Is Jane Campion's In the Cut unjustly maligned? When the film debuted in the fall of 2003, it was met with a wave of disappointment from fans and critics who found a certain amount of brilliance in such previous Campion efforts as Sweetie, The Piano, and Portrait of a Lady. I am a devoted fan of The Piano, but I somehow managed to miss In the Cut during its theatrical run. Now I find myself in the rather desirable position of reviewing this title with no real bias hanging over my shoulder—my love for Campion's past work is tempered by the plethora of mediocre-to-poor reviews this film received late last year.

It's not a terrible film. In the Cut has elements that are downright fascinating, not least of which is a new kind of performance from its star—the usually cute-as-a-button Meg Ryan—who plays a sexually charged but frumped-down English teacher crashing lustfully toward the mother of all orgasms. When you watch In the Cut as a character study, it's actually quite involving, and you will have new respect for Ryan as an actress. However, if you watch In the Cut for what it is on the surface—a rather gruesome New York City crime story—it's a mediocre endeavor with glaring flaws right at its center.

Frannie Avery (Meg Ryan) is a dowdy poetry-loving high-school teacher who's actively researching a book about street slang—our first indication that she has a seamy side, or at least desperately wants one. Her half-sister Pauline (a similarly drab Jennifer Jason Leigh), who has the same father but a different mother, lives above a strip club and is something of a sexaholic. Frannie is surrounded by sex, and yet she ain't gettin' any. But when a hideous murder takes place in her neighborhood, she meets a homicide detective named James Malloy (Mark Ruffalo), and things begin to change. Strangely, she seems less interested in the particulars of the murder than in the possibility of a sexual relationship with this unquestionably masculine, gruff cop. With his casual mention that the victim had been "de-articulated," Frannie finds herself undergoing the same thing, metaphorically speaking.

The greatest aspect of In the Cut is this creepy, horny need that consumes Frannie. I found myself completely involved with her as a character—Ryan plays her as almost completely internal, and you can feel the wet desire seeping from her. Under her plain-Jane clothes, she's burning and wanting, and Ryan is unafraid to explore the sexuality inherent in the role. These are her first fearless nude scenes and sexual situations, in which she's lost herself to Frannie. Most impressive, Frannie experiences her slow burn in the midst of a horrific crime investigation, lending an undeniable sinister edge to the proceedings. It goes without saying that the character of Frannie makes In the Cut worth your time.

Less remarkable is the bloody mystery that surrounds her. Based on the novel by Susanna Moore, In the Cut is essentially a hard-boiled crime story. I haven't read the novel, so I can't say whether the thriller elements are more successful there, but in the film, they reek of a director not accustomed to such material. For long stretches, the investigation is forgotten. Indeed, the homicide, and the suggestion that a serial killer is at work, seems like an afterthought—even though it's essential to the story and the characters. Only late in the film do you realize that the killer's modus operandi is essential to the plot. And the resolution of the mystery is that worst of crime-film clichés: Someone in the film—regardless of how unlikely his credentials or motives—is the killer. I can only imagine how powerful the film might have been had its story been at the same level as the characterization of Frannie.

But there are other problems with the film. What, for example, is up with John Graham (an uncredited Kevin Bacon), a wacko med student obsessed with Frannie? The film also seems to short-shrift potentially great characters, such as Frannie's student Cornelius (Sharrieff Pugh) and even Malloy's partner Rodriguez (Nick Damici). The film is so focused on Frannie that it seems to forget about the rest of the characters. The exception is Malloy, who comes to brusque life thanks to Ruffalo but is really merely Frannie's catalyst.

Special mention needs to be made about the haunting, dreamlike cinematography by Dion Beebe, who also worked on Campion's Holy Smoke. He seems to have Campion's strange, dreamy mood thing down, because the look of In the Cut is quite compelling.

This DVD of In the Cut presents the film in its original uncut form, which reintroduces some spicy footage, including a rather startling fellatio shot toward the beginning, in the bar. In the commentary, Campion maintains that the penis is fake. There's also additional footage in the sex scene between Frannie and Malloy.

Columbia/TriStar presents In the Cut in a wonderfully rich anamorphic-widescreen transfer of the film's original 1.85:1 theatrical presentation. Detail is crystal clear—except for the wholly intentional use of a swing-tilt lens during certain scenes. (During these scenes, the edges of the frame are thrown out of focus, leading your eye to the central image and creating a disorienting effect.) Colors are vibrant and boast an almost liquid depth. Blacks are deep, and shadow detail is impressive.

I was particularly impressed by this effort's lack of edge haloing of any kind. On top of that, the image is free of any obvious digital artifacting. And the print itself is absolutely pristine. This is a fine effort.

The disc offers a very good Dolby Digital 5.1 track. True, In the Cut is mostly dialog and ambient sound, but the presentation is quite submersive and even subversive. Perfectly in tune with the atmosphere of the film, the sound puts you in a dreamlike state and right into Frannie's head. Dialog is clear, with no distorted highs, and the score comes across just fine. Surround activity is limited to ambience.

Although the supplements on In the Cut are comparatively sparse, they are (with one exception) put together with thought and care. They definitely enriched my enjoyment of the film. What more can you ask for?

First up is a Director and Producer Commentary, a rather laid-back but quite informative track from Jane Campion and Laurie Parker. This is the first commentary ever recorded by either of these two participants, and they acquit themselves impressively. Although both are soft-spoken—sometimes nearly to the point of whispering—they have a lot to say about the meaning of the film, as well as their original intentions. Without a pause, they discuss such topics as mistaken identities, faulty human memory, and how "everyone's in a private dream." Campion also unabashedly shares an eye-opening anecdote about the key sex scene.

Next is the only dud of the supplements, the 2.5-minute Frannie Avery's Slang Dictionary, which contains hilariously pretentious white-guy narration of about a dozen street-slang words that Frannie might have included in the book she's writing. The narration is accompanied by snippets from the film. Don't waste your time.

The 16-minute In the Cut: Behind the Scenes featurette is a cut above the usual EPK material, if only because it features intelligent input from all the key cast and crew involved in the production—director Jane Campion, producer Laurie Parker, actor Mark Ruffalo, actress Meg Ryan (looking terrific), novelist Susanna Moore, actress Jennifer Jason Leigh, actor Sharrieff Pugh, actor Nick Damici, and production designer David Brisban. The structure is the usual "interviews combined with behind-the-scenes peeks," and takes the time to focus on each cast member in turn, even the minor ones. An interesting revelation is that Ruffalo had suffered a brain tumor months before being cast in In the Cut, and the experience informed his portrayal of his character.

Wrapping things up are Trailers for In the Cut, The Missing, Sin, and Trapped.

In the Cut is a noble failure—fascinating for its lead character and lead performance but hamstrung by its haphazard plotting. The DVD is above average, with pristine image and sound quality and good supplements.