The Cut

We begin by watching the boxer - who has no name so let’s call him “Clint” - bottling a fight that could have led him to fame and glory. Instead, a decade later he is working in a small gym for his girlfriend “Caitlin” (Caitriona Balfe) and putting up with some dogs abuse from the local thuggery. Then, out of the blue, he gets a call from renowned matchmaker “Donny” (Gary Beadle) offering him a shot at a title. She is reluctant but appreciates that he really needs to exorcise some of his long-held demons so off they go to Vegas and the weigh-in. Suffice to say that at least I can blame the cheesecake but he has no excuse for being about 20kg overweight, so he is going have to undergo a training ordeal from hell if he is to make it to the ring at all! That is what this film is about, and boy does Bloom take method acting to a whole new level. He quite literally sweats and bleeds the part as he strives to lose the pounds. Swiftly, it becomes obvious to “Donny” that even this isn’t enough, so he drafts in “Boz” (John Turtutto) who brings with him a new regime and some tempting short-cuts that might just be on the wrong side of the rules. As “Clint” becomes more and more exhausted, desperate and now estranged from “Caitlin” he begins to live his life in a daze during which we are filled-in on elements of his past with his single mother (Clare Dunne) who made her living with her own rather hands-on style of entertaining the troops in Northern Ireland. With these traumas bubbling under to complement the physical torture his body is facing, is there any chance he can get the scales to let him fight? Even if he can, what state will he be in? This is so very far removed from anything Bloom has done before and his efforts reek of authenticity as we progress. Sadly, though, the story doesn’t really develop. The characterisations are really disappointingly undercooked and though what we are left with is powerfully excruciating at times to watch, it is all just a bit shallow. Torturro reminded me a little of JK Simmons in “Whiplash” (2014) only here this mentoring role is compromised a little too often by the unexplained entry of “Lupe” (Mohammed Mansaray) whose role imposes itself almost as if he is a figment of our boxer’s increasingly fragile imagination. As a performance from a star this will take some beating come awards season, but as a narrative it is woefully under-cooked.