GRAND ISLE (2020) *

Nicolas Cage hires an out of work ex-military man played by Luke Benward to fix his fence.  A hurricane hits while he’s in the midst of repairs and the hapless handyman finds himself stuck in Cage’s unwelcoming abode for the night.  While there, he must contend with Cage’s vamp of a wife (KaDee Strickland from Anacondas:  The Hunt for the Blood Orchid) who is dead set on putting the moves on him.  Naturally, it doesn’t take long for Cage to make his own proposition to Benward:  $20,000 to off his wife.

Grand Isle is a humdrum, dreary, and lifeless Southern Gothic thriller.  The pacing is inert, the situation is improbable, and the tension is nil.  It takes place mostly in one location, although that seems less like an attempt at claustrophobic atmosphere and more like a cost-effective way to keep the budget in check.

Even though Grand Isle graces us with the presence of a white trash mulleted Nicolas Cage, he curiously manages to underplay the role, which yields little entertainment value.  Even surefire can’t-miss lines like, “So, uh, tell me how long has it been since you had your, uh, COCK sucked?” never really register because he doesn’t seem Cagey enough to make it work.  And trust me, if ever a movie needed some Cagey weirdness, it’s this one.  

You know it’s bad when Kelsey Grammer chews more scenery than Nicolas Cage.  Sporting a thick southern drawl, Grammer shows up as a lawyer in the film’s tiresome framing device.  (It’s one of those “character relates flashbacks from a police holding cell” movies.)  Strickland is nice to look at and all, but she is woefully miscast as the southern belle with a screw loose.  It also doesn’t help that Benward is so goddam bland that he blends in with the wallpaper.  The scenes where Strickland tries to seduce him just lie there because there isn’t a hint of chemistry between them.  

I’m not saying Cage has to chew the scenery in every movie in order for it to be considered praise-worthy.  What I am saying is that if he’s starring in something as bad as this one, his hyperbolic histrionics will at the very least give the film a crutch to lean on when the going gets rough.  And brother, is the going ever rough in Grand Isle.

AKA:  Trapped.