I pulled a muscle the other day picking up a potato chip off the kitchen floor. As I recuperated on the couch, I clicked on the most recent “Mission: Impossible — The Final Reckoning” trailer. I watched Tom Cruise fight off a knife attack, plunge into the ocean and hang off an airplane midflight while thinking, “This man is 12 years older than me.”
The last installment in the nearly 30-year-old blockbuster megafranchise catapults the 62-year-old Cruise onto movie screens around the country on Friday. And I can’t help but obsess over Cruise’s late-career pivot to glamorous stuntman. It isn’t just the perfect hair and ageless skin that draws me in; it’s the enthusiasm, the energy. Maybe the secret to eternal youth is playing make-believe? Or being a multimillionaire? Or both?
I can’t help but obsess over Cruise’s late-career pivot to glamorous stuntman.
Or maybe it’s just being boundlessly, unabashedly passionate. I’m not suggesting the crooked path to happiness is becoming a human crash-test dummy, but perhaps the world would be a better place if men cared about a job, a hobby or a project the way Cruise cares about, to quote the great philosopher-actor Vin Diesel, “da movies.”
Say what you will about Cruise, but he never phones it in. The same cannot be said for an increasing number of people raised in online echo chambers.
Instead, I see a veritable generation of men whose ambitions have been stunted by social media-fueled anger and fear, who spend hours listening to other men complaining into podcast microphones. There’s a destructive, self-pitying impulse in bro culture that I sympathize with — to a point. But eventually, one must accept responsibility for one’s life and stop blaming others.
There’s a recent meme asking for the cure for male loneliness. I think the cure might be accepting missions impossible — or possible — with your best friends.
When it comes to movies, I’m omnivorous. The “Mission: Impossible” series explores timeless human themes like man vs. death trap. Every movie is a race to defuse something bad. But to be a fan of “Mission: Impossible,” one must be a fan of its star.
There is a distinct lack of heroes, made up or not, in the zeitgeist. Hollywood used to mint all-American heroes who sold solid virtues like courage and honesty and decency. Today, we have superheroes and anti-heroes, and Cruise, whose Ethan Hunt character is manly and also kind of corny.
Cruise is not a real-life hero, I know that. But I cheer for him anyway. I’m always happy when Ethan Hunt accepts his next impossible mission and pulls it off, with a little help.
The trajectory of Cruise’s 44-year career is a fascinating study in endurance and reinvention. He was a grinning hotshot in early movies like 1986’s “Top Gun,” and quickly matured into an actor who could hold his own against acting legends like Dustin Hoffman in 1988’s “Rain Man,” and work with Oscar-winning directors like Oliver Stone. One of his most popular roles was in Paul Thomas Anderson’s indie classic “Magnolia,” in which he played an abrasive motivational speaker. He proved he has a vicious sense of humor in the 2008 dude comedy “Tropic Thunder,” playing foul-mouthed studio executive Les Grossman.
He survived a career pothole in the early aughts when he seemed out of control, speaking out against psychiatry and jumping up and down on Oprah’s couch as he confessed his undying love for Katie Holmes (she would later divorce him). That episode happened during a promotional tour for 2005’s “War of the Worlds,” the second of two pop masterpieces he made with Steven Spielberg (the first being 2002’s dystopian and arguably prophetic “Minority Report”). Then, there is his relationship with the influential and controversial Church of Scientology, of which he is a celebrated member — a nigh messianic figure. His public intensity toward that fringe religion almost cratered his career.
Almost. But his second act has saved his reputation — and ability to sell movie tickets.









