On paper, Michael Sarnoski’s Pig feels like a textbook example of the type of movie Nicolas Cage would take up just because. The actor remains a beloved Hollywood star particularly because his every role is so idiosyncratic and eccentric beyond comprehension, yet he’s also suffered from starring in so many films that are either bad, dull, or just plain bizarre. You’re never quite sure when a performance by Cage will be genuinely good, rather than him going through the motions or invoking his trademark over the top, genre-defying camp. There’s also the fact that a movie about a reclusive, bearded man with a mysterious past tracking down those who wronged his prize animal can’t help but feel like a rip-off of a certain beloved action masterpiece.

But, believe it or not, Pig is not a John Wick clone. It’s not even an action-thriller at all. Instead, the movie is a slow, melancholic drama built upon the search of said animal, with Cage in one of the best roles he’s had in years.

Cage plays Robin Feld, a truffle hunter who spends his days scavenging for fungi in the Oregon woods, then bringing them back to his cabin for food and occasionally to sell. Rob’s ally and companion in locating these delicacies is a brown truffle hog that he allows to sleep in a cabin bed, while his financial dealer is a young man named Amir (Alex Wolff), whose appearance gives off major “rich boy” vibes. Compared to Rob’s scruffy hair, beard, and disheveled coat, Amir drives up to the cabin in a Camaro wearing a suit and gold watch, all of which sell him as someone with rising culinary connections but trying way too hard to look like a big deal. It’s an odd pairing, but they make it work.

Then one night, Rob’s cabin is broken into, he’s knocked unconscious, and the pig is taken without explanation. With few options, Rob gets Amir to drive him across Portland in search of the stolen quarry, where we learn that there’s more to the recluse than meets the eye. A former influential chef whose wife passed away a while back, Rob isn’t so much respected by the Oregon culinary world as he is revered. In a very Wick–ish manner, the very mention of his name opens up exclusive reservations, gains access to restricted ingredients, and is viewed by established chefs as the holy inspiration for their success. It even holds some serious gambling cred when Rob enters himself in an underground chef fight club (no, really) for information on his pig’s whereabouts. However, where John Wick imposed its central character’s strength through violence, Pig does it through introspection.

One might expect wild-eyed fits of rage, but Cage instead underplays his role to make Rob a meditative presence. He’s single-mindedly obsessed with getting the pig back, but each step in this journey depicts him zeroing in on the shortcomings of other chefs who, either through cynicism or desire to preserve status, have lost touch with the culinary simplicity they claim to love in his old work. Watch him reprimand a former employee, Finway (David Knell), whose restaurant, while rated highly, is a far cry from the business venture he once told Rob he wanted to open. Rob does this not with hostility but rather through blunt disappointment at what’s been lost through Finway’s need for validation. There are certainly one or two moments where the actor goes “full Cage,” but otherwise it’s a testament to Cage’s acting prowess and Pig’s pacing—three acts, all named after key foods in each one—that these outbursts have meaning because of what we’ve witnessed earlier.

This worldview also works to the benefit of Rob and Amir’s relationship. Amir, whose business endeavors are hindered by living in his father’s (Adam Arkin) shadow, simultaneously wants to be his own person and move past the tragedy of his parents’ failed marriage. As he recounts to Rob, the only time they seemed to get along came from eating one of Rob’s meals. Neither man really changes the other, but from the way they open up to one another, what was once a mutually beneficial partnership feels genuinely stronger by the journey’s end.

Like its protagonist’s cooking skills, Pig’s strength lies in its simplicity, with Cage delivering the right amount of straight-faced anguish to make a simple animal rescue effort feel like so much more. It’s a well-constructed movie that, to use more food metaphors, efficiently conveys its story and themes free of any unnecessary fat. To quote Babe, “That’ll do.”