Cage stars in Vampire’s Kiss, a movie which on the page must have read like Pee-Wee Herman’s American Psycho. He plays a literary agent who is — or believes he is? — a vampire after an experience almost literally the same as the event that turns Batman into Batman. We’re all friends here, so let’s dispense with the formalities: there is nothing, nothing redeeming in or about this movie except for Cage’s performance, which wouldn’t have mattered either if it didn’t end up presaging the Cage-ian filmic insanity that we’ve all come to love. This movie almost seems like a prank being played on him, like the rest of the cast and crew knows it’s a joke but nobody lets him in on it. As a one-off, Vampire’s Kiss would have ended up in the remaindered VHS heap with every other probably-a-tax-scam D-movie released in the tail end of the 1980s. But coming as it did in his years in the wilderness between Moonstruck and Leaving Las Vegas, Vampire’s Kiss is the apotheosis of an entire cult film category