Welcome to Cinematic Essence, where I critique both contemporary and classic films and discuss how they utilize narrative, mise-en-scène and other filmmaking elements to facilitate unique experiences. I avoid spoilers when I discuss recent films.
“The Wicker Man.” “Raising Arizona.” “Adaptation.” Nicolas Cage has blessed us with many mad performances in many mad films. Yet, as I examine his — quite frankly brave — filmography, I struggle to find a madder role than that of Red Miller in Panos Cosmatos’ sophomore directorial effort, “Mandy.” The film premiered at the 2018 Sundance Film Festival and also features performances by Andrea Riseborough, Linus Roache, Ned Dennehy, Olwen Fouéré, Richard Brake and Bill Duke.
“Mandy” follows a simple, pulpy narrative. Red (Cage) is a lumberjack who lives in rural California with his girlfriend, a painter named Mandy (Riseborough). When the leader of a religious cult, Jeremiah (Roache), becomes obsessed with Mandy, much violence ensues — the gore and guts kind.
The film opens with a King Crimson song and never ceases to feel like the cinematic equivalent of a King Crimson album. In fact, the unearthly aesthetic of “Mandy” is the film’s selling point. The visuals are strange, inventive and sometimes explosive. The film feels like a vicious psychedelic trip; vibrant shades of pink, red and purple bleed into almost every frame. Several cartoon sequences are also included. The imagery and Jóhann Jóhannsson’s piercing soundtrack make “Mandy,” which is set in 1983, seem like a medieval fantasy of biblical proportions. This film somewhat reminds me of the 2010 video game adaptation of Dante’s “Inferno.”
Unfortunately, “Mandy” does not deliver quite as much mayhem as it promises. The film lingers for too long on certain mesmerizing visuals and on exposition; by the time the fiercest scenes arrived, I had already begun to feel exhausted. However, those third-act scenes are the best kind of horrific. “Mandy” would have benefited from a shorter runtime — about 30 minutes shorter, I reckon — and from a slightly heavier focus on chaotic, brutal action.
Another gripe I have with this film is the dialogue. It is contemporary and largely colloquial, and thus often clashes with the otherworldly ambiance. I understand that this choice is stylistic, but it only serves to awkwardly break my immersion.
“Mandy” does not provide an intelligent narrative, nor does it try to explore anything beyond our most primal, animalistic mental states. Cosmatos’ vision is, however, as unwavering and idiosyncratic as that of David Lynch. I suspect that both “Mandy” and its director will soon earn “cult” status, if they have not done so already.
Christoforos Sassaris is a third-year student majoring in English with minors in computer science and creative writing. PS868710@wcupa.edu