Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans
In his schlocky paycheck movies, Nicolas Cage glowers and throws tantrums, as if trying to prove he really means it, man. He does the same thing in Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans, Werner Herzog’s loopy and improbably entertaining remake of the 1992 Abel Ferrara dark-side-of-everything cult classic. Except that Cage is now doing his operatic bug-eyed intensity thing because the role actually calls for it. As Terence McDonagh, a homicide cop who is always high on coke and heroin, Cage walks with a crooked slouch and a barely visible tilt of the head; he gives this rogue officer a touch of Igor. McDonagh whips himself into adrenalized states beyond doubt or fear, but he also uses his addictions to be a better cop. He’s a crackhead undercover agent in hell.
Bad Lieutenant doesn’t go where you expect, but it has a stubborn, trippy logic. Herzog stages the film as a modern noir, with McDonagh’s investigation into a gang slaying entangled in his gambling habit, his attempts to keep his hooker girlfriend (Eva Mendes) happy and high, and other troubles. The film even has iguanas — real live scaly ones, shot in acid-head close-up, which doesn’t sound like much until you realize that the only one who can see them is McDonagh. They’re a vision of evil, of the way that addiction drags you down into the serpent world. Bad Lieutenant makes that a scarily arresting place to be. A-