National Treasure, My Ass

Nicolas Cage and I have a weird relationship.

I cringe at the sight of him. He pretends I don’t exist. It’s weird. Like we dated once and had a bad break-up.

There’s some truth to that. I loved the Cageman in Moonstruck.

Just watching him lose it completely was awe inspiring. “I lost my hand! I lost my bride! Johnny has his hand! Johnny has his bride.”

Here, watch if you are so inclined.
But since then? Everything he’s done leaves me flat. His face doesn’t move. He is bored and unenthusiastic – very nonplussed – very aging wannabe hipster. I feel like he is phoning in all of his performances. Because they are all the same.

It’s like he’s got his own personal shorthand. “There’s a dramatic moment?” he says to himself. “Right, got it. Stare down, take a deep breath, than slowly raise my head to stare off into the distance stage left.”

When he wants to challenge himself, I imagine he switches it up some. And stares into the distance stage right instead.

The fact that this man makes millions, then slouches around blowing it on dinosaur skulls instead of paying his taxes infuriates me.

He’s not particularly good looking. He phones in every performance. So why then, is he still being cast? Which devil did he sell his soul to? Because I don’t think even the normal old Satan would touch that mess with a 10 foot pole. He has to have some specialized, extra creepy devil who he did his back door deal with.

If he doesn’t go back to the good ol’ Moonstruck vibe with the crazy hair and the eyes that actually focus on something.

Otherwise he should be Gone in 60 seconds, for real.