Nicolas Cage Stuns SXSW Playing Himself in ‘The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent’

To say the excitement in the room at The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent’s SXSW premiere was palpable would be an understatement. The sidewalks in Austin were plastered with hand-printed signs emblazoned with star Nicolas Cage’s face and a fan’s phone number ahead of the event. A fan rows ahead of me wore a sweater branded with the actor’s face; directly behind me, I overheard a fan deliberating when the most opportune moment might be to try and hand the actor a single rose. By the time Cage himself showed up to the debut—clad in a plaid blazer—the room erupted.

The reason for this fervor hardly requires explanation; at this point, Cage is equal parts actor and meme, myth, legend. And Tom Gormican’s madcap buddy comedy—which finds the actor playing an egotistical, even more “extra” version of himself—takes that ethos and runs with it.

The walls are closing in on the movie’s Nicolas Cage by the time we meet him. His ex-wife (played by an impeccably withering Sharon Horgan) is begging him to get his shit together for the sake of their teenage daughter, Addy (Lily Sheen, daughter of Michael Sheen and Kate Beckinsale, in her film debut). Addy’s tired of feeling like her relationship with her father hinges on adequately praising his favorite movies, like The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. (It’s every teen’s favorite, right?) And then there’s the small matter of Nick’s massive debt—which includes a $600,000 bill for the hotel where he’s lived for way too long.

So Nicolas Cage is, shall we say, a little despondent. He spends his family therapy session with Addy ranting about his career and craft and, after yet another setback, usurps her birthday party for a narcissistic display of self pity that involves a grand piano and some extremely unbearable singing.

Cage is no stranger to meta humor, and The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent takes things to a new level. The film is bursting at the scenes with references to Cage’s filmography—various props and iconic shots appear one after another, from his golden Face/Off guns to the pool scene from Leaving Las Vegas—and his personal life, or at least his notoriously bizarre spending habits. Somehow, though, none of it grates the way gambits like this are prone to do. Gormican and Kevin Etten’s script is just loud enough, just cheeky enough, just “NICK! FUCKINNNNG! CAGE!” enough to pull it all off.

On that last front, it helps that there are actually two Nick Fucking Cages in this movie; the actor can occasionally be seen arguing with a de-aged version of himself, in the mold of his earlier roles like Wild at Heart. (Does the de-aged Cage look a little funny? Yes. Does that only enhance the effect? Absolutely.)

That excruciatingly awkward serenade at his daughter’s party should register to Nick as rock bottom—but what actually humiliates him most is being forced to show up at a wealthy fan’s birthday in Mallorca, Spain, in exchange for $1 million he desperately needs. (Such a burden!) He assumes the role of artistic martyr and dictates a grandiose proclamation that he’s retiring from acting to his agent (Neil Patrick Harris) by phone before hopping on a plane.

Enter Pedro Pascal as Javi Gutierrez—the aforementioned superfan who wants more than anything for Cage to agree to appear in a movie he’s written. Just one problem: The CIA is also pretty sure Javi is a ruthless crime boss who’s abducted a teenage girl to sway an election. Once they realize the actor is staying in Javi’s compound, they conscript him to go undercover.

What unfolds from there can only be described as a transcendent example of Hollywood chemistry. Pascal not only matches Cage’s intensity but enhances it with his own massive talent for scenery-chewing. They make a meal of this film, in which each successive riff is just a hint more unhinged than the last. (No spoilers, but there’s a drug-induced car ride that just might give Leonardo DiCaprio’s luded-up Wolf of Wall Street joyride a run for its money.)

Pascal and Cage don’t carry all of the Weight alone, either. Horgan’s every eye roll and expression of unsurprised disappointment drives home her ex’s insufferableness—and happily, the film allows her to play more than the put-upon wife by the time it reaches the end of its 90-minute runtime. The Afterparty co-stars Tiffany Haddish and Ike Barinholtz don’t get an outsized amount of time as the CIA agents pressuring Nick into a life of espionage, but they squeeze every possible ounce of comedy from every scene they share.

Still, the spiritual duende that Cage and Pascal achieve together is unquestionably this film’s anchor. The two appear to be having the time of their lives in every single frame as they careen from one gonzo set piece to another—scaling walls, destroying cars and property, and dropping acid.

Cage has gone on the record to say that this version of himself is pretty far from the real one. “A version of Nick Cage that doesn’t want to spend time with his kid doesn’t exist,” the actor told The Hollywood Reporter. He also said he doesn’t use nearly as much profanity in his everyday life as the film implies. “I have a lot of quiet moments at home with just my cat, reading. Do we want to show any of that? No, because it’s not fun.”

But if there’s one thing Hollywood’s gamest actor knows, it’s how to put on a show—and The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent fits seamlessly into the Nick Cage mythmaking apparatus. It’s a delirious romp, a delightful acid trip that grabs you by the flashy leather jacket and refuses to let go. And yes, by the end, he utters the words we were all waiting for: “Not the bees!!!”