers could say the same. [C]

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