Use the words “Nicolas Cage” and “good actor” in a sentence and you will not get a good response. He’s one-dimensional, you’ll be told – too earnest, an over-actor. I would disagree. The problem, I think, isn’t with Cage, but with us: when we think of what makes a great actor, we think of those masters of understated, subtle, or nuanced performances; of Pacino, De Niro, or Day-Lewis. But Nicolas Cage isn’t anything like his contemporaries, or predecessors. He sets no store by understatement – everything he does is full-throttle. It doesn’t matter if he’s working with the Coen brothers (Raising Arizona) or voicing a mole called Speckles (G-Force), he will give his all in each and every performance.
This is where the problem lies. It doesn’t really matter that Cage has been in some terrible movies – I can count on one finger the number of good movies starring Robert De Niro from this last decade. The difference is that De Niro can distance himself from his role. His Meet The Fockers character can watch his son-in-law’s foreskin drop into his fondue and react with a detached grimace. Cage would have torn the place up. He is committed to each role, regardless of the script’s quality; this is what his critics call his “over-earnestness”. While on the one hand it can lead to cringe-inducingly passionate performances – Youtube “Nicolas Cage losing his shit” to see what I mean – it is this commitment that produces his best roles. In Face/Off he mutates from lunatic into long-suffering family man; in Adaptation he plays both a shy, neurotic writer and his loud, confident twin.
In both films, the strength is not in Cage’s individual performances, but in how confidently and naturally he switches between them. He fills each character with unique quirks and personality traits, to the point that you would be forgiven for mistaking them for different actors. This is the cornerstone of Cage’s acting talent: his expressiveness. No other actor could convey inner anguish so vividly and consistently. The next time you see a film of his, notice how completely he channels his character through his body movements or facial contortions. Despite the wild flamboyance of his acting, not a single movement is wasted.
You’ll see it in his critically acclaimed works, like Raising Arizona and Leaving Las Vegas, but you’ll also see it in the clunkers. Wicker Man did not sink because of Cage’s performance, it sunk despite it; last year’s Bad Lieutenant would have been unwatchable with a different actor. This is ultimately the problem with Nicolas Cage and his reputation; it is very difficult to separate the actor from the film. It doesn’t matter how powerful his performance, bad writing or directing will ruin any film. Next time you hear Cage’s talents being underappreciated, chances are it is not the man’s acting that was at fault, but his ability to pick a well-written script.