Fun
Frisky
Nostalgic
Intense
Adventurous
Choked Up
Curious
Romantic
Weird
These days, we’re much more likely to see Tom Cruise jumping out of a plane than we are jumping into an under-the-radar, daring drama. And that’s just fine! The Mission: Impossible movies only seem to get better with each new installment (I’m legitimately counting down the days till Fallout), and Cruise is the biggest movie star in the world for a reason – he’s damn good at it. He’s an All-American hero (well, if you don’t think about all that Scientology stuff), a guy we can all get behind. We want to see him beat the bad guys and flash that winning smile, because he’s Tom Cruise, goddamnit, and that’s what he was born to do. Before his résumé was mostly action fare and sequels, however, Cruise appeared in a wide variety of films, from Born on the Fourth of July and A Few Good Men to Jerry Maguire and Eyes Wide Shut. All these films (and many more) have established him as one of our most versatile working actors (though we’re wont to forget this nowadays), but there’s one Tom Cruise movie I’ll never be able to shake: Magnolia. On his 56th birthday, we’re looking back at his most devastating role.
Putting the fact that Magnolia is one of my favorite films of all time aside, you’d be hard-pressed to find a better Tom Cruise performance anywhere else. It may seem like an impossible mission to pick a “best” Cruise performance, and this isn’t discounting the incredible work he’s done elsewhere. But Frank “T.J.” Mackey is in an entirely different league from any other character Cruise has ever played. This miracle of a performance exists because of the perfect marriage of Cruise’s talent and willingness to go there and writer-director Paul Thomas Anderson. Mackey is a crass monster, a man whose entire brand is built on treating women like sex toys. When he struts across that stage and demands that we “RESPECT THE COCK!”, it’s difficult not to immediately despise him – but that twisted charisma makes it impossible to look away. We know he can’t be entirely rotten to his core, but is there anyone worth redeeming beneath it all? Over the film’s three hours, we chip away at his thorny exterior until we finally reach the trembling boy inside – and there’s nothing quite like the catharsis that ensues.
Magnolia offers us a glimpse into Cruise’s vast emotional spectrum; from the clownish, loathsome man riding high on stage to the angry, petulant child caught off-guard during his interview, we see his highs and lows, his fears, his rage. These libido-fueled moments may act as a testament to Cruise’s versatility, but the real magic happens when he finally confronts the father who abandoned him. Every inhale feels totally honest, and it’s likely because it was: Cruise reportedly drew from his own experience with his father for the scene. I’ve watched the scene dozens of times, and I catch something new with every viewing. The first part of his monologue is all in one take, and the steady rise in tension is nearly unbearable.
“I’m not gonna cry,” he spits out, but his words have already betrayed him – two tears roll down his cheek. It’s when my own tears begin to flow, too, without fail, every single damn time. We’ve spent over two hours hating this man and all that he stands for, but in that moment, and in the complete, full-body sobs that follow, he’s just as vulnerable and devastated as the rest of us, navigating this impossible scenario the best way he can. Cruise goes to a place that few actors might ever dare, reaches deep into his soul to find heartache and resentment and agony that many of us likely can’t fathom.
Tom Cruise may be able to pull off death-defying stunts better than anyone else out there, but he’s accomplished no greater feat than that of Magnolia, a true spectacle of emotional proportions. Frank “T.J.” Mackey is more impressive than scaling any skyscraper or hanging off the side of a plane, because in the end, Cruise does the impossible: he makes us feel for someone we want to see fail. And that’s a mission most would never accept.
