I know, I know, I’m as shocked to be writing this review as you are to see me doing so – after the scraping-through-the-bottom-of-the-barrel debacle that was Rage, I thought I’d finally managed to quit Nicolas Cage for good. But that I still ended up watching Outcast (some of it through my fingers, but still watching it, to my great chagrin) just goes to show that the actor is as damnably, despicably addictive as Twinkies or Doritos, with a slightly broader dramatic range. As amusingly bad as he is (and oh is he terrible) in all these direct-to-vod pics, Cage is like a car crash in slow motion – as much as I want to, I just can’t look away.
Fortunately for the actor, Cage isn’t exactly the one false note in an otherwise euphonious symphony. A case could be made that the performer is simply playing to his surroundings.
Fortunately for the actor, Cage isn’t exactly the one false note in an otherwise euphonious symphony. A case could be made that the performer is simply playing to his surroundings.
- 2/5/2015
- by Isaac Feldberg
- We Got This Covered
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