Actors playing themselves, from John Malkovich to LeBron James

This Friday, Nicolas Cage takes on the role of his life: Nicolas Cage. The Unbearable Weight Of Massive Talent sees Cage getting caught up in arms-dealing intrigue after accepting a $1 million offer to attend a wealthy fan’s birthday party. The unfolding predicament forces him to become the action hero his fan worships, even if that hero only exists in movies. Director, co-writer, and Cage megafan Tom Gormican’s film is certainly not the first time that a celebrity stepped in front of the cameras to reference or riff on their persona, or straight-up play themselves on screen. But fictional or autobiographical, it’s a dicey proposition. If you play too close to yourself, you run the risk of creating a vanity project; if you goof on your image and do so effectively, people might think you’re that person in real life. Ahead of The Bearable Weight Of Massive Talent and its tribute to Cage, The A.V. Club took a look back through film history for some good, bad, and occasionally underwhelming actor and celebrity self-portraits.

This is a stunt performance, but it’s in the service of an A+ joke. The Airplane! brain trust of David Zucker, Jim Abrahams, and Jerry Zucker were taking dead aim at disaster films goosing their all-star cast lists with a star athlete, who, in most cases, couldn’t act (dating back to gridiron great Elroy “Crazylegs” Hirsch in Zero Hour!, the film on which Airplane! is based). Abdul-Jabbar was spot-on for this part because a) he couldn’t act worth a lick, b) he’s 7'2" and barely fits in the cockpit, and c) the starstruck kid brought to visit the pilots doesn’t believe for a second he’s not Kareem Abdul-Jabbar. He might be painfully stiff for most of the movie, but there’s real heat when Kareem berates the kid’s dad for criticizing his regular-season effort.

The GOAT gets his own half-hearted highlight reel, and Ali is, if nothing else, an electrifying presence when the cameras are rolling. It’s a shameless vanity production with a first-rate cast—Ernest Borgnine, Robert Duvall, Dina Merrill, James Earl Jones, and John Marley (who’s quite good as Dr. Ferdie Pacheco)—but if you’re looking for any revelatory insights on the boxer’s career, this ain’t the place. Ali is legitimately engaged as a performer, but the energy is all self-hagiographic. There’s not a scintilla of introspection on display.

The Beatles are awfully believable while they’re being chased all over London by their adoring fans—must’ve had some experience with that. Most importantly, they seem to savor each other’s company (maybe not so much Paul’s “very clean” grandfather). A Hard Day’s Night isn’t just a great rock flick; it’s an endearing document of four lads who changed the world and had a blast doing it. The storm clouds moved in later, but in this film they seem like brothers.

Wes Craven’s ambitious deconstruction of the horror franchise that made him a household name features many of the first film’s key cast and crew members—e.g. Craven, Heather Langenkamp, John Saxon, and New Line honcho Robert Shaye—playing eerie iterations of themselves. It might be a heady, postmodern Nightmare, but the draw remains the same: Freddy Kreuger. Englund gives his most savage performance in the entire series as Freddy, but it’s his portrayal of Englund that’s most upsetting. Englund projects a friendly, almost serene demeanor, but the film posits—albeit in its movie-movie world—that making so many of these films takes an emotional and psychological toll on its participants. So what about the man behind the monster? If everyone’s struggling, what degree of scarring is he hiding?

The NBA Hall Of Famer’s renowned on-court humorlessness translates perfectly to the big screen. We believe Kevin Garnett would become so obsessed with the alleged good fortune emanating from a rare opal that he would pawn his 2008 Championship Ring to keep a stretch of excellent play going. Garnett’s intensity never carries a threat of physical harm (he’s not that guy in real life, and it’s doubtful he’d allow himself to be portrayed that way in a movie), but his desire for the opal does drive Adam Sandler’s character into a tighter spot. This isn’t a stunt performance, and Garnett goes at it with all due ferociousness.

We would’ve preferred the title Soul Removal Machine, which more colorfully gets at the, er, heart of this gently surreal comedy about Paul Giamatti struggling with the emotional freight of playing Uncle Vanya on stage, but this movie seems hellbent on being forgotten. Writer-director Sophie Barthes cribs heavily from the Charlie Kaufman playbook, and there is tremendous potential in watching Giamatti struggle through an existential crisis. Unfortunately, Barthes never does anything interesting with her premise, but Giamatti’s great because he’s every bit as restrained as the material.

Prior to his 2005-2014 run as lothario Barney Stinson on How I Met Your Mother, Neil Patrick Harris was best known to the public as the adorably brilliant Doogie Howser M.D. That’s the Harris Harold & Kumar Go to White Castle was spoofing in 2004; had the studio waited one year, they probably would’ve had to cast a different, squeaky-clean actor. The timing worked out for everyone: Harold & Kumar became a franchise for New Line, and Harris reignited his career as an amoral, drugged-up funhouse mirror of the Doogie viewers grew up with.

It’s hard to know for sure how it’d play out if Reggie Jackson were hypnotically induced to assassinate Queen Elizabeth II. But in terms of demonstrating this hypothetical, Mr. October does a fine job of portraying how he’d react. It’s a brave bit of work, imagining how one might murder the Queen while under mind control. (After all, Brando never did that.)

One of Judd Apatow’s best ideas over the last decade was to cast NBA superstar LeBron James as the best friend and confidant to Bill Hader’s unlucky-in-love sports doctor in Trainwreck. James had always seemed a bit stiff onscreen, but here he’s loose and eminently likable as he channels his inner Bruno Kirby to dish out romantic advice to his boy, albeit with some hilarious skinflint tendencies. Athlete cameos are typically punchlines or jolts of inspiration for a down-and-out ballplayer, so this use of James feels downright innovative.

Twenty-three years later, it’s still bewildering that this meta-celebrity mindfuck movie premised on a struggling puppeteer (John Cusack) discovering a portal into the mind of actor John Malkovich ever got written, let alone made. Fortunately, Malkovich went along with it and gave one of his finest performances. The scene where Malkovich enters his own brain, only to discover a world of gender-diverse versions of himself who speak only “Malkovich,” is a nightmarish melding of an actor’s vast talent and boundless narcissism.

In a movie where just about everyone is playing a fictionalized version of themselves to uproarious effect, why single out Danny McBride? List the iconic entrances in film history: Orson Welles in The Third Man, Elizabeth Taylor in A Place In The Sun, Omar Sharif in Lawrence Of Arabia… and Danny McBride emerging from a bathtub to rings of pot smoke and the blunted strains of Cypress Hill’s “When The Shit Goes Down.” It only gets zanier from there. After several seasons of watching McBride scandalize viewers with his boorish antics on Eastbound & Down, most thought they’d seen him hit his maniacal peak. This Is The End proved them wrong.

This largely forgotten trifle from 1984 stirred some interest due to the onscreen reunion of Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr, but they seem to be playing themselves a bit too well—i.e., Paul’s running the show, and Ringo looks like he’d rather be anywhere else. The narrative hinges on the recovery of lost master recordings, which could’ve made for a fun romp, but mostly, it’s just montages and light comedic interludes. McCartney allegedly wanted to do some real acting in this film, but that flame got blown out long before cameras rolled.

Audie Murphy was one of the most decorated American soldiers throughout the entirety of World War II, as well as easy on the eyes. So unsurprisingly, Hollywood put the veteran to work immediately in the post-war era. He had already appeared in films like The Red Badge Of Courage, Gunsmoke, and Destry when producer Aaron Rosenberg approached him to star in a film version of his best-selling autobiography. Murphy begrudgingly went along (he preferred his actor pal Tony Curtis for the role), and turns in a credible portrayal of Audie Murphy. The movie itself is wildly jingoistic, and while you can’t argue all the medals, the battlefield heroism gets a bit Rambo-esque at times.

The biggest surprise in the biggest surprise hit of 2009 was Bill Murray’s cameo as a kind-of zombie. Murray dons an undead disguise so he can get around Hollywood without getting bitten. It’s a clever ruse until he gets shot and killed by Columbus (Jesse Eisenberg), who tragically buys Murray’s rotting getup. Murray’s never been above a stunt appearance, though he usually saves them for talk shows. It’s fun watching him yuk it up with Woody Harrelson and Emma Stone, in a one-joke bit that doesn’t overstay its welcome.

Nahnatchka Khan’s delightful romcom jumps all the way off during this double-date-from-hell scene where Randall Park’s despairing Marcus finally learns the identity of his lifelong crush’s new boyfriend. It’s bad enough that Sasha (Ali Wong) has happily moved on, but he’s absolutely devastated to discover that she is dating none other than Keanu Reeves. The Gen X icon makes a hilariously obnoxious, slo-mo entrance to Awolnation’s “Sail,” and proceeds to play the very worst version of himself. He’s wearing glasses with no frames to prepare for a role, and generally has the perfect rebuttal for every one of Marcus’ challenges (typical Movie Keanu new-age speak: “The only stars that matter are the ones you look at when you dream.”) Reeves was so thrilled to skewer his movie star persona, he pitched in on the writing of the scene.

Steven Soderbergh’s second all-star heist centers on the theft of the priceless Fabergé Imperial Coronation Egg. When Ocean’s crew bungles their first attempt, they hatch an ingenious scheme to enlist Danny’s wife Tess to casually replace the real egg with a fake. How could she possibly get close enough to make the swap? Have you ever noticed Tess bears more than a passing resemblance to Julia Roberts? The dazzle of Roberts’ celebrity is supposed to overwhelm the egg’s caretakers into clumsily coughing it up. It appears to be working until that darn Bruce Willis pops up out of nowhere and suspects Tess is not the genuine Roberts. The interaction between these two massive movie stars, one of whom is playing themselves in a counterfeit manner, is hilariously meta.

When “The Muscles From Brussels”’ incandescent action career flamed out at the turn of the millennium, no one held out much hope for a phoenix-like rebirth. Van Damme trafficked in splits and spin kicks; his onscreen persona could be dorkily charming, but his appeal was really based on his physical gifts. The Muscles shocked us all with his tough and surprisingly soulful portrayal of a fictionalized Van Damme in Mabrouk el Mechri’s JCVD. It’s much more autocritique than autobiography, particularly during the film’s bravura, six-minute single take where Van Damme confesses his sins and regrets while hoping to hell he doesn’t get killed in a bank robbery.

“Billy Zane” is just a fun name to say: preposterously cool and hilarious at the same time. But there’s more to Zane than the name. There’s a state of mind. A sexy, yet oddly snooty way of being; there’s not another actor on the planet who could’ve pulled off that awful Picasso line in Titanic. Someone should probably make a movie about Billy Zane one of these days. Until then, we’ll have Billy Zane’s wonderfully overstated cameo in Ben Stiller’s Zoolander, where the utterance of his full name draws some of the film’s biggest laughs.