McDonagh becomes more and more unhinged as the movie progresses, as he owes more and more money to his bookie (the wonderfully slimy Brad Dourif), as his prostitute girlfriend (Eva Mendes) gets in trouble with organized criminals, and he fails to make sufficient progress in solving the murder of a family of Senagalese immigrants whose father was involved in the drug trade. Cage, who has made a career in recent years out of his scene-chewing excess, is given free reign by Herzog to play it as over the top as he wants; the result is a performance as deliriously nutso as his manic turn in Wild at Heart. Herzog, no stranger to bringing out the inner maniac in his leading men after so many films with Klaus Kinski, allows Cage to dance right up to the edge of self-mockery, and then tumble right on over.
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