Tom Cruise: An Unauthorized Biography pdfdrive com

Variety, the Bible of the entertainment industry, captured the hostile mood in
January 2008. It did not make reassuring reading for the man who had recently
been the biggest box-office draw in the world. Bart wrote, “Since the appearance
of the Cruise salute [Tom’s Scientology video], I have been peppered with
anecdotes from top players in the industry describing instances in which Cruise
has used his bully pulpit to advance his cause. His fervor is tilting the
entertainment community against him. He is a target of suspicion rather than
respect.” Arguing that a film star’s brand should remain bland, Bart continued,
“Cruise’s advocacy of Scientology and its satellite causes seems to have become
even more strident and contentious. More than ever, his actions reflect the
conviction that he, Tom Terrific, has sole and unique access to the ultimate truth
about life, science and cinema.”
Whatever his views on life, Hollywood was beginning to doubt his cinematic
choices. The financial and artistic failure of Lions for Lambs, his first movie as
the head of United Artists, placed more pressure on his second big feature,
Valkyrie, about the doomed attempt to assassinate Hitler. It was a troubled shoot,
dogged by bad publicity and misadventures on the set, such as a studio fire and
injuries sustained by a number of extras. The frequent change of the film’s
release date merely added to the air of pessimism. Obituary writers were

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beginning to sharpen their pencils. “Is Tom Cruise’s career over?” asked a
headline in The Week.
For once it seems that the actor was prepared to listen to the warning voices
inside the industry. In March 2008 he swallowed his pride and invited Viacom
head Sumner Redstone—the man who had publicly sacked him from Paramount
—out for lunch. Their very public rapprochement at the Beverly Hills Hotel
seemed to signify that Tom was once more back in the fold—and back with a
chance of making Mission: Impossible 1V. “We agreed that past is the past and
we would put it behind us and renew our relationship,” said Mr. Redstone
afterwards. “It seems clear,” noted Hollywood insider Kim Masters, “that Cruise
has begun to appreciate the magnitude of career damage that he has inflicted
upon himself, though he may not completely grasp the cause.” Operation Career
Recovery was now underway.
The rebranding—or as Peter Bart might say, the “reblanding”—of Tom Cruise
began in earnest when he invited Oprah Winfrey to join him at his ranch in
Telluride, Colorado. After giving Oprah a tour of the sprawling property—the
highlight was a miniature “office” for baby Suri—he sat sedately on his
overstuffed sofa and attempted to explain away the pitfalls and pratfalls of the
recent past. Oprah obligingly helped out whenever he struggled for the right
language; it was less of an interview than Hollywood royalty communing with
itself.
In the hour-long chat, he regretted his attack on Brooke Shields but not the
sofa-jumping incident. He denied that Nicole Kidman was prevented from
seeing their two adopted children, Connor and Bella—the teenagers flew to
Nashville to meet with Sunday Rose, Kidman’s baby daughter, a couple of
weeks after her birth in July; suggested that his opposition to psychiatry was
focused on drugs for children; and argued that his now-infamous video was
taken out of context. (On this issue he was correct; if the public had been
allowed to see the three-hour Scientology extravaganza where David Miscavige
talked of using “smart bombs” and “booby traps” to “globally obliterate”
psychiatry, they might have been even more alarmed.)
“Listen, I feel like definitely things have been misunderstood and there are
things I could have done better,” he explained in a performance that was
uncharacteristically sober and low-key. “From now on when I’m dealing with
my humanitarian issues, I’ll talk about my humanitarian issues and when I’m
promoting a film I’m just going to promote the film. And that’s just the way it’s
going to be.” His announcement may have been a blow to his church, but it was
music to the ears of Hollywood honchos—and to his fans, who were now able to
chart his cinematic life on his new website.

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Tom’s appearance on Oprah was seen as a smart move by media
professionals. “I think Tom learned his lesson,” said Howard Bragman, founder
of the L.A. PR firm, Fifteen Minutes. “The lesson was that sometimes your
personal beliefs can get in the way of the projects.”
He also seemed to have heeded the advice of George Clooney, who suggested
he learn to laugh at himself. In the next stage of his comeback, he reminded
moviegoers why he had been at the top for twenty-five years—because he is a
good actor. In Tropic Thunder, a satire of the movie industry by Ben Stiller
released in August 2008, he played a fat, ugly, bald, and foul-mouthed
executive. His cameo as a kind of “Hollywood Satan” earned high praise from
the critics. “Who could have foreseen Tom Cruise nearly stealing the movie in a
fat suit, a prosthetic nose, a skinhead wig and an Austin Powers–style mat of
chest fur?” wrote Slate’s Dana Stevens. Cruise and Stiller had talks about
making another comedy, an updated version of The Hardy Boys. First, though,
he planned to move back into familiar territory, making an international spy
thriller called The Tourist.
It was clear, however, that Cruise was at a career crossroads. While still a
popular and attractive actor, he was no longer a sure bet to open a movie. Now at
forty-six, his time as a heartthrob who could carry a picture armed only with his
gleaming smile seemed to be coming to a close. As film critic Richard Crouse
observed: “The days of line-ups around the block for the new Tom Cruise are
gone even if he tried to revive his career with another Mission: Impossible or