It is an inevitability that every film buff must touch on the great and storied career of the triumph and glory that is Nicolas Cage. We’ve touched on the majesties this maestro among thespians has wrought, but it’s about time I took a wider look at his range, especially now that he has chosen to descend from Olympus to bring us a new picture. Is it not said that when God created the Cage, he took an extra long weekend off, knowing He couldn’t possibly ever top that shit?
But seriously, few others can lay claim to a filmography as varied and funky as Cage’s—from the legitimately good like Lord of War and Pig, to the weird and wonderful like Mandy, to…oh, you just wait. Me, I intend to look upon a sampling of some of the different examples of fine Cage Rage we have to choose from, starting with another look at David Lynch at the same time, with Wild At Heart. And before anyone asks, no, I’m not going to do the Wicker Man remake. Not the bees indeed.
Anyhoo. Today’s subject was something Lynch was working on while taking a break from Twin Peaks, based on the book by Barry Gifford. I saw it once years ago and had mixed feelings about it—has it improved any or is it one of Lynch’s lesser entries as I initially felt?
The plot at least is fairly straightforward—Cage plays rebellious southern outlaw Sailor, who decides to hit the road with lover Lula (Laura Dern)—and the latter’s mother, Dianne Ladd, doesn’t take too kindly to that. What involves is part romance, part crime film, part black comedy as Sailor and Lula end up tangling with the ne’er do wells and gangsters involved in the hunt for them, with Elvis songs and metal concerts in between.
It definitely sounds like a good trip on paper, and it starts off well enough, with Cage clearly feeling very…exuberant in his role here, and we wouldn’t have it any other way. Between fights with hitmen, lovemaking in motels, and over the top drawls, it’s not like there’s nothing to enjoy, but the cracks soon start to show a little. The script doesn’t seem sure how seriously it’s taking itself, feeling at times like a rough draft of someone trying to partly mimic Tarantino (a couple of years before Tarantino got started though)—early on, Sailor and Lula have a casual conversation that veers around from rape to climate change. You know, as people talk. There’s glimmers of that Lynchian madness he did so well in Blue Velvet and Eraserhead, but it just leaves you wanting a little bit more.
Thankfully, if you’re looking for some decent dosage of Cage, we do get that at least. He’s clearly having fun as the devil may care young tearaway, and his character is apparently just so forceful he can interrupt a Powermad Concert to croon Elvis love songs, which becomes a theme here. Because metalheads would of course love their gig being broken up by fifties rockabilly. And of course we get to see Cage’s idea of getting down on the dance floor, which apparently involves mixing ‘doing the Bruce Lee’ with ‘catastrophic seizure’. Which to be fair is a level of dancing I can relate to.
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| I reacted the same way when the Oscars snubbed him for Ghost Rider. |
Later on we do start to pick up with some better examples of Lynch’s style—one of my favorite scenes is where Isabella Rossellini, returning from Blue Velvet with a leather punk style this time around, torments one of the criminals sent after our young couple. I’ll also give the credit that Lynch does follow a decent color theme throughout the film of red and fire, reflecting I guess the passion of our lover protagonists. However, there’s another, far looser, running theme with Wizard of Oz references which…erm…kinda sort of work, if you step back fifty meters and squint, assuming I guess Lula is meant to be Dorothy, or something? Yeah, trying to figure out Lynch is part of the fun I know, but it feels more shoehorned when you have someone just mention Toto and Glinda for no real reason.
Cage is soon joined by Willem Defoe, which sounds great—though Defoe here is given a look that apparently crosses a hillbilly with a John Waters caricature, and the prosthetic teeth he’s wearing sure don’t help matters. There’s one disturbing scene he does a decent job in, but this ain’t really Defoe in Spider-Man if I’m being honest, much less The Lighthouse. I suppose he gets the job done well enough, but once again, it leaves me wishing for just a teensy bit more.
And that’s Wild At Heart in a nutshell—it certainly has its moments, but I am reaffirmed that it’s not one of Lynch’s best efforts. Still, for Cage action, it suffices, but truthfully, with this one, we’re only just getting warmed up. Next time, we jump ahead further into the nineties with only the best kind of delightful nonsense we love him for—and some of you might have already guessed what’s coming up…
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