In such crazy flip-flopping times as these, when nobody gives a toss about such niceties as feminism or equality, what you do matters considerably less than how you sell it. If Kate Moss poledanced her way through a video for Motley Crue – as opposed to, say, The White Stripes – wouldn’t such a move be universally denounced as exploitation?
Similarly, if In The Cut were the work of Adrian Lyne (the director of such liberated classics as Lolita and Fatal Attraction) it would almost certainly be dismissed as tacky tedium. But as this is a film by New Zealand auteur Jane Campion (The Piano, Potrait Of A Lady), critics may well desist from putting the boot in.
For shame. This ‘erotic thriller’ (as the generic misnomer goes) is truly deserving of a roasting. Taken from Susanna Moore’s grim and gruesome novella, the film sees Meg Ryan’s teacher becoming sexually embroiled with a pervy detective (Ruffalo). He’s investigating a grisly serial-killer whose signature calling card involves placing engagement rings on the (usually severed) hands of his single, female victims. And a sordid time is had by all as the corpses mount.
Now that she’s in her forties, and undeservedly tarnished following a romantic encounter with Russell Crowe, Ms Ryan is anxious to be taken seriously as an actress. So, she does what all actresses do when they crave credibility – goes brunette and gets her tits out for an ‘edgy’ part. And she does well despite an idiotic and unsympathetic character. Ruffalo meanwhile smoulders impressively alongside – no mean feat for a man sporting a mustache that could be a homage to Liverpool’s starting line-up in1981.
But this is far from the career-reviving film Ryan must have wished for. The plot is Scooby Doo-plus-shock-factor, the sex is grubby and desperate and Campion’s flourishes (wandering camera shots, dream sequences, 9/11 references) seem a bit extravagant for a hack-’em-up.
As improbable as it sounds, even the risible Holy Smoke was superior to this. Maybe Meg should see if the Crue have an opening.