There is a point in Neil LaBute's horrifically misguided remake of The Wicker Man in which Nicolas Cage punches a woman in the face, while dressed as a bear. It was at this point that it became clear that Cage could sink no lower. He's an actor who stars in films with increasingly stupid titles, most of which comprise of two words that have no relation to each other at all (I'm looking at you, Drive Angry). After watching films like Con Air, The Rock and Lord Of War, in which someone clearly mistook woodenness for gravitas, it's hard to argue with those who say that he is an appallingly bad actor.
And yet...
Every so often I'm reminded that he is actually phenomenally good. His Oscar win for Leaving Las Vegas was more than justified, and his performance in Adaptation is one of the best I've ever seen. He seems constantly on the verge of simply collapsing and exploding, and you believe in it completely. He was equally good in 2009's Bad Lieutenant: Port Of Call New Orleans, in which he gave off an air of genuinely unnerving intensity and insanity. It's fitting that the film was directed by Werner Herzog, as there were echoes of the insanely brilliant, or brilliantly insane, Klaus Kinski in Cage's performance. And then there was his scene stealing weirdo father in Kick Ass, arguably the most entertaining part of the film. In fact, up until Leaving Las Vegas Cage had a very promising career, having been put on the map by the Coens with the brilliant Raising Arizona. He'd even managed to save the otherwise dire action film Deadfall by being so ludicrously over the top that he turned it into a comedy.
All this begs the question: what happened to Nicolas Cage? After winning an Oscar did he just decide to agree to any old crap that was thrown his way? Did he have some sort of accident that robbed him of any sense of quality control? Or did he just decide that the money he was being offered was a fair price for squandering his talent? There is a very funny sketch on youtube in which Cage's agent becomes more and more frustrated at his client's inability to say no to any of the increasingly ridiculous film parts offered to him. It's certainly funny, but you suspect that it's worryingly close to the truth. It seems that what Nicolas Cage really needs is a director who knows how to harness him: when to keep him restrained and when to let him rip. The Herzog and Kinski analogy actually fits surprisingly well here. Herzog was able to manipulate Kinski's volatile nature to his advantage to get performances of startling intensity. At his best, and with the right guidance, Cage could give these types of performances. The rest of the time, we'll have to put up with him punching a woman in a bear suit.
