'The Cut' fails to fulfill its promise

 Boxing movies are a Hollywood mainstay. They can include underdog hits such as Rocky or they might be classified as redemptive character studies a la Raging Bull. 

 In my view, the best boxing movies sweat with seedy atmosphere, exposing the boxing world as one full of traps. Fighters often become victims of their egos, scrappers making last-ditch attempts to preserve what's left of their self-respect. (Body and Soul, 1947).

  Don't take the above as anything more than an outline of my preferences re: boxing movies, but know that The Cut tends toward the latter category. Although far from a classic, the movie gives Orlando Bloom an opportunity for a deep immersion performance that pushes him past his work in movies such as Lord of the Rings or Pirates of the Caribbean.

    Aided by a hefty make-up job, Bloom sheds the trappings of big-screen fantasy, playing an Irish pug who blew his chance for ring glory, perhaps because he couldn't muster the will to win.  Bloom's emotionally damaged character wants to challenge fate, reclaiming his shot at a life-changing moment he failed to meet.

    When we meet The Boxer (that's how he's listed in the credits), he's working at a gym with the woman who once trained him (Caitriona Balfe). They teach kids to box and live modestly until a slick promoter (Gary Beadle) offers The Boxer a chance to substitute for a fighter in a Vegas match. He's flown to the US and begins his short-notice preparation for the bout.

    For most of the movie, The Boxer battles his own body. He arrives in Vegas weighing more than 180 pounds. To compete as a lightweight, he must hit 154 pounds. He has a week to make weight, to make himself lean.

    Enter Boz (John Turturro), a maniacal specialist in helping fighters shed pounds. Boz's arrival sets up a conflict between the unethical Boz and Caitlin, whose love for The Boxer means she'd rather not see him endanger his life with insane workouts, rigorous dieting, sweat sessions,  drugs, and other forms of bodily torment.

     Bloom tries to wring every ounce of determination, doubt, and persistence from a role that's probably his grittiest to date.

     Grabs for atmospheric authenticity only carry the movie so far, and the narrative is disrupted by quick flashbacks to the boxer's childhood relationship with his prostitute mother. 

    Director Sean Ellis avoids showing us the climactic battle for which The Boxer has been preparing.  Ellis may have wanted to keep his movie from being decked by genre cliches. Instead, he relies on a disturbing bit of weight reduction that underscores The Boxer's already established mania. 

    The Cut carefully details The Boxer's bodily tortures, but scenes of his punishing physical regimen also tend to wear the movie out, like a boxer with a limited repertoire  of punches. Considering all the food deprivation The Boxer experiences, the whole thing could have been called  "Starving Bull."

      

‘Gran Turismo’ races on a formulaic track

       

     If I weren't writing about films, I doubt whether I’d see Gran Turismo: Based on a True Story,  the real-life tale of a young man who made the shift from an expert player of a popular car racing game to the high-speed world of the track.

     Gran Turismo probably will have its greatest appeal among those who spend hours trying to excel at PlayStation's popular pastime, which was invented by Japanese designers who spent years giving the game an astonishing degree of versimilitude.

       So what about the rest of us, those who don't play video games and who aren't especially interested in sports car racing?

        I guess the surprise is that Gran Turismo is watchable while being predictable. The movie makes little attempt to dig beneath the surface or say anything we haven't heard before -- and still manages to cross the finish line without being disqualified.

    Put another way, the movie is OK.

       Director Neill Blomkamp (District 9, Elysium) tell the story of Jann Mardenborough (Archie Madekwe), a kid who grew up in Cardiff playing Gran Turismo and dreaming of driving real races cars. 

     Working-man Dad (Djimon Hounsou) thinks Jann should continue his education. Mom (Geri Horner) seems more supportive. Jann's brother (Daniel Puig) ... well ... he's in the movie, too.

        Jann might have continued drifting and dreaming if it hadn't been for a slick promoter (Orlando Bloom) who sells Nissan on the idea of sponsoring GT Academy, a facility where talented gamers would be trained to drive real race cars. 

        Initially reluctant, a former driver turned chief engineer (David Harbour) agrees to train the young crew. No one else wants the job.

         The idea is that the game requires so much skill that the best sim drivers, as they're called, could make the transition from gaming cafes and isolated bedrooms to professional tracks.

         At two hours and 15 minutes, Gran Turismo doesn't skimp on training montages and racing footage as Jann progresses, eventually competing to earn his license as a professional driver while facing opposition from an arrogant driver (Josha Stradowski) who believes Jann's lack of experience will endanger other drivers.

         Obvious questions roar through the plot as loudly as the movie’s cars. Will Jann wash out or will he become a professional driver and, ultimately, a winner? Will Dad, a stern man who played soccer and who hasn't supported his son's ambition, eventually come around? Can the movie accommodate more product placements?

          As a failed driver who couldn't overcome a tragic incident in his past, Harbour gives his character old-pro flavor. The rest of the performances are up to snuff.

      It's unfair to criticize a movie such as Gran Turismo for being formulaic. There’s reassurance in familiarity. You can even anticipate some of the dialogue before the characters open their mouths.

         Of all the racing footage — much of it convincing — a crash in which Jann's car becomes almost vertical on the track  proves difficult to watch.  And Blomkamp ingeniously shows how Jann's mind works, turning real cars into blueprints of their game versions while driving on real tracks.

        Gran Turismo's B-movie plot doesn't mesh with what seem to be grander ambitions. The resultant movie suffers when it tries to inflate Jann's achievement into a broader endorsement of the kind of  bromides in which movies specialize. Dreams can become real. Stuff like that.

        Gran Turismo is best when it drives in its own narrow lane and doesn't try to turn Jann's story into a cheering session for every underdog.