The Task: Watch and write about every movie on my shelf, in order (Blu-rays are sorted after DVDs), by June 10, 2015. Remaining movies: 298 Days to go: 284
Movie #79: The Cutting Edge
“Toe pick!”
That’s the extended gag everyone remembers from this movie (and with good cause — a taunting yet singsong-y “toe pick” followed by maniacal laughter is a dig I wish I could work more often into my everyday life), but The Cutting Edge is so much more. From start to finish, it’s a solidly funny, witty and successful romantic comedy.
Our two leads are Kate Moseley and Doug Dorsey (Moira Kelly and D.B. Sweeney), Olympians at the 1988 Winter Games in Calgary. Kate is a pairs figure skater with a chip on her shoulder and Doug is a hockey player (back when U.S. Olympic hockey meant college-level amateurs). They both suffer devastating defeats in Calgary and come together two years later when Kate’s coach Anton Pamchenko (Roy Dotrice), unable to find Kate a suitable partner, “find[s] another barrel” and seeks out Doug.
Having watched The Cutting Edge dozens upon dozens of times (in the theater, on VHS, on TV, on DVD, etc.), I’ve thought extensively about what makes it work so well and why I keep coming back to it time and again, and I’ve come to several conclusions on the matter. The definitive reasons The Cutting Edge is so great are as follows:
1. Banter Is Sexy.
The key to their relationship (and their sizzling chemistry) is the abrasiveness of their interactions. Both Kate and Doug are experts at the doling out of sick burns — and Anton is no slouch — but it’s never as malicious as one might think. The cuts are all deftly delivered and register at peak cleverness, giving them an air of playfulness and mental competition that is fun and inviting rather than hurtful. As Kate’s soon-to-be-ex fiance Hale (Dwier Brown) finally realizes, Kate and Doug’s witty repartee is a form of foreplay, tantalizing and tempting with its promise of electric sexual response. It’s a tactic that keeps both the characters’ and the audience’s pulses elevated with anticipation. Indeed, all the men I have ever been truly attracted to in my life have been the ones who were quick-thinking and funny in a way that both challenged and excited me, their cleverness almost always multiplying their handsome and sexy quotients by a factor of ten.
2. Give Them A Goal.
Characters with purpose are always more interesting than characters without purpose, but the place where a lot of romantic comedies fail is that their leads don’t have anything driving them beyond their own love lives. Something like 27 Dresses (which I like, but which is, at best, a middling romantic comedy) puts too much weight on the thwarted romantic feelings of Katherine Heigl’s Jane. She doesn’t really have anything else that she’s striving for. The Cutting Edge doesn’t do that. Doug suffered a serious injury in Calgary and lost all chance at a professional hockey career, so he has a lot to prove — to himself, to his brother, to Kate’s father Jack (Terry O’Quinn) and most especially to Kate. He needs the gold medal, and he needs to get it on his terms. Nothing less will do. Kate, meanwhile, has her own things to prove. She’s lived in this competitive figure skating world her whole life, and always falling short of the prize has left her with the reputation (outside of the shelter of her own house, at least) of not being a closer, of not having the killer instinct. She hates that and hates disappointing her father almost as much as she hates feeling obligated to skate. She’s torn apart by the conflicting emotions inside her, but she’s also proud and she will be damned before she lets anyone believe they got the better of her. Kate stakes her reputation on Doug’s abilities; Doug stakes his on the idea that this endeavor is more taxing and requires more skill and determination than hockey ever did. And they all, Anton included, go for broke on the back of an impossible move (“Leegano, ni leegano. Is gray area.”) that could blow the competition away.
3. Make Them Unavailable.
Yes, Kate has a boyfriend/fiance for part of the film. And yes, Doug has a one-night stand with another skater. But the real thing that keeps them apart is their pride (and also the entirety of their relationship up to the point Kate no longer has a fiance). The most devastating part of the film is the argument they have after a celebratory night of drinking. Kate and Hale are over thanks to his foreplay revelation. Kate’s inhibitions are lowered and she’s giving in to her feelings for Doug, but she’s drunk and he doesn’t want to take advantage of her. Unfortunately his circumspection reads to her as chastisement and she’s insulted that someone who has been so bold and arrogant about his dalliances (and his talent in the bedroom) would reject her so soundly. She attacks him for this, which only manages to get his dander up about her condescending treatment of him since they met. He feels punished for trying to do the right thing, and she can’t bear him to see her so vulnerable. It’s a rift that’s built entirely on the personalities and perspectives of each character, rather than something silly and manufactured that could be easily resolved. There is no easy resolution to this, and that’s what makes it so effective at being a true obstacle to happiness.
4. Don’t Get Bogged Down In Unnecessary Crap.
The Cutting Edge is 101 minutes long and approximately 68% montage. Accompanied by a peppy ’80s soundtrack, there’s a hockey montage, a drinking montage, a sulking montage and at least four training montages. The emotional notes are told in images rather than weighed down by full-fledged scenes. Early training montages show their heightened competition with one another, each trying to one-up the other in an ever-escalating contest of who can get up the earliest, run the fastest, or get to the rink first, while the later ones show them coming together as a pair with a common goal. The iconic toe pick montage shows up here too, pitting them as rivals within their own partnership and allowing for the hugely satisfying moment when Doug can finally keep up with Kate’s icy acrobatics. There’s also a conditioning montage to show how difficult and extensive the work is — requiring strength training and ballet and cardio, which all take a painful toll on the body. The hockey montage is another opportunity to showcase their shared rivalry, like the toe pick one, only this time Doug is the one who has the upper hand and Kate is the one who is taken down a peg only to eventually get the better of him. These two sequences in particular portray the characters as equals — neither one is a sad sack longing for validation. They are both highly skilled at what they do, and they both have the ability to compete with the other. The drinking montage, meanwhile, is my favorite thing ever. Kate’s skeptical yet enthusiastic consumption of tequila is one of the best alcohol-related scenes ever filmed, and it’s directly responsible both for my propensity to drink tequila in college and my insistence on drinking it in exactly this way, with the “training wheels” (I found out later they were called this by bartenders) of salt before and lemon after. I also wanted to party like Kate, always, dancing with fervor and abandon whenever I had the chance. The most heartbreaking, though, is the sulking montage, after their disappointing Olympic short program, when Kate and Doug and Jack and Anton have a huge fight over who’s to blame for their shortcomings, whether or not they will perform the Pamchenko Twist, and if they even have a shot at winning anymore. Kate tearfully admits her role in the faults — not just of this season but of her whole career — and apologizes to them all. Then Doug takes a moody walk and winds up in a cafe with canoodling lovers in the background (there are always canoodling lovers in the background of a sulking montage) and Kate mournfully sits atop her windowsill wearing the Bobby Hull sweater Doug gave her for Christmas. It’s a subtle move, but it tells you everything about where her heart is at and how she feels. And it’s really using this visual medium to its full advantage, making images tell the story on their own.
5. Use Interesting Actors.
I could write a hundred sonnets on the expressiveness of Moira Kelly’s eyes in this film — drinking tequila, looking over her sunglasses into Doug’s hotel room, blowing hair out of her face in a confrontation with Hale, and on and on — and all of the bit parts are played by people who bring out a certain depth of character in even the smallest role: Gita the Olympic Village girl is confused then exasperated by Doug. Rick the former coach is patronizing and exacting. Brian the former partner is a saucy professional. Lorie the rival has that good girl/bad girl essence about her — a sweet exterior with a naughty center. And the girl who works in Doug’s brother’s bar is the best as she evolves from young and crushing on Doug, to womanly and making a pass at him, to mature and in a happy relationship with his brother. They are all really, really great, but the true gems are the extras that fill out heavily populated scenes. These are all people with no lines whatsoever and only serve to provide reaction shots to various things. The other skaters, the photographers, and one guy in a USA cowboy hat as Kate flips up her skirted costume at Rick all register somewhere on the scale from shocked to amused (all the Olympic spectators in general do well to represent the fierce patriotism and passion of The Games). The older woman who exuberantly kisses Doug full on the mouth at the crazy formal New Year’s Eve party is delightfully surprising. The little girl who witnesses Doug’s pre-performance jitters, shall we say, makes one of the funniest and truest faces of disgust anyone has ever seen. The blonde at the front of the group waiting for the elevator when Kate runs off and Doug is left in nothing but a towel opts to go for a giggly reaction rather than stunned or horrified at this humiliating display. And the face on the Olympic coordinator trying to get Kate and Doug on the ice for their final performance when Doug makes his grand admission of love is nothing short of priceless. A lot of the scenes feature Kate and Doug exclusively, which certainly helps streamline the film, but there’s a lot to be said for using really interesting actors for the smaller roles to help give the universe of the film a lot more heft.
6. Delay Gratification.
The New Year’s Eve party (occurring near the mid-point of the film) is the first time Kate and Doug seem to recognize an attraction between them, and it would be a perfect opportunity for them to kiss politely, then warmly, slowly realizing the heat between them. That doesn’t happen. They awkwardly peck each other on the cheek instead. They don’t kiss, even drunkenly, at the bar either. It isn’t until the final moments of the final scene, after all the montages and all the bantering and all the friction, that Doug reveals his feelings. It’s a beautiful moment, with Kate and me both in happy tears, but the movie delays gratification again. Instead of her reciprocating his love and embracing him before they triumphantly perform their winning final skate, she wipes her tears and puts the Pamchenko Twist back in the program. Confused and defensive he argues with her in whispers (again, some more) about the feasibility and wisdom of this move. When he asks what difference it makes now, whether they perform it or not, she throws back a line he gave her earlier in their relationship: “I’m in the mood to kick a little ass.” Full of love and joy for her and this answer, he smiles, and they skate what we are led to assume is the perfect long program with a successful and stunning Pamchenko Twist at the end. It’s only at that point that he asks her why she had to do it, and she admits she loves him. One last quip, “Just remember who said it first,” and then — only then, in those very last seconds — do they kiss. It’s the perfect final note of a perfect romantic comedy.
And that, kids, is how you do it.
Viable Option 