If thereâs one thing you can count on when you see a Tom Cruise franchise action movie, itâs the look on his face. It is cool and poised, sleek and alert; itâs all dashing resolve. But during âThe Mummy,â I kept looking at Cruise and having a strange sensation, which is that the emotion those familiar features seemed to be radiating was, in a word, confusion. Throughout the movie, he looked a little slack and a little blank, a little what-the-heck-is-going-on? It could, theoretically, have been an element of Cruiseâs performance. His character, a tomb raider named Nick Morton, gets invaded by the spirit of an Egyptian mummy; his soul then becomes a battleground between good and evil (at least, thatâs the idea). That could be enough to leave one confused. The truth is, though, that the slightly discombobulated look on Cruiseâs face throughout âThe Mummyâ didnât really strike me as an aspect of his performance. It seemed more like Cruise himself thinking, deep down, âWhere am I?â
For the last 10 years, Tom Cruise has been doing a version of what heâs always done â" making âMission: Impossibleâ thrillers, and also big-scale flashy-concept sci-fi movies (like âOblivionâ and âEdge of Tomorrowâ) and introducing new franchises, like âJack Reacherâ and, now, the Dark Universe films. Heâs become a bit of a franchise addict. The very thing that allows a film series to define a brand is that a star tends to do one of them at a time, so that it can beâ¦you know, defining.
But Cruise now seems to throw franchises against the wall in order to see which of them will stick. Another âM:Iâ film, another âJack Reacherâ mystery, now âThe Mummy,â and whatâs next? Heâs all these characters, but in another way heâs none of them, because the characters (except for Ethan Hunt) arenât sinking into moviegoersâ imaginations. Theyâre like suits of clothing heâs rotating through. He has just announced the sequel that no one was clamoring to see, âTop Gun: Maverick,â which sounds like a case of cannibalizing his greatest star hit by grinding it up into another franchise. What could be less of a maverick move?
Some of whatâs faltering is Cruiseâs judgment. Take the âJack Reacherâ series. The whole premise of it is that Jack Reacher is a nihilistic loner who investigates crimes â" a pursuit that, in his case, involves recklessly dressing people down and beating the crap out of them. Heâs Sam Spade meets Dirty Harry. But, of course, the problem with âJack Reacherâ (2012) and its recent sequel, âJack Reacher: Never Go Backâ (2016), is that the character of Jack, as portrayed by Cruise, is a badass who isnât bad enough â" a hellion polished and honed to be âaudience-friendly.â
Yet why take on a role like this one if youâre only going to water it down? Cruise, as an actor, is like an image consultant, or a studio executive giving notes to himself (âI think thereâs an opportunity here to make the character a little more likableâ¦â). Whatâs insidious is that the reason he was drawn to playing Jack Reacher in the first place is that he obviously regarded it as an act of image management â" a way to keep pace with the times by letting himself get down and dirty (but not too much). Is it any wonder that these films are tonally out of focus? With deadening calculation, they whipsaw Cruiseâs image in two directions at once. Thatâs why they barely even feel like a franchise. Theyâre just two more middling Tom Cruise films.
The middling Cruise movies are stacking up, and over the last 10 years he has squandered his star capital with them. He now seems devoted to working with anonymously talented journeyman directors (Bryan Singer, Christopher McQuarrie, Joseph Kosinski, Alex Kurtzman). Is that his way of retaining the power? Let me say up front that Iâve always been a Tom Cruise believer (just check out my gallery of his 10 best films, in which my reverence for movies like âTop Gunâ knows no shame), but the eerie thing about Cruiseâs career in the last decade is that he has been churning out the cinematic equivalent of holograms. It walks like a Tom Cruise movie, it talks like a Tom Cruise movie (itâs got speed and âintensity,â even a soupçon of cleverness), but itâs a Tom Cruise movie that leaves no shadow. Itâs a piece of virtual entertainment.
The new Cruise era really kicked off with âValkyrie,â the 2008 historical-curiosity thriller that cast him as a one-eyed German officer who became a secret member of the anti-Nazi resistance, leading a plot to assassinate Hitler. As ideas for movies go, this one wasnât bad, but I remember being struck by how jarring it was that Cruise didnât even try for a German accent. I realize, of course, that this isnât exactly an issue of the strictest historical accuracy (the Germans didnât just speak with German accents, they spoke German), but the point is: If youâre going to sign on to do a film like âValkyrie,â why not use it as the opportunity to change up your persona? Donât just give us the same-old same-old Tom Cruise, only now in an eyepatch and Iron Cross costume.
The movies that Cruise has made since then â" âKnight and Day,â âOblivion,â etc. â" have played like imitation Tom Cruise movies, and thatâs because the thing that theyâre mimicking, as if it were there in the way it always has been, is his identity as a superstar. Another big summer movie, another franchise, another brand boost, another countdown to the opening-weekend gross â" and even if those numbers are not what they used to be (âJack Reacherâ: $22 million, âKnight and Dayâ: $20 million, âThe Mummyâ: $31 million), at least they look like theyâre in the blockbuster ballpark; globally, the final tallies often are. They prove, each time, that Tom Cruise is still in the game. And thatâs what matters to him: his continued existence as an ageless movie demigod â" the Cruise weâve known and loved, hopping from one hit to the next, never even changing his haircut.
But does he really want his legacy to be âLook! My last movie grossed as much money as âWarcraft'â? For a long time, not just in the â80s and â90s but right up through the middle of the â00s, Tom Cruise did vigorous and sometimes extraordinary work with great filmmakers who challenged him. (Most stunning example: His lacerating and revelatory performance in âMagnolia.â) Have the great filmmakers stopped calling? I canât believe that the answer is yes. This fall, heâll star in âAmerican Made,â a true-life drama of drug-running and politics directed by Doug Liman.
Tom Cruise could still be a powerful actor, but the irony of his career, at least for now, is that at the very moment when he should be taking on more character roles, easing into a post-superstar creative freedom zone (as actors from Julia Roberts to Kevin Costner to Meryl Streep to Leonardo DiCaprio have done), heâs doubled down on one thing and one thing only: the awesome global transcendence of his image. Heâs still choosing movies like heâs king of the world. Heâs got it half right: He is Hollywood royalty. But proving that, each and every time, by making movies that exist for no organic reason but to win the box-office contest theyâre not even winning anymore has become, for Cruise, a game of diminishing returns: for his fans, and for himself, too.
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