by Patrick Bromley
Color Out of Space, director Richard Stanley's first narrative feature in almost 25 years, is the best Lovecraft adaptation since From Beyond in 1986. It's a neon-soaked nightmare, a headtrip made all the more hellish because of how much humanity Stanley infuses into the proceedings before Shit Goes Bad. We meet a family we like and care about deeply, then helplessly bear witness as some unknown, unspeakable terror tears them apart -- or, in some cases, fuses them together.
As a lifelong Nicolas Cage fan (who has also recently begun working my way through his entire DTV filmography, an exercise I've found enjoyable much more often than not), we are currently living in the best possible timeline to be a fan of the actor. Between this and Mandy, Cage is really giving himself over to outrageous and extreme visions of horror. It's clear that he trusts Stanley the same way he trusted Panos Cosmatos, and the result is a performance that is fully dialed in: he's quirky and funny and sweet and believably human in the early going, becoming more unhinged and aggressive once the meteor's effects have taken hold. In short, yes, he goes full Cage, but he completely earns it here. The madness that overtakes him is heartbreaking because we like him so much.