In an interview regarding Magnolia, Paul Thomas Anderson was asked about his collaboration with Tom Cruise. During their conversation, the interviewer commented that Magnolia was a far cry from Mission: Impossible due to its dramatic influence. Anderson refuted the comparison and the implication that one film was lesser than the other, stating that “acting is hard no matter what you are doing. It's hard to make a movie, and it's hard to act… it's all challenging”.

     I have thought about this quote more as Top Gun: Maverick fades in the rearview window and Mission: Impossible: Dead Reckoning breaks through the horizon. In these last few months, I have become a big Tom Cruise fan– I’ve watched thirty of his features and revisited multiple titles within that selection. I am the first to admit I once was someone who dismissed him– I listened to the jabs delivered by those around me and took them as representative of him and his career. People assume he is one-note or that he has puckered out in his later work and “refuses dramatic roles”. When I began to watch his films for myself, I realized how misguided these thoughts are. 

       First, his roles may have similar stories, but that does not make them one-note. A director may spend their entire career questioning a particular aspect of their life, and they will be called a genius for their focus. Why can the same not be said about an actor? Are they not allowed to ponder their performances and be pulled to specific stories? To me, his performances are slow-burning, like wax dripping down the side of a candle. You are mesmerized by his movement, unaware that the wick is at its end. When the film teeters out, you are surprised– you were so pulled in by him, so enraptured in his charm and vulnerability that you had no clue time had passed. Sometimes, this happens throughout one film, and other times it happens throughout many. 

        That leads me to my second point– action films can have as much dramatic weight as a standard narrative feature. The snobbish attitude towards action films is limiting– as a cinema fan, you should be willing to engage and find artistry in all movies. Action films take incredible physical and emotional effort to pull off– no other person could do what Tom Cruise does. I find this especially true for the Mission: Impossible franchise, where he has spent over twenty years as Ethan Hunt. 

       When looking at the Mission: Impossible franchise from afar, it is easy to assume Ethan Hunt remains the same. Fearless, determined, cocky, and selfless– it is what we registered when he first flipped cards between his fingers, and it is what stuck when he scaled the Burj Khalifa and scoured the catwalks of the opera. When we see someone often enough, and when they are repeatedly chivalrous, it is easy to assume they are formidable. However, all things on this earth shall crack– nothing is safe. I have been watching the Mission: Impossible series for the first time, and I made sure to steer clear of any massive spoilers to make my experience as stimulating as possible. When I got to Mission: Impossible: Fallout, the latest entry in the series, I sat with my mouth agape the entire time. Ethan is so different in Fallout– he is worn down and unsettled by years of loyalty to an organization that would sooner sink its knife into his back than shake his hand. The smirks and flirtations faded away, leaving hard eyes and furrowed brows distrustful of the world. I just watched the entire series– how did I miss his transformation? When did it happen? I sat back, rewatched some other entries, and realized it had been happening all along. Cruise has clocked each and every one of Ethan’s wounds– whether physical or emotional– and has given them weight in his shifting psyche. Bit by bit, dire events have chipped at him– the sudden loss of his team in Mission: Impossible, the forced separation from his wife in Mission: Impossible: III, the threat towards his partners in Mission: Impossible: Ghost Protocol, Rogue Nation, and Fallout, and the constant belittling from his organization– until all that is left is the rubble of a more devoted man. He still fulfills his duty, but by Rogue Nation and Fallout, as he watches Ilsa get backed into a wall, he wonders what he is doing all this for. Ethan has given up his ability to be a father, husband, and man to ensure the world turns another day. He has attempted to leave this life, only for the IMF to beg for assistance. Once he serves his purpose, they toss him aside like a worn rag. He could die on the job, and the only one who would remember his last breath would be himself. The IMF would cover it up, and he would be lost to time, his efforts only known by those on his team lucky enough to survive. 

         It is not lost on me that Cruise has aged alongside Ethan– he began when he was thirty-four and is now sixty during the filming of Mission: Impossible: Dead Reckoning. Like Ethan, Cruise has had his ebb and flow in Hollywood. He has come a long way from the soft, shy smile of the early eighties. He knows the movie business well now– he has seen its ugliness and beauty. The very industry that Cruise helped elevate to its deity status has cast him aside, refusing his unshakeable presence as a movie star. Still, despite their calloused words and attitudes, he dedicates himself to his work. Ethan and Cruise watch the everchanging world from their isolated steep, separated from normalcy due to their infamy.  

     I hope general audiences begin to appreciate Tom Cruise’s complexities after the release of Dead Reckoning: Part One. For forty years, he has delivered impeccable performances across many genres. He gives his flesh to each character, allowing them to become actualized people. He breaks your heart with a twitch of his jaw, needing no words to express all his secrets. I feel privileged to be mesmerized by Cruise's incandescent glow. When his flame finally goes out, and we are left alone in the chilling night, we will realize how lucky we were to have him.