It’s a shame most people who see Mandy will likely see it on various On Demand platforms because it’s a film that is begging to be seen on the biggest, loudest screens possible. Move over Christopher Nolan, Panos Cosmatos probably has a better argument for the sanctity of the big screen experience than Dunkirk. I’m only half-kidding around, but if you’ve seen Cosmatos’ last (and debut) feature from 2010, Beyond The Black Rainbow, you know he has a unique visual style that really commands your attention, one that makes striking use of framing, color, and a hypnotic soundscape. However, with his directorial effort, Mandy, which he co-wrote with Aaron Stewart-Ahn, is a more ambitious experiment that is equal in its success at bringing its vision to life.

The film is basically a standard revenge film on paper, up to a point, at least. It’s 1983, and we have a couple, Red (Nicolas Cage) and Mandy (Andrea Riseborough), who are living a peaceful life in their secluded cabin in the woods. One day, Mandy becomes the object of desire for the crazy cult leader, Jeremiah (Linus Roache). He summons…mutated demon bikers (yes, really), who capture Mandy, and she is later killed by Jeremiah and his followers, which sets Red off on a revenge spree, armed with giant battle axe that he himself forged.

So…this movie. It’s quite something. If it sounds wild just by that description, you are in for one hell of a ride once you actually sit down and watch it. It’s one of those movies where it’s all about the visceral experience of watching all the madness unfold. However, it’s not all white-knuckled insanity. The first half of the film is slower, driven by mood, and is mostly used to set up Red and Mandy as a couple, the cult, and the general vibe of the movie in general. There’s a strong use of primary colored tints, harsh contrast, lots of fog, a soothing, but ever building synth score by the late great Jóhann Jóhannsson. It takes its time, but it’s never boring because every shot is striking and grabs you.

Then there’s the second half. Red grieves the death of his beloved, and begins his journey to kill those responsible. By this point, the film doesn’t necessarily take a sudden shift, since the style lends itself to the brutality that ensues. It’s like watching a heavy metal album cover come to life in all its glory. The violence is wild and over-the-top in a way that evokes Sam Raimi. Nicolas Cage goes completely unhinged. The score reflects the insanity happening on screen, and the imagery that was once soothing in the first half becomes like a fever dream that assaults the senses, but in a way that is utterly satisfying. There are also some touches of dark comedy that was more than welcome, and all these things combined makes the film the perfect midnight movie experience.

The simplicity of Mandy is what really makes it works. It’s primal to its core, telling a story of monsters that destroy a haven, and a man having to confront that evil. It’s gnarly, but it has a solid emotional core to it. Nicolas Cage certainly goes all out in the way you want, but it’s informed by the extremities that he experiences and is in turn a reflection of what he’s become. It’s a great performance that fully utilizes Cage’s specific brand of acting that he’s often been unfairly mocked for. Andrea Riseborough, Linus Roache are also quite great in this, which is to be expected since they always have been, and there’s some nice moments with actors like Bill Duke, Richard Brake, Olwen Fouéré, and Ned Dennehy.

Mandy is awesome in every way that word entails. It’s a psychedelic and kaleidoscopic smorgasbord of ultraviolence, dark heavy metal imagery, and Nicolas Cage being a force of nature. It might leave some viewers cold, especially with its Alejandro Jodorowsky-esque dialogue – which, even I’m not entirely sure what these characters are going on about half the time – but it’s so distinctive in its tone, style, and vibe that it was impossible to look away at any point in the movie. It’s one hell of an experience that calls back to many different types of films from the 70s and 80s, but it’s a totally singular voice at the helm, and it’s one that is impossible to ignore.