There can only ever be one Bad Lieutenant: Harvey Keitel. In “Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans,” Nicolas Cage, pretend tough guy (Malibu accent, long floppy coiffure, nervous smile), is more like the Bad Used-Car Salesman.
And if this is Cage playing a crackhead — shouty, with sudden maniacal laughs — maybe he should go back and rethink the similar performance he has given before. In pretty much every other movie.
No matter; Werner Herzog is here to save the day, delivering an intentionally bad movie inflected with demon brilliance. The German director’s sort-of remake of the (I mean this in a nice way) gangrenous 1992 New York noir — in which Keitel’s questionable behavior included weeping naked in crucifixion pose, unspeakable acts in front of a female motorist and betting against the Mets — places Cage’s nutty portrayal of an ethically challenged cop at the center of a circus of squalor.
Behold as Lt. Terence McDonagh (Cage) smokes crack with a murderous drug king (Alvin “Xzibit” Joiner), gets deeply in the hole with a bookie (Brad Dourif) and cuts off the oxygen supply of a wheezing old lady (oops — her son’s a congressman). Also — this is really reprehensible — he steals dirty pictures of a colleague’s wife without even giving the other cops a peek.
Val Kilmer, underused, turns up as Cage’s partner, and every so often we look in on Eva Mendes, as a bruised hooker with whom the lieutenant has a fraught relationship. Possibly she can’t believe she’s doing another movie with the star of “Ghost Rider.”
Despite the .44 stuck in his belt, the coke in his nostrils and the profanity on his tongue, Cage still seems like a dork, and the slurred Novocaine voice he seems to think sounds Southern doesn’t help. Also: What’s with him diving into a Katrina-flooded prison just to save the life of some dirtbag inmate? Not very badass.
But the inappropriateness of the character, the actor and the director (Herzog frames shots through the mouth of a crocodile, shows us a dead man break-dancing, and pauses for a musical interlude set to “Please Release Me” starring two iguanas) reinforce one another to often hilarious effect.
Herzog doesn’t know action (the one shootout, which carries the potential of being a “Scarface” moment, is bungled), but he does know rank, dank and crazy. This movie’s heart is (I mean this in a nice way) as filthy as the grease trap in a back-roads diner.