The tiredness needs to show

Tom Cruise is underwhelming in Dead Reckoning, and much like Hugh Jackman's wolverine in Logan, it is time he accepted weariness

I saw Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning last Sunday. The movie brings in the usual mix of action sequences, high-speed chases, changing allegiances, and an ever-expanding universe of side-characters one has come to expect from the MI series. One has, of course, also come to expect a certain minimum number of death-defying stunts by Tom Cruise. At least one momentary but bright flare from the supporting characters is also a staple on the menu — last time it was Henry Cavill, this time Hayley Atwell does the job. It all plays out as prescribed, tried, tested and expected to be a box-office hit, time and again.

I wasn’t impressed. Nor was I particularly disappointed. And that got me thinking. Franchises such as Fast and Furious, Mission Impossible, James Bond or any of the dime-a-dozen superhero movies, have for the longest time banked on their prowess for mounting a spectacle, as the biggest gun in their arsenal. Story depth, character intricacies and the sheer texture of sub-plots, no matter how the audience swears by them, are ultimately the lettuce to your dressing of stunts, jumps and somersault.

One cannot lightly brush away how essential “spectacle” is to the very idea of cinema, nay motion pictures. From Georges Méliès, French illusionist-turned-director and pioneer of special effects on film, to the famous umbrella scene from Raj Kapoor’s Shree 420 to the “virtual filmmaking” in the latest Star Wars offerings, filmmakers are in a constant quest to create something spectacular. In fact, “spectacle” is what makes the footage of the second plane crashing into the South Tower, on September 11, 2001, so visually compelling. It is why Delhi-based broadcast journalists recorded their segments, standing in waist-deep waters during the flood-like situation last week. The idea of “spectacle” has become quite ingrained in our daily consumption of visual media.

And, therefore, it was disturbing to observe that I did not find MI7 spectacular. This was despite all the stunts, as well as the ongoing narrative that heightens the thrill of these stunts: That Cruise performs most if not all of them on his own. “Am I desensitised,” was the first question.

Perhaps. For daily consumers of VFX-driven action, the possibility would not be too outlandish. Thanks to life-like mimicry of intricate camera movements, we have felt ourselves hurtling towards the ground with diving airplanes, leapt across buildings along with the hero on the screen, felt the grains of sand shift beneath our feet in vast desert expanses, and felt breathless trying to reach an airlock in the on-screen space station. The IMAX format — an intricate system of high-resolution cameras, surround-sound audio, film formats, film projectors, and film theatres — has made cinematic spectacle truly immersive. 

But then, why the sudden apathy? Did I not pay extra because I wanted to feel Ethan Hunt screech to a halt at the very edge of a cliff, on his dirt bike? Are we facing the age-old adage that narrative is king? Are the shallow and repetitive plot lines finally taking away from the thrill of the big-screen spectacle?

After much thought, I have zeroed in on a very counterintuitive reason: Tom Cruise. Not the actor, but the body, the corporeality. The repeated silting of film genres, visual tropes and action sequence, ensconces the actor’s body with a set of meanings and narratives that bestow upon them a subtextual character — a constant presence across all characters that he may play in several films. This archetype is what we correlate with both Ethan Hunt and Maverick from Top Gun. No matter how badly received the individual film was, this is also the character archetype for Roy Miller from Knight and Day.

This is what we believe Tom Cruise brings to any character. And for me, this corporeality of Cruise is finally falling apart. His face looks puffy. His action choreography appears tried, tested but also tired and repetitive. His death-defying stunts — once gasp- and whoop-inducing — makes me wince in pain and anticipation. Thus, the very idea of Cruise’s diminutive human body defying all laws of god and man has reached its sell-by date.

And yes, the oversaturation of similar VFX-driven action sequences on screen is a major factor. I had a similar reaction to Keanu Reeves’ John Wick 4, or Jackie Chan’s latest movie trailers. I also am not looking forward to Hugh Jackman’s return as Wolverine. The reason why Logan was such a successful ending to the Wolverine saga, is the film’s acceptance of an eventual tiredness that besets the character’s superheroic masculinity. Indeed, the reason I had whistled at the on-screen Bharat-milap of Salman and Shah Rukh in Pathan was not the reunion itself; rather the scene’s refreshing acceptance of their age, their tiring bodies. The “time-out” that Pathan takes, the banter about painkillers, the lurching and limping, and finally the ultimate surrender to their fates of having to continue doing this, “because there is no one else”. 

It is time for Cruise to show a similar acceptance.