Cage Match: Rage (2014)

The title “Rage” represents Cage’s grieving father, but it’s more descriptive of the fury you’ll feel watching the irredeemable mess.

IN THIS CORNER: KELLY MINTZER

The Lowdown 

God, I fucking hate this movie. I’m writing this from the trenches of Rage, and as of right now, the name feels apt because I’m absolutely seething with it. This movie is everything I hate: disgusting, dripping, reeking machismo. Someone’s diseased notion of masculinity as little more than a veiny cock shooting its viscous, self-celebratory jizz all over everyone.

I guess we’re supposed to think Nic Cage is some sort of devoted dad, bad guy turned good, but honestly, he sucks. His whole “men are men because they’re ready to be violent for women, but also, let’s make sure we never treat these women like actual people” thing is vaguely nauseating. The movie wants us to believe that Nic Cage is a loving father to his daughter, but it doesn’t show us that, though it yells it often enough. But there’s a reason for the phrase “showing, not telling.” All we see is him giving her SAT prep books and treating her more like he’s a stern tutor than a dedicated dad.

And then there’s the truly vile moment where he tells a teenage boy a) that he beat a man with a tire iron for calling his wife a slut because “that’s what men do” and b) that the same teenage boy should have been willing to take a bullet for his daughter. This is a child. A child he is talking to. A CHILD.

Add in some really icky feeling, casually tossed off racism that isn’t intended to turn our stomachs, and you’ve got a real piece of shit movie.

But wait, there’s fucking more.

Cage’s associates from his criminal past are supposed to be his helpful posse, and I guess we’re supposed to feel some sort of reverence for their brotherhood or whatever bullshit. But we see these two men put a noose around an innocent woman’s neck, throw an attached cinder block out the window, and then treat it like a joke when her boyfriend turns out to have nothing to do with Cage’s daughter’s disappearance.

These are bad people. Am I talking about the characters or the people who wrote this movie? You decide.

If you’re wondering why I’m not getting too deeply into the plot of this movie, it’s because it’s basically an idiot’s version of Mystic River. It honestly feels like a massive insult to that particular brilliantly felt and beautifully wrought film to make the comparison, but it’s such an obvious rip-off.

Take all the nuance and character development, all the carefully felt moments and delicate world-building out of the equation completely, photocopy the plot ten or so times, take a picture of that last photocopy, scan it through a low res scanner, and then just draw a bunch of penises on it, and you’ve got Rage.

The Cage Factor:

This is a Rat in a Cage in every possible sense of the phrase. The movie around him is offensively terrible, but honestly, so is Nicolas Cage. The greatest defense I can provide for him in this movie is that he seems bored… there’s no way he read this script and actively engaged with it (a sample line, if you think I’m exaggerating: “How deep do you want to take this?” “How deep is hell?”. You can almost see the screenwriter high-fiving themself, and good god, it’s a shitty line).

Unfortunately, this is a performance that has a very readily available, high-profile counterpoint. Sean Penn rightfully won an Oscar for his performance in Mystic River. Whatever Nicolas Cage is doing in this, the movie equivalent of Diet Mr. Pibb, is painful to see, especially after the raw and gorgeous emotion Penn brought to functionally the same role.

AND IN THIS CORNER: STEPHANIE MALONE

The Lowdown 

Rage is a painfully misguided thriller that does everything it can to waste Nicolas Cage, one of Hollywood’s most unique and explosive talents. Known for his erratic, unpredictable performances that veer between high drama and sheer madness, he is reduced to a one-dimensional, brooding shell of his usual self. For a film starring Cage as a man pushed to the brink—something we know he’s capable of nailing (see Mandy)—there’s an astounding lack of passion or urgency anywhere in sight.

The premise about a man with a dark past being forced to revisit his violent ways after his daughter is kidnapped seems ripe for a fierce, high-stakes ride. But Rage opts instead for a sluggish and grim tone, devoid of any self-awareness or levity. One of the biggest offenses here is how seriously it takes itself despite its unapologetically formulaic and over-the-top plot. There’s no spark or dynamism in the writing.

What’s worse, the film is frequently offensive, trying to pass off stereotypical tropes as meaningful character traits. Compounding the banality of it all is the fact that there are NO good guys in this—no one to root for or care about.

Despite being stacked with a highly capable supporting cast, the film squanders everyone’s potential. Talented actors are given nothing to work with and are left stranded in roles that feel more like placeholders than characters. It’s a colossal waste of talent, a missed opportunity for some potentially explosive character interplay, and a reminder that even great actors can’t rescue a hopelessly flawed script.

The violence in Rage should be a selling point for any decent action-thriller, but here, it’s mishandled in a way that’s neither thrilling nor entertaining. It’s gory but joyless, a series of grim, clunky shootouts that seem to revel in brutality for the sake of it, without any of the style or catharsis a revenge thriller usually promises.

The script is an abomination, full of clunky and groan-inducing dialogue that’s often insipid, featuring lines like, “You don’t bang strippers in your home.”

The direction is equally uninspired. The scenes blend together in a monotonous blur, poorly lit and awkwardly staged, lacking the visual flair or tension-building necessary for a suspenseful thriller. It’s as if every shot is just there to take up space without adding anything meaningful or visually engaging.

And, oh my god, that ending.

Rage is ultimately a dismal and forgettable misfire, failing at almost every turn.

It’s a film that embodies frustration in every frame: frustrating to watch, frustrating to think about, and—most of all—frustrating to remember that it ever got made.

The Cage Factor:

It’s a rare film that doesn’t benefit from Cage’s presence. Even the biggest stinker we’ve watched to date, Grand Isle, was made infinitely more watchable by Cage’s campy charms. But Rage doesn’t do anything with its legendary leading man. Instead of having his usual gleeful abandon, he looks trapped, even bored. His character’s arc (or lack thereof) involves endless scowling, disgusting dialogue, and hollow violence that feels neither inspired nor impactful.

You have to work hard to write a character this bad. If this film was trying to achieve infamy as one of the worst ever made, you’d almost have to applaud it. For fans of Cage, this is a particularly disappointing mess because it takes away all of his greatest strengths and forces him into a role that anyone could have played, stripping him of his usual Cage-isms. Rage indeed.