There’s nothing quite like Nicolas Cage operating at full enthusiasm, and when it comes to his pitch-black new horror-satire Mom and Dad — about adults suddenly becoming overwhelmed with murderous rage towards their offspring — he’s beaming with appropriately manic parental pride.

Breezing into a Toronto cafe this week in a cowboy hat the morning after a triumphant Midnight Madness premiere — during which a vocal crowd of his worshippers whooped every time he popped onscreen — Cage was in an infectiously ebullient mood. Today was going to be a great day, he predicted, “because I get to talk about a movie I actually love.”

Indeed, 12 hours after his film’s midnight debut, Cage was still moonstruck.

In fact, the moment he sat down he turned to co-star Selma Blair and began bombarding her with kudos — “I can’t take my eyes off of her. True story. Bacall but beyond. Iconic. I’m scared of her right now. I’m being honest.”

When writer-director Brian Taylor joins the table, he isn’t spared such praise either. He could only shake his head gratefully as Cage said he deserved a place alongside filmmaking greats Martin Scorsese, the Coen brothers and Francis Ford Coppola.

“He’s in the hierarchy,” Cage raved. “Can I be so bold? I’m his (Toshiro) Mifune, he’s my (Akira) Kurosawa. I would do anything for that motherf---er. He’s a genius. He knows where to put the camera.”

Improbably, Cage’s enthusiasm was equalled the night before by a raucous Toronto International Film Festival crowd that couldn’t have been more ideally suited for Taylor’s gleefully unhinged roller-coaster of an ash-black comedy, in which Cage and Blair’s loveless suburban stasis is suddenly interrupted by a worldwide hysteria that inexplicably renders parents singularly obsessed with murdering their children.

Before long, they’re descending upon their teen daughter and adolescent son (Anne Winters and Zackary Arthur) wielding electric handsaws and meat tenderizers.

Before the film’s Toronto International Film Festival debut, Cage had only seen a rough cut about a year ago.

“I liked it, but I thought it needed work. Then I saw it last night and I was like: ‘F--- yeah.’ It was badass. S--- was off the hook,” raved Cage, who first worked with Taylor on what he calls the “misunderstood” Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance. “I told (Taylor): You did it. You broke ground. We had Blair Witch, that broke ground, you just broke ground. There’s never been a movie like this.

“Top three movies I’ve made in the last 10 years,” he continued, unprompted. “1. Mom and Dad. 2. Drive Angry. 3. Joe. OK? He comes first.”

Taylor introduced the film by telling the crowd that “this movie has mental problems, and if you’re seeing it, then you also have mental problems.” And the director, who presided over the stylish Crank films with longtime partner Mark Neveldine, concedes he couldn’t really trust himself to know where the line should be in a film about adults brutalizing kids.

“There were some times watching the movie back where we were like: we should’ve killed more kids there,” he said with a laugh.

“Is it so weird that I don’t think it’s mental?” wondered Blair, who had only the most fleeting concerns about the film. “Not much shocks me. I’m totally past it but you do go: ‘Ooh, I’m a mom in this.’ I’m always thought of as a little odd anyhow, and I try to put on a conservative front in my life because I’m so spooky to people.”

“You might get a few dirty looks from the other moms at school,” Taylor said.

“Or looks of acknowledgment,” she replied wryly.

Cage, of course, had no concerns at all about throwing himself into the gonzo flick with wild-hearted commitment. He recalls Taylor telling him at some point that the film might piss people off. Cage’s response? “It had better.”

“When I read it — I’ve always been a punk rocker, Vampire’s Kiss, punk rock, I’ve always been a fan of the Sex Pistols,” said Cage, whose left hand was decorated with thick, colourful rings. “I’m always looking to break that envelope, tear the space-time envelope — how can I rock you? How can I shock you? That’s who I am. And I read this script, I said: Brian, we’re making this movie.”

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Where Blair grounds the movie with a nuanced but still demented-when-necessary portrayal, Cage — not renowned for his restraint — lets completely loose in a performance that seems winkingly designed to be the stuff dream memes are made of.

“To get really geeky, Cage is — you know Cyclops in the X-Men, he’s got that visor he puts on and when he takes it off, he’ll take out 10 buildings? That’s trying to direct Nick,” Taylor said. “You always know that power’s there.”

Well, it’s not easy to steer a conversation with an energized Cage either, but it’s exhilarating to be along for the ride. He drops juicy nuggets of detail then briskly moves on without further explanation. Asked whether he and Blair had crossed paths over the years, he turns to her in a conciliatory manner.

“Selma and I . . . what do you want to say?” he asks her as she laughs. “She lived in my house. Is that OK?”

“Many moons ago, yes,” she agrees, noting that they’d nevertheless gotten to know each other only recently. “We’ll leave it at that.”

Later, he finishes another rave review of Blair’s performance with a gloriously unexpected non-sequitur.

“She’s bringing the Golden Age back,” he said. “I’m serious. And I am wearing Charles Bronson’s hat.”

Really?

“Dude. Oh my God.”

He pops his hat off and offers it across the table, pointing to the inscription: “Inspired by Charles Bronson’s hat in Once Upon a Time in the West, custom-made for Nicolas Cage.”

“So this is the first time Charlie and I have been together. We should have made a movie together,” he mused. “Anyway, I’m getting a little verklempt. What else can we talk about?”