It’s easy to poke fun at Nicolas Cage. Between the meltdown memes, dodgy hairdos and his more taxman-friendly choices of roles, he has frequently made himself a target for ridicule among the masses.
Fresh off an Oscar win for Leaving Las Vegas, the actor’s decision to follow up with three action films must have seemed baffling at the time. The gambit paid off, though. Consisting of The Rock, Con Air and Face/Off, this unofficial “trilogy” of blockbusters would showcase the fundamental unknowability of Nicolas Cage.
Simon West’s Con Air was my first exposure – a spiritual awakening facilitated by my father when I was 15 years old. “Fill your boots,” he said, as he handed over the tape with a knowing smile. The experience would serve as a coming-of-age moment, setting into motion a love of Cage’s work that still pervades. He has been characteristically busy since then, but Con Air is the one I keep coming back to, reawakening the teenage boy inside every single time.
At its core, Con Air is pure, distilled Nicolas Cage. Cameron Poe is effectively the straight man to a whole aeroplane of lunatics, and Cage’s performance is perfectly calibrated to the film he’s in. Mullet, southern-fried accent and all, he approaches the role with absolute sincerity. “I have gone out of my way not to be ironic and – with the risk of looking ridiculous – to be genuinely emotionally naked,” the star once said, reflecting on his so-called “nouveau shamanic” acting style.
West harnesses that authenticity in a way that makes its excesses seem entirely logical. Con Air is clearly in on the absurd joke, but it plays just as well if you want to take the action at face value. Naturally, should a sequel ever come to pass, the director wants to set it in space.
Cage, in turn, is supported by a murderer’s row of talent, led by a scenery-guzzling John Malkovich as Cyrus “the Virus” Grissom, and a chillingly cheerful Ving Rhames as his right-hand man. Along for the ride are Steve Buscemi, Danny Trejo, Dave Chappelle and MC Gainey, each bringing their own distinct flavour of anarchy to the party.
And what glorious anarchy it is. Bodies and cars fall out of the sky in equal measure. A child shares a surprisingly wholesome teddy bear’s picnic with a monster. Nicolas Cage fights Malkovich on a fire engine over the Las Vegas strip. All accompanied by an anthemic score from Trevor Rabin and Mark Mancina, which gets the blood pumping between jukebox hits.
Scott Rosenberg’s screenplay is loaded with so many zingers it scarcely needs its own iconic “bunny in the box” exchange. Even the vitriolic back-and-forth between rival government agents Larkin and Malloy (John Cusack and Colm Meaney) shines, demonstrating moments of resounding depth and levity. One understands why Malkovich didn’t even finish reading the script before agreeing to sign on.
For all the first-class violence and snark, Con Air’s earnestness is its greatest strength. Defying the reluctant hero trope, it’s refreshing to see a man do the right thing without hesitation, risking his own life and freedom to save best friend Baby-O (Mykelti Williamson) and guard Bishop (Rachel Ticotin). As his reward, Poe gets to share a heartwarming reunion with his family, set to the strain of the 1997 power ballad How Do I Live.
And what does that leave the villains with? Their just deserts, which is doubly appreciated now, in our time of thriving scum and villainy. Fittingly, West knows who his next generation of Air Cons might target should a sequel ever get off the ground – the ultra-rich. “It’s a ripe area for mayhem, and the audience would enjoy seeing people like that in jeopardy,” the director teased recently.
In the decades following its release, there’s been a tendency to mock Cage for his career choices. “Money is a factor,” he once candidly admitted of his straight-to-DVD work. One should never count Nicolas Cage out, though, and he subsequently returned with his most successful career reinvention since the Trinity – carving out a new niche in the cult horror space with the likes of Mandy and Longlegs.
While each era of his work has wrought something special, Con Air will always hold a prized place in my heart. It’s comfort food for the soul, and not the pre-packaged, reheated aeroplane variety served up by most modern action movies.
Con Air is the quintessential work of a star who refuses to be boxed in.