Based on a classic slice of short fiction by HP Lovecraft, this long-incubating adaptation is an overly flashy, effects-laden blend of sci-fi and horror. Nic Cage plays a semi-retired family man whose isolated upstate farm is struck by a meteorite, which then evaporates and causes all sorts of bizarre changes in the surrounding environment. Pink trees, mutated animals, unexpectedly abundant harvests, that sort of thing.

Among the afflicted is Cage himself, who revels in the chance to amp up every last one of his craziest on-screen tendencies. My god, what a Cage-being-Cage film this is. He's howling, he's gesticulating, he's painted in blood and cackling, he's... suddenly and inexplicably changing accents? I'm not sure how much direction he took here, because it looks like they just focused the cameras and kept rolling while their star actor did whatever felt good, with the occasional interruption from family members or special effects showcases. And, as perversely entertaining as that can be, it doesn't merit a film unto itself.

The scraps that surround those indulgent bouts of overacting are awfully scant, narrow and underdeveloped, like the worst '80s straight-to-video productions. It's trippy, but pointlessly so. We get cryptic prophecies and arcane imagery as props, mere window dressing that's waved around and then forgotten. Even the visuals can seem laughably dated, particularly the goopy, absurd creature effects. Catch the highlights when they invariably wind up on a YouTube gag reel - they're almost as funny as Cage's out-of-context lunacy in The Wicker Man - but do yourself a favor and skip the rest.