“The Cut” Sees Orlando Bloom Going for the Kill
Obsession is a powerful drug. It’s a necessary component for anyone who rises to the top of their field, but what’s often ignored in the pursuit of glory is restraint. Obsession is good…to an extent. The problem is that when an individual is in the throes of trying to achieve something far larger than themselves, they cannot see the forest for the trees. Sean Ellis’ The Cut is the story of a boxer, a ripe profession for obsession taking hold. However, The Cut is not about the fight, not really. It’s about everything that leads up to that night in the ring.
Ten years before the events of the film begin, a man known only as The Boxer (Orlando Bloom) loses a title fight. It’s something he doesn’t recover from mentally, even after ten years of building a boxing gym to train the next generation of fighters. It’s obvious that the work he does at the gym pales in comparison to the opportunity of getting back in the ring again. The Boxer runs the facility with his wife, Caitlin (Caitríona Balfe), who initially used the sport as a means of recovery, although from what exactly is never made clear. Out of the blue, The Boxer is offered a chance at what could be a comeback fight in Las Vegas. The only catch is that he needs to lose twenty-six pounds in roughly six days. When traditional workout methods aren’t cutting it, The Boxer turns to Boz (John Turturro) and his less-than-safe means of dropping the weight.
Photo courtesy of Republic Pictures (a Paramount Pictures label).
The Cut is about just what it sounds like it is: the practice of cutting weight before a fight. Nearly the entire film takes place within a Las Vegas hotel. If you’ve never visited one of the casino-laden hotels in Sin City, The Cut gives you a good idea of how disorienting they are. There are no windows in the lobbies or ballrooms, no clocks, and the same dark carpeting covers all the hallways. They’re constructed this way so gamblers aren’t aware of the world around them. Casinos don’t want their big spenders to know they’ve spent twelve hours at the table. The same goes for The Boxer. His trainers don’t want him to know about the world around him. His singular focus needs to be the numbers on the scale, because losing twenty-six pounds in less than a week is an absurd, deeply unhealthy task. It’s also impossible to talk The Boxer out of it because he’s been dreaming of the ring for ten years.
The sucker punch of The Cut is that the film doesn’t give us the ecstasy of the ring. We see The Boxer ten years ago throwing punches, but whether he makes the weight or not, the film never takes us inside the pure adrenaline of a comeback title fight. Without it, without the eruption of fanfare, the audience is forced to look at the lead-up in a different light. Is everything The Boxer puts himself through justified, even if he never gets the chance to try again, let alone win the title? That’s what makes the tension between Caitlin and The Boxer so compelling. She sees how dangerous Boz’s methods are and she’s willing to shut everything down because The Boxer’s life is more important to her than the title, but not to The Boxer. He’s willing to die trying, which turns The Cut into something more of a body horror film than one might expect. In fact, if you’re tuning in because you’re in the mood for a boxing-centric film, The Cut is not going to scratch that itch. This is obsessive body mutilation in pursuit of a dream that ultimately poses the question of whether this level of dedication is worth it.
Photo courtesy of Republic Pictures (a Paramount Pictures label).
The Cut works best when it’s deep in the obsessive build-up to The Boxer’s title fight. When the audience is hunched over the toilet with him as he shoves his fingers down his throat, desperate to lose even an ounce. The narrative is bogged down a bit by flashbacks to his childhood that are more convoluted than enlightening. We don’t need to know him on an intimate level. He’s an archetype with a singular focus that governs his every move, and The Cut is giving us the opportunity to live in that obsession for a while. Swinging between a touch too dramatic and utterly visceral, The Cut lands its fair share of punches.
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