Tom Cruise since the mid 90’s has pioneered, or at least epitomized, a movie archetype that has helped define the most recent era of cinema: the hyper-focused, sexless action hero. Whereas action stars before him won audiences with natural charm or at least physical prowess, Cruise, who has neither, has instead built an empire around compelling viewers to watch him—through sheer dedication to giving viewers what no one else will give. Insane stunts. Mind-bending plots. Envelope-pushing pace.
Top Gun: Maverick may be his definitive work. MI5: Rogue Nation (2015) and MI6: Fallout (2018) are more inventive, but they’re also more absurd. Maverick feels like the “right” balance of implausible action and mindfulness of (if not fealty to) the laws of reality. For example, yes, the anonymous enemy neglects to guard a canyon that leads directly to their target. (They’re clearly third-world; they’ve never seen Star Wars.) But there’s enough talk about planes and tactics and losing consciousness that things still feel grounded enough.
It’s also Cruise’s most reflective film. Specifically, the plot functions as a meditation on the approaching end to his own movie stardom. Cruise’s character, Pete “Maverick” Mitchell, is dressed down by his turnkey boss: “The future is coming. And you’re not in it.” This could surely double as admonishment to Cruise himself, who, at 60, strains credibility by merely appearing in a movie like this. And Mitchell’s notorious habits—pushing limits, bucking trends, endangering himself—are Cruise’s own as an actor.
Watching the movie with this meta interpretation in mind, I wasn’t as bothered by its obvious weaknesses. For instance, Cruise, never a standout in romantic scenes, even in Jerry Maguire (1996), can’t hold up his end of the film’s halfhearted love story. Grinning stupidly throughout, he plays the part as 16, not 60. Costar Jennifer Connelly, a skilled performer in serious erotic roles, has been hired to convince us that Cruise is still sexy, or even that he used to be. The effort is futile.
But flat notes like these only reinforce the elegiac feeling that Cruise is running out of gas, that this is his last hurrah. As his character emphasizes to his trainees with curious intensity: “Time is your greatest adversary.”
Further heralding the imminent end of the line, Cruise’s costar from the original film, Val Kilmer, appears in cameo as a cancer-ridden, speech-challenged shadow of his former self. This isn’t an act: Kilmer actually has lost the power of speech amidst a real life battle with throat cancer. His character dies mid-film. Cruise stands alone.
Tom Cruise has never been an Avenger. He has never been an avatar. He has never been a wizard or a jedi or a hobbit. In an cinematic era dominated by fantasy, Cruise has planted himself stubbornly in action-hero realism. So when he and a protege take charge of an ancient F-14 plane (the protege exclaims, “This thing is so old!”), we should catch the symbolism. The meaning: they’re about to do this old school. No magic, no superpowers, no cliffhangers. Just good old fashioned shooting, ducking, and yelling. And they do it. And it works.
But Cruise is only one person, and he knows that despite his contributions, the industry has moved in a different direction. Perhaps this is why for most of the film he plays a teacher to a new generation. His mantra: what matters isn’t the equipment or even the task at hand, but rather “the person in the cockpit.” If there was ever a more grandiose statement from an actor, I’m not aware of it. (Cruise’s experiences with scientology likely haven’t done much to dampen his ego.) Exiting his role as Hollywood’s biggest action star, he wants his successors to know that they can singlehandedly drive a film—and that, by extension, he singlehandedly drove his.
That may be outlandish self-aggrandizement, but given Cruise’s output over the past two decades, how can we argue? Until he slips up, we can only admire.
Top Gun: Maverick is an entertaining throwback that pleads for successors. Will anyone answer the call? Cruise has faith: all of his students are portrayed as skilled and worthy, even the arrogant pretty boy. (Maybe especially the arrogant pretty boy, who’s possibly a version of Cruise as a young man. Indeed, evidence abounds that Cruise likes him the most.)
I have less faith. But one thing is for sure: whatever Cruise puts out in his remaining years as an actor, this is his final bow. After seeming to insist on eternal youth in the last two Mission Impossibles, he has finally surveyed his place in moviemaking and acknowledged:
“Time is your greatest adversary.”
–Jim Andersen
For more reviews, see my review of Tár.