As one watches Mandy unfold, they may wonder how many drugs Cosmatos was on during the making of it. (Alternatively, how many should be ingested before watching it.) That's not to say it's a bad film, far from it. If anything, the distorted imagery is required for the story that's being told.
Being a second-generation director (his father George's best-known film Tombstone was also how he broke into the industry), Cosmatos obviously knows the workings of film production. And even with Mandy being his second (!) endeavor, it's clear that he'll be in the business for a long time.
The same, alas, cannot be said for composer Jóhann Jóhannsson, who died before Mandy was released. As he proved with other films like The Theory of Everything and Arrival, his music captured the ambiance of the film in question. His contribution to Mandy very much does that, and then some. (And his absence will be profoundly felt.)
Mandy is just as insane as its poster implies, almost being the demented love child of David Cronenberg and David Lynch. (Personally speaking, it's best if you read nothing before seeing it...thus rendering this review null and void.) And it's about time Cage did something that didn't feel slapped together in a span of five minutes. (The perils of money woes, folks.)
My Rating: ****1/2
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