"One night in Bangkok and the tough guys tumble..."
Don't ask me what happened to the real Nicolas Cage, because I don't know where he is.
I don't know what happened to the man who left Las Vegas, or the man who made Donald Kaufman into such an endearing figment of imagination, or the man who stole diapers as he stole hearts. All I've seen of late is a face, a name, a profile, a character, the artist formerly known as Nic Cage, an entity on auto-pilot and damn near self-parody that knows what he looks like and sounds like and makes do with that alone.
In Bangkok Dangerous, a remake by the Pang Brothers of their own 1999 thriller, Cage-Or-Something-Like-Him plays an assassin, perhaps the most laconic one this side of Forest Whitaker in '99's Ghost Dog: The Way of the Samurai, and he is so reliably aloof throughout, so divorced from the proceedings that it almost becomes its own form of entertainment... which is certainly helpful once genuine entertainment refuses to show up to any other degree.