Sympathy for the Devil
Directed by Yuval Adler
Written by Luke Paradise
Starring Nicolas Cage, Joel Kinnaman 
Rated R
Runtime: 1 hour, 30 minutes
In theaters July 28

by Megan Robinson, Staff Writer

Nicolas Cage plays himself. Well, not literally, as in The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent (dir. Tom Gormican, 2022), but it seems to be the typecasting Cage has embraced in recent years. After spending much of the 2010s starring in a slew of action films and thrillers, he has experienced a bit of a career resurgence following the critically-acclaimed films Mandy (dir. Panos Cosmatos, 2018) and Pig (dir. Michael Sarnoski, 2021). With this newfound, and well-deserved, relevance, being Nic Cage seems to be enough to attract an audience: Renfield (dir. Chris McKay, 2022), the previously mentioned The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent, and now Sympathy for the Devil (Yuval Adler). Unfortunately, the niche Cage fills is not enough to carry this limp thriller.

Sympathy for the Devil opens with our nameless protagonist, The Driver (Joel Kinnaman), dropping his son off with a grandparent, preparing to meet his wife in the hospital as she gives birth to their new child. He moves with urgency, as his wife has miscarried in the past; but his efforts prove futile, as less than ten minutes into the film The Passenger (Nicolas Cage) waltzes into The Driver’s car, gun in hand, and demands he drive. Where? Well, the destination becomes fuzzy as The Driver does whatever he can to escape, and The Passenger anything he can to prevent his prey from leaving his sight.

The loose plot–one where the film spends most of its time in a car with two central characters–leaves space for Cage to explore the eccentricities of his character, but the same cannot be said for Kinnaman. While Cage’s character has monologues about dreaming that his poor sinuses as a child were the result of a “Booger King” stuffing his nose every night or stories about a bookkeeper and associates he works for, and even a singalong sequence to “I Love the Nightlife (Disco ‘Round)” by Alicia Bridges, Kinnaman’s character is left relatively quiet. Instead of entertaining back and forths between the two leads, Kinnaman spends much of his time running away, looking in the rearview mirror at Cage, or repeating the same lines to his character’s wife and Cage. Luke Paradise’s script feels as if it was written with Cage in mind, as only one character engages the audience with the kind of idiosyncrasies the actor has become associated with through the internet’s obsession with his performances in Vampire’s Kiss (dir. Robert Bierman, 1988) and the opening minutes of Face/Off (dir. John Woo, 1997).

Adler’s direction, however, elevates the limp material, making up for the lack of tension created through the script. Though The Driver and The Passenger struggle throughout the film, such as The Driver rolling out of the car or running through a diner parking lot as The Passenger throws molotov cocktails, these sequences often end with the tired defeat of The Driver, who rarely puts up a fight or challenges the force of The Passenger’s strength and gunplay. Adler manages to still keep these sequences interesting to watch, despite their repetitive and anticlimactic endings. Several POV shots convey The Driver’s fear and The Passenger’s danger effectively: The Passenger is captured in the rearview mirror, his face unreadable and unpredictable; another shot from his perspective, with a gun pulled on The Driver, represents him as the faceless, nameless danger he is much more strongly than, say, Cage having red hair.

While the film’s somewhat grimy and claustrophobic look coupled with Cage’s performance are enough to stay engaged, the film fails at creating a true tension or shocking the audience with its plot twists and turns. More laughs come from Cage’s delivery and dialogue than scares; though he is selling a character intended to be funny, his screams don’t quite make an impression. His performance carries the film, which more often than not needs to leave the car it revolves around to become more visually interesting and dynamically written. When trapped in that car, Kinnaman has little to work with and Cage no one to really bounce off of; when in a diner towards the midpoint of the film, Cage is able to work with a variety of actors in a neon-setting, literally singing and dancing as he gains the freedom to move. 

Sympathy for the Devil leaves an impression only when it forgoes its repetitive plot device and lets Cage take the spotlight. Paradise’s script shines in The Passenger’s dialogue, such as during a back-and-forth between him and a cop (Cameron Lee Price) about the “flow of traffic;” but the film overall never gets to the thrilling highs it craves. Though an actor of formidable range, it seems Cage might be stuck in roles capitalizing on the bizarre energy the general public associates with him. At least no one can deny he’s having fun.