Season of the Witch

Journey with me now, dear faithful, into history back. Before the dark hordes of Murdochian armies set siege upon this once fruitful paradise. Before the petulance, the strife, the hatred and the ignominy seized our characters and laid waste our beautiful, enlightened future. Return with me to the inception of the madness, during the years of the shadowy reign of St. Reagan the Incontinent. A time the ancients place somewhere in the decade of our lord, the 1980s.

There was a young man, a warrior/thespian, a forlorn hope against the blackness of cinematic and cultural despair.

The name Nicolas Cage was on the lips of every villager and liege not already given to misery and disheartenment.

And that name used to mean something in this land.

I will break with this silly, anachronistic parlance of medieval drivel (although the film I will now sort of review never offered that convenience) to state that I, dear god in his immutable heaven, watched the latest Nicolas Cage bubonic plague film, Season of the Witch.

The kid was good early. I would argue that no other young actor of the time (with the exception of Mickey Rourke or Crispin Glover) was stretching the boundaries of film acting quite like him. From Rumble Fish to Racing With the Moon to Birdy to Peggy Sue Got Married to Raising Arizona to Moonstruck to Vampire's Kiss and culminating with Wild at Heart in 1990, there was no single performer who showed a greater impetus to alter the landscape of American film in that desolate time of safe, no surprises cinema.  

I lost my appreciation for Nic Cage in the early '90s. Right around the time my pulmonary valve warned me to stop doing cocaine and the actor himself took a career turn so heinous and diabolical that it should have yellow crime tape cordoning it off.

It is truly difficult to conceive of a fall so sudden, so harsh and so against a promise of greatness and goodwill unless one turns to, oh, well, everyone knows the answer to that fucking analogy.

Yet, we'll be done with Barack Obama in another five years (perhaps one and a half if my candidacy takes flight), but there is seemingly no end in sight to the travesties and dashed hopes that Cage can still inflict upon us. Just imagine the elderly, saccharine pap that awaits as he ungracefully settles into old age. It's going to make On Golden Pond appear deep and edgy.

Now, before I start listing Cage's malfeasances, I would be remiss in not mentioning that I have sincerely liked him on few occasions in the past, oh, 18 years. Red Rock West, Leaving Las Vegas (in particular), Matchstick Men, Lord of War, and The Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call - New Orleans (his sole return to the manic nutcase which made him so palatable) have been ballsy performances that gave us a glimpse of his former magic.

For the prosecution, I offer into evidence exhibits 191 through 207:

Amos & Andrew (1993)

Guarding Tess (1994)

Trapped in Paradise (1994)

The Rock (1996)

Con Air (1997)

Face/Off (1997)

Snake Eyes (1998)

Gone in Sixty Seconds (2000)

The Family Man (2000)

Captain Correlli's Mandolin (2001)

National Treasure (2004)

The Wicker Man (2006)

Ghost Rider (2007)

National Treasure: Book of Secrets (2007)

Bangkok Dangerous (2008)

Knowing (2009)

Drive Angry (2011)

I will put that filmography up against the inhumanity of Pol Pot any day of the week.

So, why, with all this fame and money, selling out like a jailhouse snitch for some cigarettes, has Cage seldom produced, directed or starred in lower budgeted prestige projects? It would seem the absolute opportunity (and excuse) for this abysmal body of work. In 1999, even his old pal from Racing With the Moon, Sean Penn, claimed Nicolas was "no longer an actor".

I do not have the conceit to know why Cage does what he does. I am not in the world of international film stardom or tabloid personalities to have the mindset to understand what a whammy fame can put on a person's skull. But I am curious what it takes for a guy from a prestigious film family (the Coppolas) and a phenomenally daring approach to acting early on in one's career to turn it on its ass and start making what can only be described as absolute, appalling dreck; without a hint of irony, a knowing wink, or a clever, underlying plan.

Was I supposed to be reviewing Season of the Witch?

Okay. Here it is.

Very bad plague film. Filled with all the silly, melodramatic pauses you could imagine. Matched with endless sequences of swordplay and a CGI-crushing lack of imagination and context. Watch Black Death or Flesh + Blood instead and save yourself the unintended horror.

Comments

[jjmitch21]

Yep!

I've been asking myself the same questions about Cage's recent script choices.

Guarding Tess (1994) - it was okay.

Face/Off (1997) - Dumb title, dumb idea, dumb movie!

Gone in Sixty Seconds (2000) - Hate car chase movies unless Steve McQueen is in them.

Bangkok Dangerous (2008) - it was okay.

The Wicker Man (2006) - Disappointing ending.

Ghost Rider (2007) - didn't see it.

National Treasure: Book of Secrets (2007) - so so, but any mid-range actor could have done that movie.

Knowing (2009) - Pretty sure I didn't like it.

Drive Angry (2011) - Haven't seen it yet.

I did like Matchstick Men - I thought it was the best he's done recently.

I even liked his first movie - some teenage badboy in Hollywood - forget the title.

But yeah, most of Cage's recent stuff has sucked pretty bad!

He's also obviously obsessed with Elvis and briefly married Lisa Marie, right?

What can we do?

JM