"In the Cut" directed by Jane Campion is an adaptation of Susanna Moore’s novel. The story revolves around how the quiet, monotonous life of English teacher Frannie Avery dramatically shifts when a sexual maniac scatters the dismembered body parts of a sex worker in her garden. This gruesome discovery introduces Detective Giovanni Malloy into her world, as he takes charge of investigating the case. Meanwhile, the killer grows bolder, escalating his crimes, while Malloy begins a passionate romance with Frannie, blurring the lines between professional duty and personal desire. This leisurely paced, viscous erotic thriller doesn’t prioritize unraveling the mystery of the killer’s identity as much as it delves into themes of raw sensuality and unapologetic physicality. Scenes like explicit close-ups of fellatio push boundaries, outshining many genre counterparts—except perhaps "Basic Instinct," with which Campion engages in a deliberate (or perhaps unintentional) dialogue, albeit arriving fashionably late by a decade or so. Released in 2003, "In the Cut" stars Meg Ryan in a bold departure from her rom-com persona, portraying Frannie as a repressed academic whose life unravels into a whirlwind of erotic awakening and danger. Mark Ruffalo embodies Malloy with a rugged charisma, his character exuding a mix of vulnerability and machismo that draws Frannie deeper into a web of suspicion and lust.

Campion, known for her feminist lens in films like "The Piano," shifts her focus here to the intricate process of Frannie’s sexual awakening. Frannie starts as a solitary figure, immersed in poetry and linguistics, collecting slang and metaphors from the streets of New York. Her encounters with Malloy ignite a dormant passion, leading her to explore her desires in ways that challenge societal norms. This self-determination culminates in a radical acceptance of her identity, even if it manifests in extreme, perilous forms. The film’s narrative weaves psychological depth with thriller elements, emphasizing how Frannie’s internal transformation mirrors the external chaos of the murders.

One pivotal scene occurs early when Frannie witnesses a sexual act in a bar basement, setting the tone for voyeurism and awakening. This moment, shot with intimate close-ups, foreshadows her own encounters and blurs lines between observer and participant. Another is the explicit love scene between Frannie and Malloy, where Campion lingers on textures and sounds, emphasizing mutual pleasure over exploitation. Unlike many thrillers, consent and chemistry drive the narrative, humanizing characters amid suspense. The murders, depicted graphically yet not gratuitously, serve as metaphors for dissected female identities in society. Each victim represents facets of womanhood—sex worker, sister—mirroring Frannie’s fragmentation. Campion’s collaboration with editor Alexandre de Franceschi creates a rhythmic editing style, cutting between past and present, reality and fantasy, enhancing psychological immersion. Influence from French New Wave and Italian neorealism is evident in the film’s unstructured narrative and location shooting, adding verisimilitude.

In contrast to "Basic Instinct’s" ironic, playful tone, Campion offers a stark, unfiltered female perspective. There’s no winking at the audience; instead, the film immerses viewers in Frannie’s subjective experience, using fragmented cinematography by Dion Beebe to evoke disorientation and intimacy. The New York City setting, post-9/11, adds layers of urban anxiety, with shadowy alleys and subway encounters amplifying the sense of vulnerability. Frannie’s half-sister Pauline (Jennifer Jason Leigh) provides a foil, embodying a more overt sexuality that foreshadows potential dangers. Thematically, "In the Cut" critiques patriarchal violence and the objectification of women. Every male character, from Malloy and his partner Rodriguez (Nick Damici) to suspects like Cornelius Webb (Sharrieff Pugh), embodies varying degrees of misogyny or unpredictability. Campion flips the script on voyeurism: while male gaze is omnipresent, the film empowers Frannie to claim her own gaze, observing and desiring on her terms. This reversal is evident in explicit sex scenes that prioritize female pleasure and agency, a rarity in mainstream thrillers.

Moore’s novel, published in 1995, provided a rich foundation, but Campion and co-writer Susanna Moore adapted it to heighten the eroticism and psychological introspection. Ryan’s performance, often underrated, captures Frannie’s catatonic detachment evolving into fierce self-assertion. Ruffalo’s Malloy is no knight in shining armor; his flaws—crude language, possessiveness—force Frannie to confront her attractions and fears. The film’s ending, without spoiling, subverts expectations, reinforcing themes of empowerment amid horror. Though forgotten by many, "In the Cut" stands as a bold counterpoint to its male-directed peers, minus the irony but plus a profound empathy for women’s inner lives. In a genre rife with femme fatales and predatory men, Campion crafts a narrative where the true "cut" is into the psyche, exposing raw truths about desire, danger, and self-discovery.

Released amid post-9/11 unease, the film captures a gritty, paranoid Manhattan where trust is scarce. Campion’s direction employs soft-focus lenses and handheld cameras to mimic Frannie’s fragmented perception, blending dreamlike sequences with brutal realism. Sound design, with its ambient city noises and pulsating score by Hilmar Örn Hilmarsson, heightens tension, making everyday encounters feel ominous. Critics initially lambasted Ryan’s casting as against type, but retrospect reveals it as genius—her America’s sweetheart image shatters, symbolizing Frannie’s own breaking free from repression. Leigh’s Pauline adds emotional depth, her vulnerability highlighting the film’s commentary on sisterhood and shared female experiences in a hostile world.

Echoes of Hitchcock’s "Vertigo" appear in themes of obsession, while Klute’s investigative romance influences the dynamic between Frannie and Malloy. Yet Campion distinguishes herself by centering female interiority, making "In the Cut" a feminist reclamation of the genre.

Jane Campion’s direction in "In the Cut" not only challenges genre conventions but also invites discourse on female authorship in cinema. By centering a woman’s perspective in a male-dominated field, she paves the way for future filmmakers like Emerald Fennell or Chloe Zhao to explore similar themes with boldness.