Mission: Unendurable

The fickle American movie-going audience has finally gotten sick of Tom Cruise – “Mission: Impossible: III� dropped a whopping 50 percent in its second weekend, after a much softer than expected opening.

This is clearly a rejection of the star rather than the vehicle – “M:I:III� is no better and no worse than the same slick, cynical (dare we say “glib?�) crap that Cruise usually churns out (he’s been in a few surprisingly good movies, but really, not that many). A poll on AOL a couple of weeks ago somewhat shockingly showed that people have really turned on the guy – only 38 percent professed any affection for him. Which surprises me, because people are still fascinated with such dimwits as Britney Spears and Jessica Simpson and Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan (God, there are an awful lot of those interchangeable bubbleheads – can’t we pare a few off the pop-culture rolls?), and they’re arguably far worse citizens than Cruise.

Just as Hugh Grant’s rehabilitation press tour back in 1995 should be taught in public-relations courses, the past year of Cruise’s life should be taught, as well, as an example of how not to conduct a press campaign. As we all know, this public meltdown has been 10 kinds of fun to watch. How many people do you know could actually increase skeptical speculation about one’s personal life through the simple act of dating and impregnating someone? Only Tom. Kudos, pal.

This should create a renewed appreciation for promonatrix Pat Kingsley – her managing to keep a lid on that bubbling cauldron of crazy for as long as she did is a miracle akin to the Virgin Mary’s image turning up on a pancake.

(An aside: I interviewed Cruise for the first “M:I� movie in his office on the Paramount lot. The interview was scheduled at lunchtime, and there was a huuuge spread of food on a table – enough food, at least, for a party of 12 – and two plates. We sat at the table – Cruise never turned toward the food, and so neither did I – and chatted for an hour or so, the food just sitting there. When it came time for the interview to wind down, Kingsley entered the office and, taking in the spread, enthused to me, “Well, they’re certainly taking good care of you!� How, exactly, were they doing that: Allowing me to look at a whole big bunch of food? Good care, indeed. One of my stranger interview experiences.)

Anyway, I’m still puzzling over “M:I:III,� particularly that finale. (Yes, spoiler ahead, as if you care; as if spoilers matter in movies like this.) They establish that stealing the Rabbit’s Foot (coyly but idiotically, they never explain what the Rabbit’s Foot actually is) represents perhaps their most impossible mission ever. Then, the movie goes something like this:

Tom: "Oh, this is going to be hard."
Ving Rhames: "Yeah, this is really gonna be tough."
Tom: "Well, I'm off."
(cut to Tom's other co-stars)
One Co-star: "I wonder how Tom's doing with this most extraordinarily difficult challenge?"
Another co-star: "I hope he's OK, because this mission – well, it’s just off the scale in terms of impossibility."
Tom: "OK, I'm done; come get me."

Huh? Did I attend a screening with a reel missing? When you make a popcorn movie, isn’t that the scene above all others that you’re supposed to show?

As badly as “M:I:III� is doing, “Poseidon� tanked even worse: A mere $20 million for its opening weekend, and it even cost more than the Cruise flick. What kind of big-time stars do you get for $160 million? Um, not too much: Kurt Russell, Richard Dreyfuss, Josh Lucas, Jacinda Barrett (who?), Mike Vogel (who?) and Andre Braugher.