The Nicolas Cage Experience

Every so often, maybe twice a year, I'll find myself amidst the age-old question with a close circle of friends--I'm talking one of the big questions, among the stuff of 'Is there a God?' or 'Does existence have a purpose?' or 'Can a man transcend reality?'--I'm talking about the question that keeps us all up at night: Is Nicolas Cage a good actor?

The overwhelming response to this question is No, even Hell no or Shit no or God no, and other variations of the phrase. In defense of this argument, Cage has done about one million movies, so the odds of him demonstrating his chops--in impressive and well thought-out and depth-deep roles--are not great.

But he does have a handful of roles in films which are themselves scratching upon the realm of something very special, and his ability and effort as an actor greatly attribute to these shrines.

Contained in his canon is the hillbillly clownish and good-hearted convict in Raising Arizona, an alcoholic writer who can’t quit the shakes, depression or off-putting punchlines and is determined to die in Leaving Las Vegas. He plays a set of twins in Adaptation, whose personalities are extreme opposites, one a nervous wreck and borderline genius and one who is as dumb as he is outgoing and loveable. In David Lynch’s Wild at Heart he is a man on the run, wearing a snakeskin jacket that nobody else on earth could pull off as he sings just like Elvis and finally he is the perfectly slick and jerkish titular character in the very underrated film, The Weatherman. Of course, my childhood could not have been complete without Con Air, with Cage delivering one of the greatest lines in cinema history, “Put the bunny back in the box.”

Andy Samberg portrayed him on an SNL sketch, called 'Get in the Cage with Nic Cage' where actors come on to discuss their craft. Throughout the skit, repeated weekly for some time, Cage talks with Paul Rudd and Jude Law and Bradley Cooper, and then finally, as only Nic Cage could, has himself on as a guest. They practice an exercise of eastern inspired meditation in which they pay each other compliments, to steady their nerves and find the essence of being.

"Nic, I love your charisma." 

"Nic, I love your lions' heart." 

"Nic, I love your sense of humor, dry and marbled like a quality beefsteak. No A1 steak sauce for this jester, for the tangy flavor rises from within." 

"That's high praise." They conclude, both Nic Cage as well as Nic Cage, that they must continue on to their next endeavor, having a three-way with the Declaration of Independence. It's true American art only matched, maybe, by the talents of someone like Marlin Brando or Philip Seymour Hoffman.

But I'll rest my case with one of the millions of movies in which he stars that people will use as an example to say he's not good, with a moment from Vampire's Kiss. I have no idea what the movie is about and I doubt I'll ever watch it, but there is a scene that can be looked up on YouTube where he sits in the office of one of his bosses and he's in a real bad way, confused and depressed.

Somebody in the company had forgotten to file a contract, and so the contract is forever unattainable, and the consequences are apparently detrimental. Cage's character is in shock and reveals through perfect acting, an expression that his life is over.

In discussing the issue with his boss, he starts out calm, "If a company makes a copy of every single contract, and puts it in the appropriate file, then shouldn't the copy be in the file." His boss acknowledges he's right, and he says, "It should, right? Yup, yup...yup, yup, yup," he says, leaning back in great contemplation.

When his boss suggests that sometimes a contract can be misfiled, the patience of Cage's character explodes like a motorcycle going from 0-100 in two seconds. He demands who could've misfiled it and the demand goes unanswered. "How could somebody misfile something," Cage's character says. "It's all alphabetical." He stands up, his hand gestures appear as they're trying to manically compose an orchestra. In psychotic genius, he goes off, "A,B,C,D,E,F,G,H,I,J,K." Then he starts clapping his hands together, yelling at this point, shaking his head up and down in spasms, "L,M,N,O." On the letter P, he gets interrupted but doesn't miss a beat, speaking even the louder, pointing his fingers at his boss in the shape of guns, wild arms all over the place. "Q,R,S,T,U,V." Finally, he closes it out in the image of a man undergoing religious exorcism. "W,X,Y,Z! Huh! That's all you have to Do!" And like a child falsely accused of something, he pleads, in the desperation of dying, "I've never misfiled anything! NOT ONCE!"

The performance is hilarious and epic and made to be watched and re-watched, over and over again. It personifies him as an actor, unleashed and raw and talented. So while you don't necessarily have to admit he's a good actor, you still cannot deny, that Nicolas Cage, at his very best, gives a performance to be experienced in all of its wild emotion.