I don’t know why I do it to myself. I only watched the Hollywood remake of Bangkok Dangerous because we’re planning a trip to Thailand later this year and I was curious. It meant of course trying to set aside my qualms about Nicholas Cage, and sitting back to enjoy a panoply of exotic locations, from the Floating Markets to Buddhist Temples to the Red Light District. What’s not to like?
Um, everything, just about. Cage plays a gloomy assassin working in Bangkok for some shady thugs. He dies at the end. (There, I said it.) To be honest, I simply could never get beyond the truly appalling presence of the lumpen Mr. Cage himself. His face lift has made his skin as mobile as wax, his hairline is now somewhere back around the top of his shoulders, he’s got NO laugh lines, and that straggly fake hair sits on his scalp like a pair of crow’s wings that flap with a life of their own. It’s really bizarre, and it makes any scene he’s in completely unwatchable. The only salvation is his voice – which is grimly ironic given that the original Thai film featured a deaf hitman with no dialogue.