The Incredible Shrinking Stardom of Tom Cruise

In Hollywood, a movie star is allowed only so many bad choices before he or she loses the power of making a choice, and Tom Cruise's career seems to be teetering on the edge of the abyss right now. For example, Cruise turned down Salt so he could do Knight and Day. (By the way, Tom, Angelina says "Thank you!") Sure, Knight and Day did O.K., but the producers could have saved a lot of money if they hired Dwayne Johnson or Brendan Fraser instead.

And before that, there was Valkyrie, a bizarre World War II movie where all the Nazis have British accents and the Holocaust never happened. Ironically, the most interesting thing about Valkyrie was a comment Cruise made while he was doggedly doing publicity for Bryan Singer's flop.

Cruise played Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg, a "heroic" Nazi (Sorry, but I can't put "nazi" and "heroic" in the same sentence without gagging) officer who risks his life to join a botched assassination plot against Hitler. Unfortunately, this was a big problem because Cruise isn't good at playing heroes. When promoting Singer's film, Cruise said, "I'm not saying this in some chest-pounding way, but I do feel I'd have that kind of courage." What Cruise doesn't understand is that a hero puts himself at risk because he cares about other people. Cruise only cares about himself.

Throughout his career, Cruise plays the same role repeatedly: a cold, ego-driven narcissist who uses his co-stars as stepping stones as he ascends to his well-deserved reward. In Rain Man, The Firm, Top Gun, or Jerry Maguire, it's All About Tom. I've never seen such a naked sense of entitlement in an actor. To be fair, there certainly isn't a short of egomaniacs in Hollywood. Take Robert Downey, Jr., for example. There's a big difference between Downey and Cruise, however. Besides being a superior actor, there's a muted vulnerability in Downey. Downey wants you to like him. Conversely, not only does Cruise expects to be liked, he also wants to be adored, worshiped and deified.

Fittingly enough, I think Mr. Scientology's true talent is in playing creeps or villains. In Tropic Thunder, Cruise's cameo as a loud, obnoxious, foul-mouthed studio guy was actually funny. In Michael Mann's Collateral, it was the most honest and unguarded performance Cruise did in years because he didn't have to worry about audiences liking him. Not only was Cruise's icy reserve ominously appropriate for his brutally-efficient killing machine, it gave him the freedom to relax and not rely on his usual mannerisms. Watching these movies again, you remember there was a good reason why Cruise used to be a top-ranked movie star.

Still, I almost feel sorry for Cruise. He's at an awkward transitional period in his career and he doesn't know what to do. It happens when movie stars get older and they have to act their age. Will Smith (another superior actor) understands this. That's why he smoothly stepped away from noisy blockbusters (Bad Boys, Independence Day) to do more challenging movies like The Pursuit of Happyness and Seven Pounds.

Cruise hasn't been able to do that yet. Cruise's fan base isn't getting any bigger, and contemporary audiences are bored by this smirking android. And how long has it been since Cruise has played a great, or heck--even an interesting character that hasn't been a supporting role? In The War of The Worlds, Cruise is a Dad Without A Clue who does almost-heroic acts by accident. In Valkyrie, Cruise is a vacuum wearing a Nazi uniform and an eye patch. In Knight and Day Cruise is a grinning, charmless psychopath with as much charisma as a Ken doll. Lately, there is no there there. One day Cruise is going to look into the mirror and see nothing staring back.