Mandy ★★★

The second half of Panos Cosmatos's film is, if nothing else, confirmation that Nic Cage is far from running out of the crazy gas. Glad, too, that "the bathroom scene," which cedes the stage fully to the actor, arrived when it did. Mandy's first half is all gauzy Lynchian call-outs, one after another occurring at a climax (which is to say, wanting for a sense of crescendo). Fetching but tiring. Then Cage's character steps into the bathroom, freaks out, and the film's DNA is completely scrambled. I don't know if it reflects well or badly on me (or just well on Cosmatos) that the film becomes exactly what I wanted it to: a bloody punk-rock fuck you to the first half's shoegaze dithering.