The human being Nicolas Cage is not a joke. But “Nicolas Cage,” the idea of the actor, has certainly become one over the last decade or so. It’s a riff—both online and off—akin to saying something like, “Actually the Fast & Furious movies are masterpieces.” One says, “Nicolas Cage is a genius,” or sings the praises of one of his myriad B-movies in recent years. It’s meant to signify that the joke-maker thinks just a little bit differently about talent and prestige and, one could daresay, culture at large.

This joke has grown more than stale, mostly because the actor in question has seemed so thoroughly in on it the whole time. Cage appears to like the performance of oddity, these gonzo deep-dives into acting technique. It’s been a fuel for him during some wilderness years in the industry. So what’s with the knowing chuckles, when there’s nothing to figure out that the actor himself hasn’t already told us? 

Such questions swirl in one’s mind when watching the new film The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent (in theaters now), in which Nicolas Cage plays Nicolas Cage, a parody of a parody that is sweet and sensitive at the center. Directed by Tom Gormican and written by Gormican and Kevin Etten, the film is an opportunity to address Cage’s acolytes and sycophants entirely on his own terms—as if their assessment of him ever wasn’t. One hopes that the film, equal parts winsome and dull, will finally put an end to this chapter in the Cage saga. He’s just a good actor who’s a little weird, okay? Enough. 

When the film finds its version of Cage, he’s about half washed-up. He’s pursuing a dream role and embarrassing himself in the process, but also fielding a million-dollar offer to make an appearance at a superfan’s birthday party in Mallorca. So he still commands a little respect, only maybe not the right kind. Cage’s family life is in tatters. He’s divorcing his exasperated wife, Olivia (Sharon Horgan), and his teenage daughter, Addy (Lily Mo Sheen), mostly regards him as an unreliable clown. Facing an existential crisis (and a heap of debt), Cage accepts the birthday party offer and heads to Spain.

Inevitably, hijinks ensue. Cage finds himself entangled with a fearsome arms-dealing family and with CIA agents trying to thwart them. The Cage mega-stan who orchestrated this whole thing is Javi (Pedro Pascal), who seems like a nice, if strange, guy who just wants to make a movie with his hero. The CIA spooks (Ike Barinholtz and Tiffany Haddish) working behind the scenes, though, insist Javi is a menace who’s kidnapped a Spanish politician’s daughter.  

As the film rambles along, it does, on enough occasion, remind us not of the Cage caricature who has plagued film discourse throughout the 2000s, but of Cage’s real, unique appeal. When he’s not made to be silly for the delight of the geeks in the audience, Cage is, wouldn’t you know it, naturally silly and affable. There’s a sheepish charm about him, something both world-weary and innocent. 

He’s also got magnificent chemistry with Pascal, so much so that, at times, Massive Talent seems headed toward romance. That doesn’t happen, unfortunately, but the film at least serves as a proof of concept for a buddy pairing that would work in a number of other films. Pascal never leans too heavily on shtick; what works about creepy-endearing Javi is that he always feels like a real person. In reaction to that, so, too, does Cage. Which was maybe the point of this whole project all along. It’s a cash-in on Cage’s meme-y notoriety, yes, but it’s also an assertion of the genuine, if shaggy, movie star charisma that gave him a career at all. (In addition, of course, to his family connections.) 

I’m not sure how Gormican sees it, though. Too often in Massive Talent, Gormican tries to pull Cage toward the bit, doing things like saddling Cage with an imaginary friend who is just the actor at a younger age, made to bray and howl like a Nicolas Cage windup toy sold by some bro version of Super Yaki. It’s almost as if the director can’t see the wonderful little thing actually happening in the film: Cage is transcending the joke while gently acknowledging it. That’s the best one could hope for from a tricky meta project like this. But Gormican keeps yanking it down toward the simplest logline pitch: Nicolas Cage goes full Nicolas Cage.

If you want that level of Cage-iness, just go watch Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans. There is at least a shrewder, headier idea behind that ridiculousness. In Massive Talent, it is mere fan service. Which is why it’s so disarmingly poignant—yes, poignant—to watch Cage shake off that yoke and just be something closer to himself. When he does, his performance works in harmonious tandem with last year’s Pig—a movie whose premise suggested more Cage histrionics, but actually housed a quiet, serious, affecting performance. Perhaps a new day of Cage has dawned. One in which he can get back to the business of acting, unburdened by all the constant, semi-loving demand that he just bug out his eyes and dance.

More Great Stories From Vanity Fair

— The “Hot Mess” Duchess at the Center of a ’60s Sex Scandal
— Justice for Girls: Looking Back on the Show 10 Years Later
— The Johnny Depp–Amber Heard Trial: How Did It Come to This?
— Amanda Seyfried Wants to Reprise Her Role as Elizabeth Holmes
— How the Cast of This Is Us Won Equal Pay
— Will Smith Banned From the Oscars for 10 Years After the Slap
— Netflix’s The Ultimatum Offers a Sadistic Twist on Reality Romance
— From the Archive: How David Zaslav Became America’s King of Content
— Sign up for the “HWD Daily” newsletter for must-read industry and awards coverage—plus a special weekly edition of “Awards Insider.”