Opens Fri Oct 31
If you're selling a movie as a sexy, suspenseful thriller one would think it would be sexy, suspenseful, and thrilling. In the Cut is none of these things.
Starring romantic comedy queen Meg Ryan and indie darling Mark Ruffalo--who charmed the world in 2000's You Can Count on Me--In the Cut is an extremely muddled murder mystery, much in the vein of Sea of Love. Mark Ruffalo is Detective Malloy, investigating the murder of a woman who was killed and dismembered close to Meg Ryan's apartment building. Meg Ryan is Frannie, an entirely humorless schoolteacher with a nympho streak. As you might guess, Mark and Meg hook up after he questions her about whether she heard anything the night of the murder.
Problem number one with this movie is that the sex between Meg and Mark is about as exciting as eating paste. Despite the circling fear, uncertainty, and longing within both characters, when the two fall into bed together it's only after the detective folds his pants and places them neatly on the dresser. Afterwards the two sit in bed drinking water while Meg questions Mark on how he became so good at eating pussy. There's no urgency, no spark, no blood, no guts--and I'd really rather not hear about anyone eating Meg Ryan's pussy.
Problem two is that the murder mystery takes backseat to the boring relationship. It's possible the killer could be one of Meg's students, her part-time boyfriend, or Detective Malloy himself, but the script mentions these possibilities so infrequently that you never feel afraid. In fact, you never even reach the point where you're conjecturing about who the killer really is, and when the truth is revealed you couldn't give a crap.
In short, In the Cut is pure slop. By failing to make either your heart race or your groin tingle it falls flat, and the filmmaker's obvious attempts at symbolism and depth become laughable. In at least four scenes Meg Ryan is seen as lost, confused, and wearing one shoe. Does this symbolize that she needs the detective in her life to make her whole? Frankly, who cares?