When did Nicolas Cage become, you know, Nicolas Cage? Not the actor who held his own with Cher in “Moonstruck” (1987) or the winner of an Oscar for his performance as an alcoholic screenwriter in “Leaving Las Vegas” (1995); nor am I referring to the action hero of the hugely successful “National Treasure” pictures. 

Rather, I speak of Nicolas Cage the Brand — that is to say, a screen presence whose mannerisms and reputation have become so distinctive that they were caricatured in last year’s “The Unbearable Weight of Massive Talent.” Mr. Cage starred in that film as a version of himself suffering, of course, from the title burden.

More than a few observers would claim that Mr. Cage has, in fact, become a caricature, and a rather stylized one at that. The actor is an acquired taste — like Marmite, say. Any public figure who claims that his goal in life is to become “Bob Denver on acid playing the accordion” will tend to test the patience of significant swaths of the audience.

What’s been less remarked upon is the odd, interesting, and even brave choices Mr. Cage has made as an actor and producer in recent years. Almost nobody saw 2019’s “Color Out of Space,” a film based on a story by H.P. Lovecraft in which Mr. Cage is a man attempting to save both his family and the planet from an alien invasion of atypical proportions. 

His role as a truffle hunter in “Pig” (2021) earned critical accolades if not a lot of money, and a fervid following has coalesced around “Mandy” (2018), a genre-busting psychedelic free-for-all about religious cults, a husband’s love, and some bad LSD. The latter picture is as intensive and absurd as the star himself.

“Sympathy for the Devil,” a film written by Luke Paradise and directed by Yuval Adler, is less adventurous than those movies, but it does continue Mr. Cage’s explorations of the more outré nooks-and-crannies of contemporary cinema. If anything, his turn in the current film is reminiscent of Frank Sinatra’s role in “Suddenly” (1954), a grubby little noir in which Hoboken’s finest starred as a psychopath setting up to assassinate the president. Both films are taut, troubling, and top heavy in terms of casting.

Having said that, “Suddenly” was lent considerable authority by co-star Sterling Hayden, just as “Sympathy for the Devil” is bolstered by Joel Kinnaman, the Swedish actor probably best known on these shores as Detective Stephen Holder in AMC’s “The Killing.” Mr. Adler’s movie is, for all intents and purposes, a two-hander in which archetypal characters — Mr. Cage and Mr. Kinnaman are, respectively, The Passenger and The Driver — play an increasingly hyperbolic game of cat-and-mouse.

The set-up is straightforward: Mr. Kinnaman is a married man on his way to the hospital, where his wife is expecting their second child. Riding his jalopy down the Las Vegas strip, he’s understandably riddled with anxiety and in a rush; when the dashboard light alerts him that the car is in need of gas, he plows forward in the knowledge that he’ll soon be ensconced in the maternity ward. Upon pulling into the hospital’s garage, he encounters a lineup of cars waiting for available parking spaces. 

The wait proves frustrating and then dangerous. The back door opens and in hurtles what appears to be a lounge lizard with a shock of magenta hair, a deck of playing cards, and an attitude. After pulling a gun, the man tells Mr. Kinnaman’s character to leave the hospital grounds for a drive to Boulder City. His mother, you see, is dying of cancer. Given his volatility and unrelenting sarcasm, we’re pretty sure this particular passenger is lying. All the while our hero’s phone keeps ringing. His wife is in labor. Her voice messages register an increasing exasperation regarding her husband’s whereabouts.

Saying anything more or bringing in analogies to other films would spoil this particular broth of madness, murder, and mayhem. Mr. Cage is firing on all cylinders from the get-go, and Mr. Kinnaman plays off him with welcome restraint. The script is rife with memorable quips — Mr. Cage’s rant about being less than “100 percent sex” is a stand-out — and Mr. Adler keeps the tension building with a precision that is as crisp as it is cool. 

That the film’s payoff doesn’t match the buildup makes it more of a formal exercise than a cinematic coup. As such, it’s recommended primarily to those who like  their Nicolas Cage unfiltered. You know who you are.