Mandy (2018)

There’s a general rule that one can’t deliberately make a good cult film. Either that type of film’s praise comes after a period of dwelling in the underground, or its merits are only known to a select few who gradually draw others in to the inner circle. However, it seems that director Panos Cosmatos did just that with Mandy, garnishing strong critical acclaim, while genre and 80’s enthusiasts spread the word of this gonzo tale despite its lackluster theatrical performance.

This is a tale of Red, played by the often-unhinged Nicholas Cage, and the titular Mandy (Andrea Riseborough), and how their tranquil existence in the woods of a near-mythical Pacific West in 1983 comes to a terrifying end at the hands of the Children of the New Dawn, a hippie-like cult led by neurotic and narcissistic Jeremiah Sand (Linus Roache). However, this is just the first half of the film, as soon after, Red embarks on a journey of revenge that melds fantastic tropes with the reality of a slightly off-kilter 1980s.

As mentioned, Cage, especially in recent years as become more known for outrageous and overblown performances that have been subject to memes more than they have to critical appraisal. Some may point the finger at his acting style, while others may focus on the choice of roles he has taken.  However, in the first part of the film, he gives a beautifully understated performance of a man who has underlying issues, including addiction, but whose devotion to his woman has helped him to heal somewhat. Here, we see the relationship not through trite “I love you’s,” but through silly humor and the quiet moments that often make up a relationship. Mandy does as well, being both a known quantity to Red as well as an entity of mystery. Though direction has made Riseborough to look outwardly plain, her quiet, contemplative demeanor makes her seem like an elfin being of the forest, unfortunately drawing the attention of Sand.

The role of the main antagonist Sand is deftly performed. Within his first few scenes, one can tell that this is an ultimately pathetic man. However, you can also see why he has sway over his members. He can appear charming, but usually he is terrifying as you don’t know whether he’s playing games or if he believes his own delusions. The interactions with his followers and their severe obsequious actions show that the planted fruit of the Age of Aquarius has grown overripe and become quite decayed a decade and a half later. He and his followers believe deeply, but it’s still shallow philosophizing

As it’s a simple story, you’re not drawn in by complex twists or experimental narrative choices. This movie of two halves is divided into three chapters. However, what draws attention is the way Cosmatos decides to flesh out the story through color choice. With a background landscape of forest green, we get important scenes drenched in bright reds and occasionally, stark blues. This is in combination with inserted brief animated sequences that gives off a Heavy Metal vibe (the 1981 film as well as the genre). By the end, Red, through his appearance, embodies his name, raging his way through the increasingly alien-looking landscape.

The haunting music by Johann Johannsson adds ethereal beauty and creeping doom to the imagery. The electronic score implies this is a dark fairy tale that happened a long time ago, that long time ago being the 1980s, a decade defined by analog synths. Highlights include the melancholy “Love Theme,” the doom-laden “Seeker of the Serpent’s Eye,” and the ambient “Death and Ashes.”  There are also other minor tracks that highlight the ramped-up action, particularly in the latter half of the film.

This is not a mainstream film, and it doesn’t aspire to be. It exists on its own terms as a realized world that just breaks with reality ever so slightly. Some may complain about the bipolar narrative: the first half is too slow and contemplative, while the second half is too frenzied as if Red is going level to level on a gaming quest. Most people will likely have an opinion about which half they prefer. I believe both moods are necessary; however, it could be disorienting to a viewer as normally the lows and highs are interspersed throughout a film rather than being slowly built-up to a frenzied pace that continues steadily to the conclusion. Still, whatever you feel about the structure, you will likely still be mesmerized by the prismatic spectacle.