Anyway, both Cage and Ryan are confused. Ryan doesn't know whether she should marry a fellow surgeon, which would likely bring her a million-dollar household income, or dump him to instead hang out with dull-as-dishwater Cage. Meanwhile, Cage debates whether he should give up eternal life as Andre Braugher's platonic boyfriend to "have it all" with Meg Ryan, at least until she turns the big four-oh or gets hit by a truck, whichever comes first.
How others will see it. Critics were less than thrilled with this version of Ghost. The award festivals also mostly ignored it, although the Saturn Awards bestowed three nominations, including Best Fantasy Film (it must have been a weak field that year). City of Angels was nonetheless a box office hit, and spent two weeks in April 1998 as the highest-grossing film.
It would be simplistic to say that City of Angels is either beautiful or stupefying dull, depending upon the gender of the viewer. It is true, though, that the imdb.com user ratings display a moderate spread. Women grade it 7.0 and men see it somewhat lower, an average 6.6 out of 10. Women aren't typically fond of unhappy endings, but they apparently determine that Meg Ryan's death is strictly cinematic, that is, she dies to make the audience cry, as in Love Story.
How I felt about it. It has been pointed out by others that a brain surgeon, of all people, should know better than to eschew a bike helmet, or ride in traffic with their eyes closed. But a helmet would cover up that expensive permanent. One does have to wonder what Cage will do, now that his girlfriend has gone. He has no marketable skills. He doesn't even have an identity. Perhaps he can hook up with the pediatrician. Just don't send her out for pears.
I can accept that Nicolas Cage would rather make love to Meg Ryan than hang out in the library all day. He's probably read all the good books, and gets tired of wearing the same baggy black jacket. True, he hangs out with Andre Braugher all day, but their conversations keep running into empty places. Every now and then, he gets to whisk adorable little girls away to Heaven (presumably), but more often you are saddled with transporting chain smokers and middle-aged joggers.
I can even understand why Meg Ryan would fall in love with her sensitive new soul mate. That lost puppy dog daze brings out the mothering instinct. Then there's that Best Actor Oscar from Leaving Las Vegas. How far you can go when you are the nephew of Godfather director Francis Ford Coppola.
What I can't understand is why anyone would sit through this drivel. I guess all the bad things that happen must go down at sunrise and sunset, when the dark-coated ones have clocked out to stand like zombies on the beach. Do surgeons really blast Jimi Hendrix in the operating room? "I need a sponge!" "What?" "A sponge!"
We know why Cage left angeldom. What about Dennis Franz? As an angel, did he hang around the Jack in the Box, staring as folks put away greasy cheeseburgers, and fantasize about the beer gut he could develop while putting them away?