Tom Cruise’s career renaissance and Scientology background, explained - Vox.com

Tom Cruise has spent this year flying high, literally.

At CinemaCon in April, when Mission: Impossible 7 screened its first trailer for theater owners, Cruise sent along a video intro that he'd filmed while standing on top of a biplane flying over a canyon in South Africa. It ended with him launching into a barrel roll. When he arrived at the premiere of Top Gun: Maverick in San Diego in May, he flew there in a helicopter he piloted himself, emblazoned with his own name and the title of his film.

He's also flying high on a metaphorical level. Cruise turned 60 on July 3, and he shows no signs of slowing down. Top Gun: Maverick has made over $1 billion since it came out in May, the first film of Cruise's career to do so and just the second film to manage the feat since the pandemic began in 2020. (The first was Spider-Man: No Way Home.)

In the pandemic era, a lot of movies are making only the most cursory appearance in theaters before they hit streaming, if they make it to theaters at all. Not Tom Cruise movies. The idea of Top Gun: Maverick premiering on streaming instead of in theaters? "Never going to happen," Cruise said at Cannes in May, even though the completed film languished for two years before seeing the light of day. When Paramount told Cruise that Mission: Impossible 7 would play in theaters for only 45 days instead of the three months Cruise was used to, Cruise hired a lawyer.

For his efforts, Cruise is being hailed as the savior of the cinematic experience.

"Can Tom Cruise save the old-fashioned blockbuster?" asked the Telegraph.

Empire magazine described Cruise's fight as "the battle to save cinema," with "the biggest movie star in the world" at the vanguard.

"Cruise is here to remind us that the industry will not die on his watch. Not if he can help it," said the LA Times. "And honestly, who among us won't be thrilled if Cruise triumphs in life as in the movies?"

Tom Cruise as Ethan Hunt in a scene from the 1996 film Mission: Impossible.

Murray Close/Getty Images

It seems clear that Cruise sincerely sees himself as the savior of the big screen, and all the jobs that depend on it. (Or at the very least, he sees himself as the savior of Tom Cruise movies appearing on the big screen.) During the pandemic, he told audiences at Cannes, he called up theater owners to say, "Please, I know what you're going through. Just know we are making Mission: Impossible, and Top Gun is coming out." In December 2020, leaked audio footage from the set of Mission: Impossible 7 showed Cruise upbraiding crew members who violated Covid social distancing policies.

"They're back there in Hollywood making movies right now because of us," Cruise can be heard to shout on the footage. "Because they believe in us and what we're doing. I'm on the phone with every fucking studio at night, insurance companies, producers, and they're looking at us and using us to make their movies. We are creating thousands of jobs, you motherfuckers."

"That's what I sleep with every night," Cruise concluded: "the future of this fucking industry!"

By now we should know: Tom Cruise is the hero of a movie that never ends. It's one where he always, always saves the day.

That wasn't always the case. Cruise's stock plummeted in the 2000s after Oprah's couch and Brooke Shields' antidepressants. Yet today, Cruise is once again considered a bankable and iconic star. He is no longer a publicity liability for a movie studio.

There's only one thing that Cruise might not be able to save. That's the nagging, persistent sense that if the movie were ever to stop, when the lights came up, there would be nothing left of Tom Cruise at all.

"Cruise's own laugh," concluded Alex Pappademas in the New Yorker this May, "is the best Tom Cruise impression you've ever heard."

But who says the movie ever has to stop?

Tom Cruise escorts Catherine, Duchess of Cambridge, up the stairs at the Royal Film Performance of Top Gun: Maverick in London on May 19.

Dan Kitwood/Getty Images

Tom Cruise saves chivalry

"I like treating a woman the way that she deserves to be treated." Tom Cruise to Oprah Winfrey, 2005.

Here's an oddity in the latest spree of killer Tom Cruise publicity: For once, the press is really into the way he's interacting with women.

Over the course of his Top Gun press tour, Tom Cruise has been handed one positive headline after another for his chivalrous habit of taking charge of all ladies present, from Kate Middleton to his co-stars. If there is a woman in the same space as he is, Cruise will escort her up and down stairs and through doorways, present her to the camera, and make sure she is taken care of. It makes for incredible press. In her coverage of Cannes, gossip maven Elaine Lui remarked on how carefully Cruise looked after Top Gun co-star Jennifer Connelly. "I'm told he was never not attentive," Lui wrote, "always focused on making sure she was looked after, never not ready with a hand to guide her from one place to another, never missing an opportunity to talk about how spectacular she looked, seemingly enthralled by her so that the cameras would pick up on his eyeline and transfer their focus to her."

This display of "chivalry," Lui concluded, was "very Tom Cruise."

Jennifer Connelly and Tom Cruise at a cast photo call for Top Gun: Maverick during the Cannes film festival on May 18, 2022.

Tim P. Whitby/Getty Images for Paramount Pictures

Chivalry is part of the old-fashioned action-hero masculinity Tom Cruise has long represented: the hero with the square jaw and faultless manners, kind and attentive to everyone around him. It's also been central to Tom Cruise's personal mythology for a long time, in both good ways and bad.

On the good side, Cruise used to be in the press on a regular basis for rescuing regular people: saving a family from a burning sailboat; getting the victim of a hit-and-run to the hospital and then paying her medical bills. Every actor who's ever worked with him seems to have a Tom Cruise story about him making them some impossibly thoughtful gesture or gift.

On the bad side, quoth Elaine Lui, "Remember how he used to 'present' Katie Holmes?"

Katie Holmes and husband Tom Cruise during a 2007 gala honoring Cruise, at Twentieth Century Fox Studios in Los Angeles.

Jon Kopaloff/FilmMagic

Cruise's 2005 marriage to Katie Holmes was marked by its public displays of affection. Cruise was constantly presenting Holmes to the camera, cuddling up to her in public, proclaiming his love for her in ever more enthusiastic ways. Even before he jumped up and down on Oprah's couch and sent his career into a precipitous downslide, he told Oprah that he covered a hotel room in rose petals for Holmes, and that he took her on a motorcycle ride on the beach.

"I'm a romantic, okay?" Cruise said at the time. "I like treating a woman the way that she deserves to be treated."

Romantic or not, that marriage also represented a low point in Cruise's professional life. In the wake of his couch moment with Oprah, Cruise's popularity plummeted, his reputation took a hit, and he almost lost the Mission: Impossible franchise.

Then came the enormous and damaging wave of publicity in 2012, when Katie Holmes divorced Cruise. Stories rolled out by the day: that Holmes had planned the divorce for two years in order to make sure she would retain custody of the couple's daughter, Suri; that she had to orchestrate the whole thing with burner phones and secret laptops and lawyers in multiple states; that she had done it all — developed this whole two-year master plan — because that was how badly she wanted full custody of Suri. Specifically, the story went, Holmes wanted to save Suri from Scientology.

Cruise has since worked diligently to move past the so-called TomKat years. He's been so effective that all his gentlemanly gestures on his current press tour tend to read as charming, not creepy. But there's a clear and strong connection between Cruise's love of chivalry then and his love of chivalry now. They are part and parcel of what appears to be a driving force behind Tom Cruise's quest to be a hero, win the girl, and save the world: Scientology.

Left: Cruise on the set of Top Gun in 1985. Right: Cruise speaking at the inauguration of the Church of Scientology in Madrid in 2004.

Left: Paramount Pictures/Sunset Boulevard/Corbis via Getty Images. Right: Pierre-Philippe Marcou/AFP via Getty Images.

Tom Cruise saves mankind (from thetans)

"That's what drives me: is that I know we have an opportunity to really help, for the first time, effectively change people's lives. And I am dedicated to that. I am absolutely, uncompromisingly dedicated to that." Tom Cruise, Scientology recruitment video, 2004.

The controversial Church of Scientology, founded by the science fiction writer L. Ron Hubbard in 1953, appeals to the sort of worldview Cruise embodies. The world is under attack from evil forces, Scientology teaches, and all that stops them is one good man who's not going to let petty rules get in his way.

Scientology is also, despite the number of celebrities it boasts among its ranks, a publicity liability. It's widely suspected of being a pyramid scheme at best and at worse alleged to be an abusive cult profiting from forced labor and human trafficking, according to lawsuits and reports from former members. Its central cosmology, which teaches that human beings are plagued by immortal alien souls called thetans brought to Earth by the galactic emperor Xenu billions of years ago, is ripe for mockery.

The reporting that exists on Cruise's connection to the church is both lengthy and damning. In September 2012, Vanity Fair published an exposé by Maureen Orth on the way Cruise outsourced management of his romantic life to the church. Tony Ortega, the closest thing there is to a beat reporter on Scientology, has a dedicated Tom Cruise tab on his website. In 2013, celebrated New Yorker reporter Lawrence Wright expanded his existing Scientology reporting into the book Going Clear, which prominently delved into Cruise's status in the church. In 2015, Going Clear was adapted into an Emmy-winning HBO documentary by the director Alex Gibney, again featuring plenty of Cruise stories. The story they told is dramatic, and it plays heavily on Cruise's apparent understanding of himself as a savior figure. (The Church of Scientology has strongly denied all these accounts, describing them as lies from disgruntled former members and journalists with grudges.)

Cruise joined the Church of Scientology during his first marriage to Scientologist Mimi Rogers, after Top Gun had already made him a star. According to now-defected former church officials, allegedly he began to drift away from active practice during the '90s and his marriage to Nicole Kidman, only to drift back as that marriage foundered in the late '90s. The clincher came, those former Scientologists say in Going Clear, when Cruise said he wanted to tap Kidman's phone, and the Church of Scientology obliged.

Nicole Kidman and Tom Cruise attend a 1991 awards ceremony for the American Film Institute in Beverly Hills, California.

Ron Galella Collection via Getty Images

Keeping Cruise happy apparently became a priority for the Church of Scientology. When Cruise needed a new love interest, the church reportedly recruited a young member for the job, gave her a makeover to Cruise's specifications, and then broke up with her for him after he tired of her. When the woman told a friend what had happened to her, the church reportedly sentenced her to months of menial labor in punishment.

Around the same time that Cruise was making his grand return to the church, he fired his longtime Hollywood publicist, allegedly because she told him to stop talking about Scientology so much when he was on the publicity trail for The Last Samurai. He brought on his Scientologist sister to manage his image instead.

As Cruise was becoming more and more committed to the church, the tabloid industry was beginning to go rabid. By 2004, Us Weekly had gone from monthly trade magazine to weekly gossip rag, pitting itself against People magazine. In Touch Weekly, Life & Style Weekly, and OK! had all emerged. These magazines thrived on an endless diet of outrageous celebrity soundbites, and as Tom Cruise made the publicity rounds for The War of the Worlds, he kept offering them up, one after another.

"Some people, well, if they don't like Scientology, well, then, fuck you," he told Rolling Stone. "Really. Fuck you. Period."

Citing Scientology's distrust of psychiatry, Cruise criticized Brooke Shields for taking antidepressants to treat her postpartum depression, and then told Matt Lauer he was being "glib" when Lauer suggested he might have overstepped his bounds.

Cruise's public behavior became more and more erratic. On the same War of the Worlds publicity tour, Cruise infamously jumped up and down on Oprah's couch, enthusiastically declaring his love for Katie Holmes.

Holmes seemed to be getting caught up in the Scientology swirl herself. A W magazine profile of Holmes saw her conduct an interview with a "Scientology chaperone," who prompted Holmes with phrases about how much she adored Cruise when she seemed to fumble for words.

The spree of outré quotes took their toll. In 2006, one report found that between the spring and summer of 2005, Cruise fell from 11th most-liked celebrity in the US to 197th.

Fox News predicted the end of Cruise's career. "It will be all but impossible now for a new generation of film fans to see past his erratic public behavior, the Oprah couch shenanigans, the decrying of psychiatry and now the rejection of Catholicism for a religion invented by a science-fiction writer," they opined.

Cruise, seeing the writing on the wall, veered away from talking about his religion during his movie publicity tours. But for the next 10 years, Scientology would continue to haunt his public image.

In 2008, a video leaked to the press that was reportedly a Scientology conversion effort, filmed in 2004. It featured Cruise glassy-eyed and grinning in a black turtleneck, talking about all the ways Scientology has changed his life. "Being a Scientologist, when you drive past an accident, it's not like anybody else," he explains. "You know you have to do something about it."

"Let me put it this way," said Gawker, which broke the news of the video: "if Tom Cruise jumping on Oprah's couch was an 8 on the scale of scary, this is a 10."

In 2012, the Cruise-Holmes divorce cracked open the door of Tom Cruise Scientology stories. A host more came pouring out — and not just in the tabloids, but in legacy print magazines and prestige cable shows: Vanity Fair, the New Yorker, the Village Voice, HBO.

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