Artistic integrity and balance

When you hear the name "Nicholas Cage" what do you think of?

If you're like me, you think of an incessant stream of very bad high concept Hollywood wannabe blockbusters that are mostly just terrible. When I see the name Nicholas Cage attached to a movie these days, I take it as a sign that I should steer clear.

But it wasn't always like that. Back in the day, he was known for doing quirky roles in quirky movies like Raising Arizona and Wild at Heart. Then he won an Oscar, and ever since then, he's been shamelessly whoring out his talents for money. Outside of an occasional nod to his older ways, like Adaptation, it has been a string of mindless popcorn movie junk - not the good kind of popcorn movie junk that sweeps you in and gives you a good ride, but the kind that tries to make you think it will but ends up being a waste of time.

Okay, he's not the most talented actor in the biz, but he's not a bad one either. When matched to the right role (as in Raising Arizona, above), he can be perfect. When not matched well, he seems like Nicholas Cage trying to be something else. But the point is that he doesn't have to keep doing this. He can do what many actors in his position do: blockbuster movies to pay the bills, little indies to satisfy their urge to challenge themselves, expand their horizons, and actually act.

There's a noticeable dearth of little indies on Cage's recent slate of movies, though. Why? Does he really just care about the money? It seems at odds with his quirky beginnings. Does he or his agent just choose really poorly, thinking they're getting into one kind of movie but getting into another?

I don't know, but it makes me think about artistic integrity. We who create art are always going to feel some urge to get what we create out into the world and see it do well. It's an ego boost and it can be motivating to think that you've had a wide effect with your work. Beyond a paycheck, that's a good reason for wanting to shoot for broad appeal and wide audiences. But at some point, when one tastes that success, it seems that there is an almost irresistible temptation to just go ahead and do it for the money or the fame or the lifestyle rather than the art.

It happens to lots of people in lots of artforms. Not having had any big success, I can only watch from the sidelines and theorize about how it feels to be tempted by that. But I'd like to think I'd take the more balanced approach that someone like Brad Pitt or Johnny Depp has taken. They do their blockbusters for sure, but they also challenge themselves and mix in a good amount of quirkiness and oddity to keep things fresh. They are capable of reinvention when necessary.

If art every became simply a paycheck for me, it would surely not be worth doing anymore.