Cage Match: Bad Lieutenant-Port of Call New Orleans (2009)

Cage delivers a performance of erratic brilliance in Herzog’s darkly comedic and unsettling “Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans”

It’s Rage Cage this week. The random number generator gave us the 2008 action thriller Bangkok Dangerous, a remake of the Pang Brothers’ 1999 film of the same name. Cage plays an assassin in this underwhelming tale of redemption that was pretty widely panned by critics, including us. Will we fare any better with the audience pick, the chaotic 2009 Werner Herzog film Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans? Let’s get into it!

IN THIS CORNER: KELLY MINTZER

The Lowdown 

I don’t know, guys. This one is hard for me.

There’s obviously a lot to admire about Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans, from Werner Herzog’s capable direction, to a true Cocaine Cage performance, to an always great Val Kilmer (seriously, does he EVER miss? I can’t think of a time…), to a surprisingly empathetic Eva Mendes role, to a truly inspired setting.

I want to list all of these things because I want it to be clear that I appreciate what works about this movie.

In point of fact, what doesn’t work for this movie—what makes me struggle with it—may not truly be a thing that doesn’t work; it’s a thing that doesn’t work for me. It’s a thing that’s NEVER worked for me, and unfortunately, it’s the central hook of the movie.

That hook is this: We will now spend two hours with a shitty cop abusing his power and behaving badly.

This is the world we live in. The thin blue line brotherhood protects its own, and a lot of truly vile people use a badge to indulge in their worst behavior. It’s not a new trend, but it’s been put into starker relief in recent years, with the advent of digital recordings available to show the public, in real time, the ways that those who are supposed to protect and serve rely on violence and cruelty.

So I can’t take pleasure in seeing Nic Cage use his power and the threat of incarceration to fuck* a woman, while holding her boyfriend at gunpoint and forcing him to watch.

I think maybe Herzog and co. want to comment on the state of policing, and there is something admirable about that. However, it mixes oddly with the sort of pulpy, black humor tone at play.

It all makes me a little queasy—again, not necessarily as a result of poor execution. I’m on the fence about the movie’s intentions, so I’m not prepared to pass that judgment. It’s simply that after so many years of seeing cops being awful in real time, it tastes pretty bitter going down in my fiction.

And then there’s gator-cam, which seems to suggest some pretty lofty pretensions that just don’t quite fit into this movie. 

But to bookend this review with the good, I do sort of dig the bayou-noir feel of the film. I also appreciate the way the movie at least partially examines the impenetrable brotherhood of police—Cage’s dad was a cop, Cage is a cop, it’s basically the fucking mafia.

And it’s a great cast. I’m always absurdly jazzed when Brad Dourif shows up, and he’s doing great, low-key work here. And again, Cage, Mendes, and Kilmer are all giving fine performances.

The Cage Factor:

A lot of people would call this a Cage Fighter; a lot of people love this movie! But my opinion, since you paid your dime for it, is that this is a Cautious Cage. He’s really good in it! And there are pleasures to be found in this movie.

I can’t, however, give it a full-throated endorsement. I’ve gone back and forth on this because, in some ways, it’s a quintessential Cage performance that blends his manic energy with something more sinister and nuanced. But damn, it felt long, and in this, the year of our lord 2025, I have a lot more difficulty spending 2 hours with a white guy getting away with being a piece of shit-hell, being rewarded for it.

AND IN THIS CORNER: STEPHANIE MALONE

The Lowdown 

Werner Herzog’s Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans (2009) is less a remake of Abel Ferrara’s Bad Lieutenant (1992) and more a wild reimagining that ditches Catholic guilt in favor of unhinged chaos. A film as erratic as its drug-addled protagonist, Port of Call is a fever dream of crime, corruption, and reptilian hallucinations—all anchored by one of Nicolas Cage’s most deranged performances.

Set in a post-Katrina New Orleans still reeling from disaster, the film follows Terence McDonagh (Cage), a decorated but deeply corrupt detective spiraling out of control. Saddled with a debilitating back injury, he quickly develops a ravenous painkiller addiction that snowballs into full-blown substance abuse.

As McDonagh investigates the brutal murder of a Senegalese immigrant family, his own moral decay accelerates, leading him down a path of extortion, reckless gambling, and outright insanity.

Herzog, never one for convention, turns what could have been a routine cop thriller into something entirely unpredictable. From surreal iguana close-ups to hallucinatory breakdancing souls, the film exists in its own warped reality.

If Ferrara’s BAD LIEUTENANT was a descent into hell, Herzog’s version is a cocaine-fueled joyride through purgatory.

First, let’s talk about what works. Cage is at his most unhinged, delivering a brilliant orchestration of pandemonium, a precisely calibrated descent into madness.

The film defies genre expectations, lacing a standard crime story with surrealism and dark humor. The now-legendary “shoot him again, his soul’s still dancing” scene is peak Herzogian madness.

Still, it won’t work for all audiences. Unlike typical crime dramas, Port of Call is more concerned with its protagonist’s psychosis than the central mystery. In fact, the plot is often secondary to Cage’s antics, making the mystery feel undercooked. It’s deliberately bizarre, which may alienate viewers expecting a conventional thriller.

It also veers wildly between bleak drama and absurdist comedy, making it hard to pin down.

It’s not a traditional thriller, nor does it follow a clear moral arc. Ultimately, it’s a cinematic oddity, a film that revels in its own strangeness. It’s a testament to the power of Nicolas Cage’s singular talent and Werner Herzog’s unique vision.

If you’re willing to embrace its feverish weirdness, it’s a hypnotic ride into one man’s drug-fueled descent.

The Cage Factor:

If there’s one undeniable reason to watch Port of Call, it’s Nicolas Cage. This isn’t just Cage going big—it’s Cage weaponizing his most bizarre acting instincts into a performance so magnetic, so utterly absurd, that it teeters between brilliance and parody. His McDonagh is a man teetering on the edge of psychosis, his behavior oscillating between menacing, pathetic, and downright cartoonish.

He cackles maniacally, delivers lines with erratic intensity, and brings a jittery physicality that makes every scene unpredictable. One moment, he’s extorting witnesses with a gun; the next, he’s watching imaginary iguanas sing. In lesser hands, McDonagh could have been a joke, but Cage commits so completely to the madness that he elevates the film from crime noir to surrealist character study.

Cage’s manic energy and captivatingly erratic performance turn an already strange film into something unforgettable.