An impossible mission: Ranking Tom Cruise's 25 best movies

One of only a few Cruise forays into pure sci-fi, Oblivion coasts on its coolly sophisticated dystopian visuals, its central mystery, and the fact there are only about a dozen people in the entire movie and one of them is an A-list actor we can’t take our eyes off of. Cruise plays a technician who repairs drones on a planet Earth that’s been nearly destroyed and rendered uninhabitable by an invading alien civilization. He gives the movie more than its thin story deserves, by not only demonstrating his physicality but also imbuing his character—mostly alone save for his lover, played by Andrea Riseborough, and someone whose identity is best not spoiled, played by Morgan Freeman—with some dimension. Directed by Tron: Legacy’s Joseph Kosinski, the twist-filled Oblivion is a victory of style over substance that’s absorbing enough and deserves a second look, even as a minor entry in the Tom Cruise canon. [Mark Keizer]

Cruise’s first major movie role was in director Harold Becker’s 1981 drama Taps, where he plays one of the rebellious students fighting to save his military academy from being torn down and replaced with condominiums. The film also stars the great George C. Scott as the school’s top muckety-muck and—in his film debut—Sean Penn. Even at the tender age of 19, Cruise showed an intensity and seriousness of purpose that would serve him well as he began his career as a leading man and climber of tall mountains and buildings in the Mission: Impossible franchise. Cruise was originally only going to be a background player in Taps, but when Becker saw Cruise during boot camp training with his fellow actors “out-marching the other cadets on the parade field,” he was upped to the crucial role of the academy’s gun-happy, gung-ho rebel. [Mark Keizer]

By 1993, Cruise was firmly established (no pun intended) as an A-list star, and his adaptation of The Firm kicked off a series of high-profile films based on John Grisham’s page-turners. The Firm accelerated Cruise’s transition from an enforcer of institutions (as he was in Top Gun) to someone who begins to question them (as wunderkind law firm hire Mitch McDeere). Cruise had already worked with Oliver Stone, Barry Levinson, Ron Howard, and Rob Reiner by this point, so teaming up with Sydney Pollack was a no-brainer, especially on a film that leveraged Pollack’s political-thriller pedigree to such brilliant effect. Holly Hunter, then on her own hot streak, ended up being the only cast member to receive an acting nomination, but as the anchor of an ensemble that also included Jeanne Trippelhorn, Ed Harris, Hal Holbrook, David Strathairn, and the great Gene Hackman as Mitch’s benevolent, feckless mentor, Cruise sprinted his way to box office glory and acting acclaim. [Todd Gilchrist]

Cruise released four movies between Mission: Impossible 3 and Ghost Protocol and they show his career listing a bit while he attempts escape velocity on the rocket ship of M:I sequels. The worst of the four was 2007’s boring PoliSci lecture Lions For Lambs and if you remove the failed franchise starter Knight And Day, and his glorified cameo in the hilarious Tropic Thunder, you’re really left with 2008’s Valkyrie as the best of the bunch. Cruise plays real-life German Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg, who led an assassination attempt on Adolph Hitler in 1944. Cruise, attempting a measured twist on his all-American persona by playing a Nazi who nevertheless wants to kill Hitler, doesn’t always look comfortable in his eyepatch and questionable German accent. However, the film is a meticulously plotted retelling of a fascinating chapter in the history of World War II. Whatever its merits (or demerits) the film did one thing right: it introduced Cruise to writer Christopher McQuarrie who would go on to direct Cruise in 2012’s Jack Reacher and then shepherd the M:I series starting with 2015’s Rogue Nation. [Mark Keizer]

War Of The Worlds, Cruise’s second collaboration with Steven Spielberg, put him at the mercy of the filmmaker’s post-9/11 introspection as they teamed up to adapt H.G. Wells’ iconic science-fiction novel into a meditation on the terror, physically and psychologically, of existential and largely unknowable threats. Cruise bravely takes on one of his least flattering roles as a deadbeat dad who has to take care of his estranged son (Justin Chatwin) and anxiously dependent daughter (Dakota Fanning) as they make the trek to reunite with his ex-wife. Under Spielberg’s confident guidance, Cruise gives the character the right amount of unlikeable elements, even as he and his children face escalating challenges to find safety in the face of an alien invasion. The director’s muscular set pieces create some unforgettable moments, although the film’s emotional throughline doesn’t measure up to Minority Report, the previous Cruise-Spielberg collaboration. [Todd Gilchrist]

Nowadays, the Mission: Impossible series is best known as the franchise in which Tom Cruise risks his life trying some crazy stunt for the sake of an Imax screen. In the beginning, however, it was an extension of Cruise’s desire to work with visionary directors, from Brian De Palma to John Woo, and allow them to put their own distinctive spins (or doves) on the material. Ghost Protocol was the installment in which the transition occurred, and remains the best fusion of both approaches. The feature live-action directorial debut of beloved animation auteur Brad Bird, Ghost Protocol was the first in the M:I series to really feel like a “team saving the world” movie rather than a mostly personal revenge narrative—with Bond-level nuclear war stakes. When the inevitable big stunt comes—Cruise scaling the Burj Khalifa, on the outside—it’s telling that, as enthusiastic as Cruise himself may have been to do the stunt, Ethan Hunt’s in-character reluctance (and frustration that the circumstances keep getting worse) is palpable. For maybe the last time, Hunt felt like a genuine underdog. [Luke Y. Thompson]

The Mission: Impossible series has one thing in common with the James Bond franchise pre-Daniel Craig: despite spending decades watching the character’s exploits, the amount of things we know about them personally can probably be counted on the fingers of one hand. There’s only a handful of actors we’re willing to spend that much time with while knowing next to nothing about who they’re playing, their history, their desires, and their personal wants and needs. Cruise is, of course, one of them. All we really need to see is Cruise running, jumping, and fighting and we’re happy. Seven films in, he continues to be a real-life action figure and his performance in Dead Reckoning Part One is less one of character-crafting than physical endurance and a willingness to possibly die on camera. To that end, Cruise continues to kill it, so to speak, and his advancing age only makes Ethan Hunt seem more mortal ... even if we’ve been paying good money for 27 years to disavow ourselves of that knowledge. [Mark Keizer]

Dustin Hoffman won a Best Actor Academy Award for his role as an autistic savant in Barry Levinson’s 1988 Rain Man. But despite the verbal and physical tics that suggest Hoffman was the Oscar-worthy thespian, Cruise also had a tough assignment: hold the entire film together. He plays Charlie Babbitt, a fast-talking car salesman who discovers that his late father’s fortune has been placed in a trust meant to support Raymond (Hoffman), the autistic brother he never knew existed. So Charlie takes Raymond on a cross-country road trip with the ultimate goal of fleecing him out of his money. Because Raymond cannot change as a character it’s up to Cruise to take the emotional journey. And he’s more than up to the task. He shows great range and subtlety as he goes from an egocentric huckster trying to take advantage of his brother to a much less egocentric huckster who chooses family over money. According to Hoffman, Tom even wrote his dialogue over and over in his own handwriting to better internalize the words. Rain Man, which was almost directed by Steven Spielberg before he jumped off to helm the third Indiana Jones movie, went on to become Cruise’s first and, so far, only Best Picture Oscar winner. [Mark Keizer]

Francis Ford Coppola was so impressed by Cruise’s performance in his 1983 drama The Outsiders that he offered him a role in his next film, Rumble Fish. Shockingly, Tom turned down the genius behind Apocalypse Now and The Godfather to star in a comedy by a novice director about a high school teen who transforms his home into a brothel while his parents are on vacation. Talk about a risk! But the film, Paul Brickman’s teen lark and capitalist satire, Risky Business, afforded Cruise his first leading role. He auditioned for the part of clean-cut, smooth-talking entrepreneur Joel Goodsen while still sporting his chipped tooth and greasy hair from The Outsiders. But Brickman trusted Cruise, who proved he’ll do whatever it takes for a role by shedding 14 pounds of muscle in five weeks and then adding a layer of baby fat to convey Joel’s youthful insecurity and vulnerability. Otherwise, Tom’s unshakable confidence, sly intelligence and megawatt smile are all deployed in full for the first time. When Cruise slid across the living room floor to Bob Seger’s “Old Time Rock & Roll” wearing only socks, underwear, and a dress shirt, he also slipped into the hearts and minds of movie lovers—where he remains to this day. [Mark Keizer]

One of the most overlooked qualities that Cruise frequently brings to the screen, especially in his earlier roles, is the resonant sense of being in over his head. That ability serves him exceedingly well in A Few Good Men, where he plays a plea-bargaining Naval JAG officer known for taking the easy way out of legal showdowns. When faced with the ugly institutional truths he discovers while tasked with a murder case, Cruise must engage in the ultimate courtroom confrontation against a decidedly hostile witness in the form of Jack Nicholson, as formidable and intimidating a cinematic scene partner as they come. Armed with smart, elevated dialogue by Aaron Sorkin and snappy, actor-friendly direction from Rob Reiner, Cruise uses his skill for out-of-his-depth-but-resolute conviction to effectively face down the screen-devouring Nicholson. Cruise’s brief moments of scenery-chewing serve his rattled character’s cause well as he baits and turns the tide against the fearsome Marine colonel. A suitably knotty plot, core themes of morality and accountability and an excellent supporting cast—Demi Moore, Kevin Pollack, Kevin Bacon, Kiefer Sutherland and the late, great J.T. Walsh—help distinguish the film as a crackerjack courtroom potboiler, and one that stands the test of time. [Scott Huver]

In combining the derring-do of a Bond film with the real-world spy craft of a Tom Clancy novel, Mission: Impossible didn’t just require Cruise to take a big leap in the physical sense. Comfortably into his thirties, it was also Cruise’s first producing effort and, by all accounts, he took it seriously, slam dunking this big-budget reboot of a faded TV series, which is mostly remembered for Lalo Schifrin’s theme music. Considering Cruise has performed increasingly perilous stunts with each M:I sequel, it’s rather quaint that in the franchise’s 1996 debut, America’s success on the geopolitical stage rests on a single bead of sweat dangling from his glasses as he hangs from wires in a temperature controlled vault. But dammit, it’s still a heart-stopping scene and arguably the most iconic moment of the entire series. Like most Mission: Impossible films, the mission of understanding the plot is impossible to accept. But as long as Cruise, as superspy Ethan Hunt, knows what’s going on, we’ll just sit back and enjoy the ride. It would take a sequel or three before the series really took off, but let’s give Tom some credit for foresight: before the IP era completely swallowed Hollywood, Cruise had already established his own movie franchise. [Mark Keizer]

Cruise has carefully crafted his onscreen persona over the decades, and a large part of that has come down to him being instantly recognizable as Tom Cruise and all that encompasses. Ben Stiller’s Tropic Thunder gave Cruise a chance to cut loose, get low, and escape his movie star looks with the help of prosthetics in order to become the crude, hot-tempered producer Les Grossman. What originally began as a smaller role, one eventually filled by Matthew McConaughey, became a newly created supporting one after Cruise suggested adding a studio head to the satire. From his hairy, over-sized hands, his dancing to Flo Rida’s “Low,” and his foul mouth—something audiences weren’t used to seeing from Cruise on screen—Grossman became one of the breakout characters from the summer of 2008. The role is even more refreshing in context, landing right between Cruise’s roles in the more self-serious Lions for Lambs and Valkyrie. Cruise reprised the role at the MTV Movie Awards in 2010, leading Paramount to announce a spin-off centered on the character, which has yet to materialize. Even if we never see Grossman again, the role set the stage for Cruise’s career over the next decade, reminding audiences that even a star as well-known as Cruise was still full of surprises. [Richard Newby]

Director Doug Liman’s American Made is not based on existing IP which made some audiences believe that Cruise—by now entrenched in his many impossible missions—had signed up by mistake. But it’s the film’s relative lack of blockbuster pretense that made it so refreshing. In what can only be described as the moral flip side to Top Gun, Cruise plays real-life TWA pilot Barry Seal, who was recruited to fly reconnaissance missions and take surveillance photos for the CIA but winds up transporting drugs for a South American cartel. None of this sounds very “Tom Cruise” which is why American Made unfairly flew under the radar. It’s more fun than you think with Cruise getting about as topical as he’s been since 1989’s decidedly less fun Born On The Fourth Of July. But this time, he does it with a charm and bravado bordering on that distinctly American brand of devil-may-care foolishness. [Mark Keizer]

If Cruise had never made another film after this one, he would likely still have attained a cinematic immortality akin to that of James Dean. He was, quite simply, the perfect star for the perfect movie at the perfect moment, embodying every iota of the rah-rah, buffed-up, live-fast American machismo, however occasionally overconfident, that epitomized the 1980s. His performance was further enhanced by director Tony Scott’s decidedly groundbreaking, nail-biting visual style—inspired by the hyper-speed edits of MTV music videos—and dynamically decorated by sleek aerial hardware supplied by the U.S. Navy. If Risky Business had strongly hinted at Cruise’s movie star promise, Top Gun took it supersonic.

Every star-turn talent that Cruise possesses, he expresses in its purest form here as Maverick, and it all plays like gangbusters: striking romantic sparks by butting heads with an initially antagonistic love interest (Kelly McGillis); giddily bro-ing out with his devoted sidekick (Anthony Edwards); cockily squaring off with his rival (Val Kilmer); defying the authority of his superiors (Tom Skerritt); self-flagellating when he crashes and burns; and emerging triumphant against tall odds. All of these would be key elements of Cruise’s pumped-up flight plan for the next three-plus decades, and—even wilder—the film, which was also a boon to military enlistment, still sends audiences into the stratosphere today. [Scott Huver]

Still in the thick of his quest to work with film’s leading auteurs, Cruise found his way to Michael Mann, the foremost maker of starry, moody crime dramas that were both atmospheric and action-packed. Their collaboration on Collateral was, perhaps unexpectedly, potent indeed, with Cruise taking on a rare—and quite effective—turn as the film’s principal bad guy, a contract killer whose cool, efficient exterior belies a deeply sadistic streak underneath when he casually terrorizes his hapless taxi driver (Jamie Foxx, in winning Everyman mode). Cruise leans into elements of his superstar persona; he’s a relentless, well-oiled machine in his action sequences, hinting at the increasingly impressive commitment to stunts ahead in his career. Though still in remarkable condition, he’s less immortal-looking when aged up with salt-and-pepper hair that complements his slate-gray business suit. The story is territory that Mann always navigates entertainingly, and the director’s penchant for two-handers featuring top talent pays off with the Cruise-Foxx pairing throughout the majority of the film, with both stars playing against type and striking combative sparks along the way. [Scott Huver]

After a decade of looking for a project to embark on together, two of the screen’s towering titans—Cruise and director Steven Spielberg—landed on Minority Report, a gem of a sci-fi thriller built out of ideas from visionary author Philip K. Dick: a dark, dystopian future landscape with thorny, still highly resonant moral questions at its heart. Cruise is a cop tasked with neutralizing crimes before they’re committed—“precrimes”—with the aid of precognitive predictive system that proves faulty. We get prime versions of two of the most enjoyable Cruise screen personas: first, the confident, capable action hero; and then, when the cop himself is accused of a future crime, Cruise turns to out-of-his-depth, struggling-to-survive mode. It’s a film noir scenario given fresh, vivid life by the lavishly detailed and startlingly plausible future environs that Spielberg crafts; beyond world-building the director further amps up the excitement by putting the very able Cruise through the paces of a classic Hitchcockian hero in a cyberpunk setting. The actor’s star-wattage perfectly complements Spielberg’s cinematic razzle-dazzle, and the result is a top-notch film that often goes underestimated in both Cruise and Spielberg’s body of work. [Scott Huver]

While two of the Mission: Impossible movies didn’t make this list—M:I—2 and Mission: Impossible 3—the ones that did stand out. Mission: Impossible—Fallout, like Rogue Nation, was written and directed by Christopher McQuarrie. But where Rogue Nation branched off from what had come before, Fallout felt like a cohesive thought that wasn’t inheriting its ideas. Here McQuarrie adds to the series’ foundation without being derivative in a film that also features mind-blowing set pieces that leverage Tom Cruise’s willingness to risk life and limb for the audience’s entertainment. In this installment, Cruise’s Ethan Hunt finds himself caught in the crossfire of an inter-organizational squabble as the IMF and the CIA both seek to regain nuclear weapons that Hunt sadly lost while saving his own team. The resulting pursuit, which not only involves parachuting over Paris, racing down the Champs-Elysses, and a helicopter chase over the Himalayas, creates extraordinary visuals and breathtaking action. The film is thrilling and genuinely affecting at the same time. [Todd Gilchrist]

Time travel, mech suits, aliens, Emily Blunt’s iconic push-up, and Tom Cruise playing a coward. Edge of Tomorrow really does have it all, along with plenty of heart, which is why it’s one of the best science-fiction movies of the past decade. Given its subject matter it isn’t surprising that Doug Liman’s adaptation of Hiroshi Sakurazaka’s sci-fi light novel gets better every time you revisit it. The film offered Cruise a chance to do something we’d never seen from him before—portray an action hero who’s really bad at the action stuff, at least at first. Despite his lengthy history in action movies, Cruise is completely believable as Cage, who gets caught in a time loop that forces him to relive the same day over and over each time he dies. There’s a subtlety to the gallows humor in Cruise’s performance, which is finely tuned to make him charismatic and sympathetic without being a Maverick-esque alpha. And there’s real chemistry between Cage and Blunt’s Rita, which is the driving force of the story. Watching Cruise fight aliens is always cool, but watching him struggle, learn, and face a never-ending tide of death and heartbreak makes it one of his best performances. [Richard Newby]

History has given a thumbs down on the theory that Tom was destined to star in 1989’s Born On The Fourth Of July because he was born on the third of July. He took on his first great acting challenge because he was ready to stretch himself, work with a tough director in Oliver Stone and tell a politically charged story that was destined to be controversial. Cruise plays real-life Vietnam War vet Ron Kovic, who would serve his country in one way during the war and serve it in an entirely different way after the war. The film required Cruise to go from gung-ho solider to bitter, wheelchair-bound veteran to long-haired anti-war activist. And it was Tom’s clean cut, American hero image that made Kovic’s descent into anguish and alcohol so devastating to watch. Although the real Kovic was initially hesitant (Al Pacino was originally cast in the role), Cruise proved himself by attending boot camp (twice), meeting with dozens of Vietnam vets and visiting VA hospitals. The result is a riveting and heartbreaking performance that earned Cruise his first Oscar nomination and put Hollywood on notice that there was no role he couldn’t play. [Mark Keizer]

Tom Cruise’s onscreen partnership with writer/director Christopher McQuarrie, which began with 2008’s Valkyrie and continued through Jack Reacher and Edge of Tomorrow, hit the next level when the two teamed up for the fifth installment of the Mission: Impossible series. The entry finds Cruise’s Ethan Hunt on the run following the disbanding of the Impossible Missions Force and fully introduces the adversaries from the ’60s series, Syndicate. The stunts are some of the best in the series, including a high-speed motorcycle chase that puts all others to shame, and an underwater cooling system sequence that begs viewers to hold their breath right along with Cruise. Returning faces and the introduction of new characters like Rebecca Ferguson’s Ilsa Faust and Sean Harris’ Solomon Lane broadened the scope of the franchise in ways that are still paying off. Even though Cruise had played the role for 19 years by the release of Rogue Nation, a longer tenure than any actor to play Bond, he still managed to bring new layers to Hunt and retain an enthusiasm that feels like the series is just getting started, rather than moving towards its endgame. [Richard Newby]

Released just five months after the cinematic sonic boom that was Top Gun, director Martin Scorsese’s gritty yet operatic pool hustler drama The Color of Money demonstrated that Cruise was more than just a freshly minted movie star: he was a top-notch actor as well. Cruise twists his glimmering charisma and all-American cockiness, turning low-level billiards savant Vincent into a brilliant protegee/foil/adversary for Paul Newman’s “Fast Eddie” Felson, a character reprised, in a then-unique move, from the 25-years-earlier film The Hustler. Cruise clearly learned a slew of lessons about navigating Hollywood from Newman, whom he befriended and revered, that he cannily employed as his own career flowered; the actor also began following a very canny path of working with genuine auteurs like Scorsese, who was near the height of his visual prowess here. The filmmaker’s kinetic sense of cinema is ideally paired with Cruise’s hyperactive take on Vincent, and he allows Cruise a convincing foray into darkness without sacrificing his appeal. Superficially seeming to riff on his early brand of cocksure hotheads, Cruise is in fact showing early stages of the emerging character actor lurking beneath his movie star surface. [Scott Huver]

This film’s reputation will likely grow over time, but out of the gate Top Gun: Maverick stands as perhaps the ne plus ultra of Cruise’s screen career, tapping into all of the various aspects that have defined him. Returning to his most popular screen role 36 years after the fact, in a matured form of his trademark masculine/vulnerable alpha male, Cruise checks every box—ultra-magnetic star power; deft execution of dramatic moments; daddy issue resonance; a charmingly self-aware cockiness; that remarkably preserved physique; unrepentant behind-the-scenes stunt daredevilry; a shrewd script assist from frequent muse Christopher McQuarrie; and that still powerfully potent root-ability. It’s through astonishingly executed star turns like these that Cruise transcends any passing missteps in his public life and the occasional box office dud to remain, all these decades later, one of the big screen’s truest and most constant superstars. Beyond that, the film is a crowd-pleasing, adrenaline-packed blast in and of itself, dropping Cruise into a cutting-edge take on dynamic aerial dogfights and surrounding him with sparring partners like Miles Teller, Jennifer Connelly, Jon Hamm and Glen Powell, who are all up to the task of holding their own opposite him. [Scott Huver]

The year is 1999 and Tom Cruise is firing on all cylinders. He’s an action star but also putting in more humanistic performances with films like Rain Man, Far and Away and Jerry Maguire. He’s worked with Scorsese (The Color of Money) and Oliver Stone (Born on the 4^th of July) and is a few years out from his kick-ass Spielberg films (Minority Report, War of the Worlds). So it was beyond huge news when Cruise and then-wife Nicole Kidman signed on to star in Stanley Kubrick’s mysterious Eyes Wide Shut. Little did Cruise (or likely, anyone) know that this film would take nearly a year-and-a-half to film, be Kubrick’s last and (many believe) help lead to the dissolution of his marriage to Kidman. But look at how much Eyes Wide Shut has grown in respect since it came out: Cruise’s portrayal of Dr. William Hartford is weird yet giving, anchored by his sheer star power. The stoic nature of the role also allows Kidman to dive into a sexy, esoteric performance, unmooring her onscreen and IRL husband with confessions of desire that shake him irreversibly out of his marital complacency. Without Cruise’s steady yet curious onscreen presence Kidman cannot be allowed to be the presence she is onscreen. Could anyone else but Tom Cruise have added the star power and acting chops shown in Eyes Wide Shut? Not likely. [Don Lewis]

In 1996 Tom Cruise was an actor capable of doing anything onscreen. This was long before his final Cruise incarnation of strictly an “action star.” While he indeed had quite a career going by this point, it wasn’t terribly rich in terms of romantic-comedy and, for good reason. Cruise’s chiseled good looks and rather straightforward demeanor make for a tough sell when it comes to rom-coms. Enter Cameron Crowe’s stellar Jerry Maguire. This outstanding film still holds up 25 years later; it remains funny, touching and, at times, thrilling. And while Cuba Gooding Jr. got the lion’s share of the publicity and an Oscar for Best Supporting Actor (followed closely by adorable newcomer Renée Zellweger), none of this works without Cruise’s all-out performance as the film’s titular character. It takes a very particular kind of actor, precisely the type that Cruise is, to introduce an intense character like Maguire yet also allow him to be fragile and empathetic. He’s at once a sports-bro but with a morality that flies in the face of that tough guy persona. He’s very handsome but that works so well that Zellweger’s heartfelt Dorothy Boyd can’t believe a dude this hot and passionate would be into her. Without Cruise, Jerry Maguire wouldn’t have had audiences at hello. [Don Lewis]

Oscar fans have a long history of holding a grudge when it comes to snubs and Tom Cruise not winning the Best Supporting Actor in 2000 from his incredible performance as Frank “T.J.” Mackey in Paul Thomas Anderson’s Magnolia is a biggie. How does one even describe this role without going as over the top as Mackey himself does in this film? It’s a masterful performance that has everything to do with Cruise’s ability to capture an audience with his looks and physicality as the severely traumatized and misogynistic Mackey. Yet the gut-wrenching trauma that drives this character doesn’t even come to the fore until about halfway through the film, when Cruise’s sad past is brought forth by a reporter who pokes all sorts of holes in Mackey’s arrogant ladies man persona. At this point the audience is laughing at, cringing at, and fairly shocked by, such a bombastic turn by Cruise. But then he kicks it up a notch with an all-time great onscreen meltdown as he confronts the father who inflicted so much pain upon him, which forged the bullshit façade of a human he now inhabits. Shortly after this film Cruise stopped doing dramatic roles. While there are probably myriad reasons why, one of them is that he wasn’t getting the respect he deserved. Case in point, his magnificent role in Magnolia. [Don Lewis]