Reviled upon release, this chaotic sequel has earned cult status for its gonzo energy, metal-video visuals, and a gloriously unhinged Cage.
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TL;DR: Part superhero sequel, part metal fever dream, and entirely Nicolas Cage. Spirit of Vengeance is a chaotic inferno that critics detest. But Cage devotees may find that watching him scream, snarl, and set the world on fire makes for a damn good time in hell. Mileage will undoubtedly vary.
IN THIS CORNER: KELLY MINTZER
The Lowdown
Oh boy. So here’s the thing… I really didn’t want to pay to watch Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance. I dug around and found a Roku affiliate that’s streaming it for free. Score! However. It was streaming entirely in Spanish. I decided that if I couldn’t follow the Spanish version (Spanish is a beautiful language, lovely to hear, and I speak about five words of it), I’d pay the $4 and rent it in English.
Friends. I got it just fine.
Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance is a very stupid movie, and it is very surface-level. Most of the pleasure you’re going to get from it is actually just from the visuals, because the plot is goofy as hell (but not in a fun way)—which is not to say it isn’t a hair convoluted. Certainly more than it needs to be. There’s kidnapping, attempts at migrating a brain into a child, deals with the devil (of course), and, of course, you know, a biker with a big, flaming skull.
Normally, I would find this all so phenomenally goofy that I would have to love it. Unfortunately, nothing about Ghost Rider ever really pops.
To be clear, I went into this not expecting much. I didn’t care for the first one, and I find the visuals underwhelming. Look, I know there’s no such thing as a particularly BELIEVABLE rendering of a dude with a flaming skull riding around on his motorcycle, but these graphics still feel pretty bad. The mythology feels denser than it needs to be, as does the plot.
The charm of this series should just be a sort of street-level “Darvedevil” ish situation of Johnny Blaze (some of the laziest naming in a property since Pussy Galore) on a very simple, straightforward mission.
Instead, we get alcoholic monk Idris Elba (and HOW do you squander Idris? Who is, to quote Florence of and the Machine fame, one of the greats). Plus, we get reveals that do not feel all that revealing. I am guessing that to anyone who has paid any attention to this column, it will come as no surprise to hear: I hated this movie, in every language.
The Cage Factor:
As always, I must qualify that mileage will vary, but I think even for fans of this particular kind of movie, Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance is a somewhat difficult sell. It’s tedious and Nic Cage is… fine? I guess? But this movie’s a turd. It’s a Rat in a Cage.
AND IN THIS CORNER: STEPHANIE MALONE
The Lowdown
Kelly and I have been cruising for too long, side by side down a harmonious road of agreement. We couldn’t keep that up forever. Here is where our roads diverge… wildly.
I’ve spoken before about my love for this bonkers little film. Is it terrible? Indeed. But I’ll be damned if it doesn’t delight me. Part exorcism, part meltdown, part masterpiece of madness. Even when the film goes off the rails (of course it does), Cage stays gloriously aflame.
When Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance hit theaters in 2011, audiences were not prepared. Not for the whiplash editing. Not for the metal-video-from-hell cinematography. And certainly not for Nicolas Cage, summoning something unholy and unhinged from deep within his Method madness.
Dismissed by critics as a “cinematic car crash,” this sequel to 2007’s GHOST RIDER was a creative pivot — or perhaps a full-throttle skid — into chaos.
Gone was the slick, studio-friendly tone of the original; in its place came Mark Neveldine and Brian Taylor (Crank, Gamer), turning their signature frenetic style up to eleven. Their hyperkinetic camerawork and gleefully erratic editing make Spirit of Vengeance feel like it’s been possessed by the same infernal demon that fuels its hero’s fiery skull.
The plot is, in theory, about Johnny Blaze protecting the Devil’s son from damnation. In practice, it’s a stitched-together collage of roaring engines, screaming souls, and Cage’s wild eyes darting across the screen like a Pentecostal fever dream. A molten mess of metal riffs, fire piss, and pure Cage chaos. The cinematography wobbles between inspired and nausea-inducing, and the villains barely register beyond the pyrotechnics.
And yet, buried beneath the nonsense lies a kind of anarchic purity. It’s as if Neveldine and Taylor handed Cage a can of lighter fluid and said, “Do what you must.”
The result is cinematic combustion… ugly, chaotic, and undeniably fascinating.
The Cage Factor:
This is the moment where Nicolas Cage stopped pretending to be a superhero and started performing like one summoned from the depths of cinematic hell. Unlike the first film, where CGI handled much of Ghost Rider’s movement, Cage physically embodied the Rider here: twisting, twitching, and snarling under black contact lenses and voodoo-inspired face paint. He wasn’t just acting possessed; he became it.
Every line is either whispered like a confession or screamed like an exorcism. He channels the same manic energy that powered Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans, but filters it through a comic-book lens smeared with soot and sulfur. This is prime Cage—unpredictable, magnetic, and borderline feral.
His Ghost Rider is both tragic and terrifying, a man barely clinging to humanity, oscillating between agony and ecstasy. It’s a performance that transcends the film’s flaws, turning a mess into something bizarrely transcendent.
For comic book fans, it’s a flaming skeleton of a missed opportunity. For Cage devotees, it’s a treat watching Cage channel pure, chaotic id through leather and hellfire. It’s also the definition of why his career endures: because even in failure, he is fearless.
This scene alone is worth the price of admission.
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