In Hollywood movies, a single plot twist is no longer considered sufficient: the first surprise is the down payment on a more amazing revelation. Off-screen events now follow the same logic: Mel Gibson’s drunk, anti-Semitic rant simply began the widening of eyes that now gape fully with the news that Viacom-Paramount is abandoning its production deal with Tom Cruise because his recent ”unacceptable” public behaviour has amounted to ”creative suicide”.
Behind language that goes far beyond the usual talk of ”creative differences”, Summer Redstone, Viacom’s chairperson, is in effect accusing Cruise of being too much of a weirdo. Bouncing on Oprah Winfrey’s sofa (fact) to declare your love for a girlfriend who then gave birth in Scientology-demanded silence (rumour) before snacking on the placenta (gossip) after giving birth to a child who has never been seen in public (fact) while her father goes on television to denounce medical treatment for post-natal depression, seems to have convinced the studio that Cruise can no longer sell tickets to the kind of folk who just have a kid and get on with it.
But the studio’s objection is a shock because being a weirdo in Hollywood used to be like being a pot smoker at a rock festival.
Enemies of Scientology will delight in thinking that the star’s adherence to this faith lost him his spot on the lot. But his religion is only relevant to this crisis to the extent that L Ron Hubbard’s teachings shape his control-freak personality and unpopular views on comforting medication. What must worry studio bosses is that Cruise has become so associated with strangeness that moviegoers will find it hard to suspend their disbelief when he appears on screen.
A character actor can live on Tibetan yak pee and keep rats in his pocket, but the perception has always been that a leading man needs an image of regularity. The question about Cruise is whether his recent increasing eccentricity has rendered him unbelievable as a blue-collar dad in War of the Worlds or an imperturbable secret agent with the cover-life of a suburban guy in Mission Impossible III.
The studio may also have decided to stop handling Cruise after coming to the conclusion that he refuses to be handled. Gibson rapidly complied with Hollywood advice to make atonement to the Jewish community. But while anyone who had been through spindoctor kindergarten could see that Cruise needed to get snaps of his daughter Suri into the magazines as rapidly as possible, he has been unable, for practical or spiritual reasons, to comply even with this basic piece of image damage-limitation.
Another possible factor is editorial conflict. Cruise has perhaps also left Viacom-Paramount caught painfully between archers and bullseye. For any decent new satirical movie or TV programme being made now, Cruise’s oddball persona would be an obvious target. But, until this week, some jokers who would have loved to take aim had to worry about Cruise being on the same payroll.
There is some evidence that this tension was becoming an issue. An edition of the Viacom-owned South Park that lampooned Cruise’s sexuality was withdrawn from repeats. Cruise denies demanding this, but is it possible that the company acted from fear of his disapproval? One effect of stopping him shooting for Paramount is to free him as a target.
Rumours that Cruise was concerned by Katie Holmes’s dirt-talking, hard-shagging role in the comedy Thank You For Smoking (filmed before their relationship) also raised the fear that a director employing Holmes in another Paramount flick might feel constrained in what she could be asked to do.
Whatever the causes of the split, the result is a significant shift in the balance of power between studios and stars. The message has been sent that actors should be as straight and well-behaved as possible. The drawback is that performers will be encouraged to lie about their lifestyle and beliefs. As they do, they may reflect on the irony that some sneerers claimed Cruise had only produced Suri — now seen to have begun his downfall — to emphasise his normality. — Â