Nicolas Cage and Joel Kinnaman in Sympathy for the Devil (RLJE Films)

There’s a certain art to an over-the-top Nicolas Cage performance, one the actor doesn’t get right all the time, depending on how well his role meshes with a film’s tone. When Cage plays a normal guy displaying signs of overstated weirdness (The Wicker Man, Vampire’s Kiss), it risks veering into so-bad-it’s-funny territory. But when he’s the weird one pushing back against a fairly mundane world or amplifying a maniacal eccentricity (see: Face/Off, Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans, Mandy), the results are captivating, bordering on unmatched lunacy, regardless of the rest of the film’s quality.

Sympathy for the Devil is thankfully one of the latter performances. What this crime thriller lacks in originality it compensates with an intense atmosphere and two committed performances by Cage and co-star Joel Kinnaman that guide the tension along—specifically Cage, in full gonzo-psychopath mode.

By all accounts, the movie is quite minimalist. It doesn’t really explain what’s going on or why for a very long time, to the point that it frequently refrains from revealing the co-leads’ names. What we learn of Kinnaman’s character (labeled the Driver in the credits) comes in the opening minutes. He’s a married man whose wife has just gone into labor, and he’s on his way to the hospital. This baby is technically number three but, as the Driver tells his son before dropping him off with his grandma, their first died of a miscarriage. So, hopes and fears for the new child are exceedingly high as he drives through the bustling, neon-lit streets of Las Vegas.

But then a stranger (a goateed Cage, listed only as the Passenger) jumps into his car. Dressed in a blood-red suit and brandishing a gun, this man forces the Driver onto the road with no explanation. If the Driver speaks up or questions anything, the Stranger deflects or falls into philosophical non-sequiturs. Or, if he’s really pushed, explodes into a fit of patented Cage rage. The gunman claims to know the Driver. From what, he won’t reveal, nor will he divulge what he wants his hostage to say in response. But the Passenger is all business and nothing will stop him otherwise. A disturbingly standoffish encounter with a patrol officer makes that abundantly clear.

Structurally, that’s the bulk of it. Sympathy for the Devil can be broken down into two primary settings, plus a different locale for the climax. There’s the car ride, which builds tension among Driver and Passenger as one tries to figure out the other’s motives, with little success. Then there’s an equally drawn-out conversation in a remote diner, which introduces a few innocent employees and patrons to up the stakes. The vibe is partially stylized, partially gritty. The Vegas strip and highway lights create a semi-saturated environment that can’t help but leave you feeling disoriented for extended periods of time and in a state of uncertainty: We don’t know what’s really going on and, more importantly, who’s lying about what they know.

The story’s major downside is how pedestrian it is at heart, drawing cues from A History of Violence, Collateral, and The Secrets We Keep, the latter coincidentally directed by Sympathy’s Yuval Adler and co-starring Joel Kinnaman. While Kinnaman is well cast as the movie’s straight man, the glue holding everything together is Cage. And man, is he firing on all cylinders.

He’ll be calm and quiet one moment, spontaneously unleash a raving outburst the next, and at one point, the Passenger breaks into a dance after turning on the jukebox (whether Cage improvised that last part is anyone’s guess). This is Crazy Cage, the kind of performance you can never tear your eyes away from, even as he does things no regular human being—movie villains included—would do. Yet as the film carries on, you see glimpses of a man beneath the devilish exterior, traces of a code regarding who he attacks as well as his distaste for liars. These little details prevent Cage from crossing the line into flat-out camp, or just The Wicker Man stupidity.

If you need a breather from massive tentpole blockbusters, Sympathy for the Devil provides mid-budget thrills and the occasional white-knuckle moment. If you want something original, this might not be it. But if you want to see Nicolas Cage unleashed in ways that have made him truly one of a kind among Hollywood performers? Sympathy for the Devil delivers just what it advertises.