To hit where it hurts deep: On Jane Campion’s ‘In the Cut’
The 1980’s saw a rise of erotic thrillers going from the films of Brian De Palma to Paul Verhoeven — many of which have centered around the way that men saw the worlds around them. Whether they be films such as Basic Instinct, Body Double, or the Academy Award-nominated Fatal Attraction, there’s a common trait found in these films that often represents a male-dominant perspective. This is where the talks of Jane Campion’s In the Cut come into play; because what she shows us is an erotic thriller that tells the story of the women who often had their own bodies ogled at by these films, now taking control of the stories in question.
When In the Cut was released in 2003, reviews were more mixed, but the audience reception was even more negative, having received the rare “F” grade from CinemaScore. Recent years have shown the tide turning more favourable and it’s not difficult to see why at that. What once was seen as a miss for Jane Campion by many, even myself in my high school days, now I can see as one of the best films of the 21st century. But some would ask how can the tide turn on a maligned erotic thriller like this so quickly in recent memory, yet I think it’d be easy enough to answer that just from looking at how this movie chooses to tackle the familiar structuring and point of view that erotic thrillers of the day had often popularized.
Based on the novel by Susanna Moore, who in turn co-wrote the screenplay with Jane Campion, In the Cut stars Meg Ryan as Frannie Avery, an English teacher tangled into a murder case. One of the investigating detectives, Malloy, played by Mark Ruffalo, starts to show interest in Frannie and decides to start a relationship with her. As many erotic thriller films of the late 80’s to early 90’s could unfold, we normally see characters much like Malloy end up taking the lead role and then Frannie, who is a suspect in the murder, would be the femme fatale (perhaps calling back to Basic Instinct would be more than enough to jog up a memory or two).
From watching the film, you’re also seeing the world through the way Frannie does — in that she’s always sought after by the men in her own life. Perhaps the case could only be made clear by Frannie’s relationship with John Graham — played by Kevin Bacon. At one point, Frannie and John were in a relationship with one another, but the relationship was called off. But nonetheless, it’s ardently clear that Frannie has remained on John’s mind to the point of stalking her. To Campion, you could easily see John as being representative of the very mindset that is clearly entranced by a woman like Frannie. So much so, to the point of sexual obsession — another familiar trope of the erotic thriller.
Campion isn’t really interested in making an erotic thriller that feels like it’d be a simple gender role reversal, but clearly it’s an indictment of the men in a story of a woman’s own sexual awakening. A lot of this is very evident in how Frannie is portrayed, both through Campion’s own lens and by Meg Ryan’s performance. Taking on a role that was once to be played by Nicole Kidman, the casting of Ryan is a particularly inspired choice, seeing as she is easy enough to associate with romantic comedies both penned and directed by Nora Ephron. It’s especially inspired because of the fact that Meg Ryan plays this role with such grace and complexity, because of the inner conflict she’s facing.
This is what I find most compelling about her relationships with Malloy and Graham — looking back as a reflection of one another. She carries a desire to be more open about it, especially when around more men, as she finds a sense of comfort when around Malloy. Yet men like Graham also pervade her life, with Graham feeling as if he is still entitled to receive sexual gratification from her in the long run. In the brief moments where Graham shows up, his presence is best defined by his constant fits and as noted in a prior paragraph, constantly stalking Frannie. Malloy on the other hand, takes advantage of the gratification that Frannie gets out of him, seeing her as helpless.
All throughout the course of the film, it is clear that Frannie is being punished for her own coming to terms with her sexual awakening — first stemming from the involvement in the murder case, as we see the dead bodies coming in one by one. But there comes a point where the way Meg Ryan’s body is framed, ultimately is reflective of the world that she’s inhabiting, in that the men around her desire something out of her. This is maybe best emphasized by the cinematography, courtesy of Dion Beebe, framing New York as a murky, almost nightmarish landscape, in which she cannot escape from being the desires of the men around her.
In 2003, it would be easy to see how come a film like In the Cut would not have found its audience. But now, the age of #MeToo has shed a new light on how the film is viewed. What once seemed like an abstract erotic thriller, reflects a psychology that these such films often have left in the dark. Even now, that seems to be a perspective shafted away in favour of gratifying the male viewers, which is what makes watching In the Cut feel like it’s working through the skin, because it hits a sensitive area with relative ease, confronting what its viewers think they know of what desire could mean for one.
