There are two types of Nicolas Cage films.
The first is the big Hollywood production where he is shoehorned into the Hollywood action role in much the way a Sir-Mixalot approved ass is shoehorned into a pair of jeans that are four sizes too small. You may be able to make it work, but the bulges are visible and the end result is not particularly interesting or desirable.
The second kind is where someone says. Nicholas is pretty fucked up. I'm pretty fucked up. Let's make a fucking movie! From here arises such fare as Kick-Ass, Bad Lieutenant Port of Call New Orleans (with Werner Oedipal gerund Herzog no less) and today's film review subject- Drive Angry.
Make no mistake, this is not a good film. The only way it would get an Oscar is if it stole it - and that would only to be to beat someone to death with it, use it as a sex toy; weld the dented, fluid stained remainder to the front of an engine-heavy performance car as a hood ornament and drive off into the sunset. It is an exploitation film - and entirely unapologetic about it, reveling in boobs, blood, car chases, and vehicular manslaughter.
The plot is simple and straightforward. Cage drives out of hell with a mystic shotgun to save his infant granddaughter from being killed be a cult leader. He is up against the cult, and 'the accountant' a heavenly (or hellish) collection agent, who is tasked with dragging his nasty ass back to pits. Take a chunk of the Crow, sprinkle liberally with Steve McQueen, kick the amp up to 11 and add guns, titties and a villain performance that can only be described as 'A young Tommy Lee Jones channels Elvis' and you have 105 minutes of pure B Movie pleasure.
Cage grunts, growls and shoots his way through the titular role; he is joined by a serviceable female lead (who in a nice genre defying touch remains un-serviced by the protagonist) who is just as angry as he is. The villain plays his role perfectly, and his minions are a contemptible lot who are crying out for a shot-gun-bumper-9mm-whatever-the-hell-is-handy date with destiny. The standout performance is 'The Accountant' the supernatural collection agent who steals every scene he is in. An immaculate badass in a Hugo boss suit. Oh and the cars should be on the cast as well - this movie loves its four wheeled protagonists - who despite not having any lines have more character and impact than the whole cast of the three recent transformer movies.
The violence is loud and gory, the sex is loud and not to be interrupted by something as trivial as 20 satanic meat sacks in need of ventilation and there are multiple moments of epic coolness.
Easily one of the better films I have seen this year - or at least among the most entertaining. If you see it cheap in the used bin, it is worth $5.00 of your hard earned.
Shayne
The first is the big Hollywood production where he is shoehorned into the Hollywood action role in much the way a Sir-Mixalot approved ass is shoehorned into a pair of jeans that are four sizes too small. You may be able to make it work, but the bulges are visible and the end result is not particularly interesting or desirable.
The second kind is where someone says. Nicholas is pretty fucked up. I'm pretty fucked up. Let's make a fucking movie! From here arises such fare as Kick-Ass, Bad Lieutenant Port of Call New Orleans (with Werner Oedipal gerund Herzog no less) and today's film review subject- Drive Angry.
Make no mistake, this is not a good film. The only way it would get an Oscar is if it stole it - and that would only to be to beat someone to death with it, use it as a sex toy; weld the dented, fluid stained remainder to the front of an engine-heavy performance car as a hood ornament and drive off into the sunset. It is an exploitation film - and entirely unapologetic about it, reveling in boobs, blood, car chases, and vehicular manslaughter.
The plot is simple and straightforward. Cage drives out of hell with a mystic shotgun to save his infant granddaughter from being killed be a cult leader. He is up against the cult, and 'the accountant' a heavenly (or hellish) collection agent, who is tasked with dragging his nasty ass back to pits. Take a chunk of the Crow, sprinkle liberally with Steve McQueen, kick the amp up to 11 and add guns, titties and a villain performance that can only be described as 'A young Tommy Lee Jones channels Elvis' and you have 105 minutes of pure B Movie pleasure.
Cage grunts, growls and shoots his way through the titular role; he is joined by a serviceable female lead (who in a nice genre defying touch remains un-serviced by the protagonist) who is just as angry as he is. The villain plays his role perfectly, and his minions are a contemptible lot who are crying out for a shot-gun-bumper-9mm-whatever-the-hell-is-handy date with destiny. The standout performance is 'The Accountant' the supernatural collection agent who steals every scene he is in. An immaculate badass in a Hugo boss suit. Oh and the cars should be on the cast as well - this movie loves its four wheeled protagonists - who despite not having any lines have more character and impact than the whole cast of the three recent transformer movies.
The violence is loud and gory, the sex is loud and not to be interrupted by something as trivial as 20 satanic meat sacks in need of ventilation and there are multiple moments of epic coolness.
Easily one of the better films I have seen this year - or at least among the most entertaining. If you see it cheap in the used bin, it is worth $5.00 of your hard earned.
Shayne