This continues the ongoing “Nicolas Fucking Cage” Series we do here at the DMR. Is it pleasant? Is it enjoyable? Is it sane? In all three cases, I’m gonna have to lean negatory on this one. With chainsaws, 4-wheelers and one bad-ass scimitar, it begins like a 70s b-movie and digresses from there. But it is one helluva journey if you can stand it.
Nicolas Fucking Cage is a remote lumberjacker by trade. He’s found himself a sweet, awkward, weird hippy-artist chick who has strange eyes. There’s bad Erik Estrada jokes. There’s OTA movie-watching before the static comes. Then, there’s demonic deals with satanspawn bikers by a koonty kult leader that’s really not right in the head and who really is a major asshat. And acid. Lots and lots of acid. It’s kinda like Last House on the Left ramped up to 11 with a lot of acid and red lights and blood and a sprinkling of biker meth-acid-pcp-cocaine-whateverthefuckgreygoo kinda shit.
This movie is pretty evil. Actually, it’s ugly evil. This is not a pleasant movie. It’s like if somebody watched some Eli Roth torture porn flicks and said, “Ha! That’s for pussies.” Are there tiger shirts? Yes. Are there actual fucking tigers? Yes. Well, one. And it’s the mellowest character of the film. Frank Frazetta would be proud, at least. This is a tale of bloody dark revenge, that’s super bloody. But ultimately when looking at the larger picture, just seems like a weak shill for the anti-logging agenda. Shame.
