Swartacus’s review published on Letterboxd:
“I need to talk to someone about my beautiful Mariners.”
A devil's quandary filtered through slide show polaroid bursts. The splendid fish eye sedan dreams of a half psychic and a few half men. But mostly just a long con from a long legged loon. Something tapped me on the shoulder and I saw Robert Smigel doing Clutch Cargo on that Bill Clinton picture on the wall of the cop shop. Are we known as time travelers by the Presidents which adorn our walls? Are they all so hilarious that we cannot unsee them? Hark what yonder window brings the demon? Cage is here to shit in your Cheerios and leave a turd in the punch bowl.
“Our prayers protect us from the devil.”
Very 90s Fincher at times while still holding on to the last ace in the deck. Some noir elements rustle through the frame like dusty, disheveled leaves. Shafts of light pierce the fragile unease as we open up and say ahhhhh. These snake charmers do their work with an unwanted joie de vivre.
Can we talk about Marc Bolan’s top hat on the cover of T. Rex’s The Slider? What in the actual fuck. It’s like Lord Helmet’s helmet. I'm pretty sure "Producer" Nic Cage read the script, looked up quizzically for a moment and said "Eureka!" this character is "Marc Bolan's hat" and I shall play him as such. The barbaric severity and tone of the film are broken up by hilarious Bill Clinton and Marc Bolan pictures adorning various walls. That meets me where I am and brings me joy.
Cage doing the cuckoo clock made my millennium. He is simply delicious here. A scary, scummy, kabuki debutante all gussied up for a demented Sadie Hawkins soirée. Unfortunately nobody remembered to ask him to the dance, so he performatively and sanctimoniously bangs his head into a locker for attention. I oblige him and honor his immaculate demon work in what isn’t much more than a silent lamb sleight of hand. A left field inebriated parlor trick. It’s fancy and obscene and the gore fits the mood of the times.
Not many films have given me the yips like Strange Darling and Longlegs did this year. Their egregious anti-horror real world brutalism is such a tonic to the endless firehose of regurgitated IP in television, film and commercials (yes even the ones that play at Kwik Trip gas pumps). This endless winking stream of mediocrity is exhausting and I dig how films like these attempt to deflect unabated nostalgia. Yet at the same time, their worlds still use new twists and turns that are informed by the past vs. just attempting to "teach" a younger generation about the good 'ol days through pure mimicry. It's so well done and a refreshing sight for sore eyes.