How has there not already been a Nicolas Cage movie called Rage? That title could fit many of the Drive Angry star's late-career time-wasters. Here it works best as an imperative rather than an announcement of theme: You may feel some anger if you pay to watch this. Or you may not, as Rage offers exactly what you think a Nic Cage movie called Rage would, except maybe for continually inspired lunacy.
It's got the kidnapped daughter, the parade of tough-guy monologues, the scenes of Cage killing and looking anguished as he washes his hands, some pretty good knife fights, a not-bad car chase, a couple scenes of torture that director Paco Cabezas clearly isn't too invested in, and three moments of prime-Cage weirdness, each a readymade for future WTF clip reels. Danny Glover, 27 years after complaining he was too old for this shit, shows up as police detective who rasps things like "He's got a rap sheet as long as my dick." He's rewarded with a go-nowhere voice-of-reason speech, delivered in the general direction of Cage, who chooses to suggest the rage of the title by assuming something of a haughty indifference.
You've sat through worse things while folding laundry. (You know what would be the most accurate title for a Cage flick? Not Drive Angry but Fold Bored.) Let's turn to the only question that matters: How crazy does Cage get? On a scale of one to ten, with ten being The Wicker Man and one being the real Nicolas Cage on a Sunday morning eating a scone and reading a comic book, Rage ranks a six -- but with lots of dead air.