The New Biographical Dictionary of Film: Completely Updated and Expanded (94 page)

Cameron Crowe
, b. Palm Springs, California, 1957
1989:
Say Anything
. 1992:
Singles
. 1996:
Jerry Maguire
. 2000:
Almost Famous
. 2001:
Vanilla Sky
. 2005:
Elizabethtown
.

Cameron Crowe was writing for
Rolling Stone
as a child—well, technically, a young teenager—and he jumped over into movies when his novel
Fast Times at Ridgemont High
(82, Amy Heckerling) was made into a hit movie, with Crowe doing the screenplay. He then wrote and coproduced a flat follow-up,
The Wild Life
(84, Art Linson)—but maybe the fault there was Linson’s. A few years later, Crowe was back on form writing and directing
Say Anything
, which had a lovely John Cusack and the intriguing theme of charm meeting brains.
Singles
was fine, but not as deep, and no preparation for
Jerry Maguire
—a fanciful story about being a top sports agent and being happy, so cunning a bit of humor, romance, and whimsy that it grabbed all of America and gave Tom Cruise an unmissable role.
Almost Famous
was his own start at
Rolling Stone
, and a lot of fun, yet maybe sanitized enough for Mom.

It’s not quite clear where Crowe will go now. He is full of promise, but is he really in the Billy Wilder class? No matter the 1999 publication of his fond yet rather superficial book
Conversations with Billy Wilder. Vanilla Sky
should pass as an aberration, or as a debt of friendship to Tom Cruise. That horribly farfetched fabrication does not seem like Crowe’s kind of venture.

Russell
(Ira)
Crowe
, b. Wellington, New Zealand, 1964
In the late nineties, the thought stirred that perhaps a great new actor had come to the movies who was not French, Italian, American, or British. These are early days for Russell Crowe, but it really isn’t outrageous to say that so far, he’s delivered no less than three performances that surpass his Oscar-winning
Gladiator
(00, Ridley Scott). Not that I mean to minimize the skill, the determination, and the smarts that could play a Roman of honor at a time when that model is scorned, or who could insist on presence in a film so full of special effects.

Still, there’s even more to be said for his brutish but brutalized cop, the working-class Bud, in
L.A. Confidential
(97, Curtis Hanson); for his bulky, insecure whistle-blower in
The Insider
(99, Michael Mann); and for the troubled genius in
A Beautiful Mind
(01, Ron Howard).

Just as remarkable as those four roles in four years is the way in which, until a moment before his breakthrough, Crowe was treated like a rugged action hero, another Mel Gibson (though without the cheek or charm). Today, his advantages in any comparison with Gibson are painfully apparent. The question arises as to whether there are things he can’t do.

He was raised in Australia and he was acting on TV as a child. Later he worked in theatre and film, but then came to America with a run of little-known pictures:
The Crossing
(90, George Ogilvie); as a POW in
Prisoners of the Sun
(91, Stephen Wallace);
The Efficiency Expert
(92, Mark Joffe);
Proof
(92, Jocelyn Moorhouse); winning awards as the skinhead thug in
Romper Stomper
(92, Geoffrey Wright);
Hammers Over the Anvil
(93, Ann Turner);
Love in Limbo
(93, David Elfick);
The Silver Stallion
(93, John Tatoulis);
For the Moment
(94, Aaron Kim Johnston); as the gay son in
The Sum of Us
(94, Kevin Dowling).

Settling in America, he did
The Quick and the Dead
(95, Sam Raimi);
Virtuosity
(95, Brett Leonard);
Rough Magic
(95, Clare Peploe);
No Way Back
(97, Frank A. Cappello);
Breaking Up
(97, Robert Greenwald);
Heaven’s Burning
(97, Craig Lahiff);
Mystery, Alaska
(99, Jay Roach).

He also made
Proof of Life
(00, Taylor Hackford), where his man of honor turned subtly into a romantic figure. The effect this had on costar Meg Ryan was one more sign that Russell Crowe is a serious proposition.
A Beautiful Mind
was further evidence that Crowe was established as an actor of nearly infinite reach. Equally, it raised doubts as to where his creative character could settle. Or would he have to be different with every film?

He starred in
Master and Commander: The Far Side of the World
(03, Peter Weir), and he played the boxer Jim Braddock in
Cinderella Man
(04, Howard). He was back with Ridley Scott for
A Good Year
(06), before doing the Glenn Ford part in
3:10 to Yuma
(07, James Mangold) and the scruffy detective in
American Gangster
(07, Scott). Was it shabbiness or laziness, or was he downsizing?:
Tenderness
(08, John Polson);
Body of Lies
(08, Scott);
State of Play
(09, Kevin Macdonald);
Robin Hood
(10, Scott).

Billy Crudup
, b. Manhasset, New York, 1968
Did Billy Crudup go for doing
The Elephant Man
onstage to escape all the talk about how good-looking he is? Put it another way, how long before we pick up on what a very promising actor he is—a natural figure of youth, hope, and energy, yet smart enough to suggest so much more? He made his debut in
Sleepers
(96, Barry Levinson), and he had a small part in
Everyone Says I Love You
(96, Woody Allen). But he began to develop with
Inventing the Abbotts
(97, Pat O’Connor);
Grind
(97, Chris Kentis);
Snitch
(98, Ted Demme) and
Without Limits
(98, Robert Towne), where he was so appealing as Steve Prefontaine, and so impressive a runner, we really wanted him to win.

He had another lead role in
The Hi-Lo Country
(98, Stephen Frears); as the Denis Johnson druggie in
Jesus’ Son
(98, Alison Maclean); excellent in
Waking the Dead
(00, Keith Gordon); very touching in
Almost Famous
(00, Cameron Crowe);
World Traveler
(01, Bart Freundlich); and credibly French in
Charlotte Gray
(01, Gillian Armstrong);
Big Fish
(03, Burton); and as a leading actress of the 1660s in
Stage Beauty
(04, Richard Eyre).

His choices are very personal, and unpredictable:
Trust the Man
(05, Freundlich);
Mission: Impossible III
(06, J. J. Abrams); very good and Philbyesque in
The Good Shepherd
(06, Robert DeNiro);
Dedication
(07, Justin Therrux);
Pretty Bird
(08, Paul Schneider);
Watching
(09, Zack Snyder); as J. Edgar Hoover in
Public Enemies
(09, Michael Mann).

Tom Cruise
(Thomas Cruise Mapother IV), b. Syracuse, New York, 1962
There are those who like to jump on Tom Cruise as the representative of all that is most immature in America cinema today. They see the cockiness, the grin, the huge boxoffice success, and the sudden lapses. In that spirit, Cruise is the worst of the brats because he has gone the farthest.

But consider: when Clark Gable was thirty (in 1931), he had only just begun to make movies like
A Free Soul, Possessed
, and
Susan Lenox: Her Fall and Rise
. Now, in our collective recollection, Gable may seem older, worldlier, and more grownup than Cruise was at thirty. But when did Gable ever risk playing the jerk to whom Cruise was totally committed in
The Color of Money
(86, Martin Scorsese)? When was Gable as uninhibitedly tender as Cruise managed in
Risky Business
(83, Paul Brickman)? And could Gable have survived the black-hole narcissism of Dustin Hoffman in
Rain Man
(88, Barry Levinson) and let us know we were watching a more complex and worthwhile character at the edges of the story, while Oscar was being won?

Cruise is very good. Consider that pack of novices in Francis Coppola’s
The Outsiders
(83). Cruise was not much noticed then among Matt Dillon, Rob Lowe, Emilio Estevez, Patrick Swayze, Ralph Macchio, and C. Thomas Howell (this team is a great tribute to the foresight of Coppola and his casting wizard, Fred Roos). But he has gone on to so much richer and more coherent a career and so little wish to impose himself or his attitude upon his pictures. Cruise is one of the first young actors who seems unaffected by the impact of Brando or Clift, and much more inspired by the example of a Gable or a Grant. He wants to work.

Not that his early life was free from the bases for neuroses or unease. Cruise came from a broken home. His life was nomadic. He had a form of dyslexia. He had a very poor early relationship with his father. But a wrestling injury at school urged him into musicals, and after school he had a few roaming years, trying to learn, trying to stay alive. Very few.

He had a small role in
Endless Love
(81, Franco Zeffirelli) and he made a big impression as the belligerent cadet in
Taps
(81, Harold Becker).
Losin’ It
(83, Curtis Hanson) was a disaster lost in the dazzle of
The Outsiders, Risky Business
, and
All the Right Moves
(83, Michael Chapman).

Since then, his career has taken some odd or mistaken directions, increasingly because he is so bankable—big stars can fall into the worst hands:
Legend
(85, Ridley Scott);
Top Gun
(86, Tony Scott), the picture that made him, and a piece of high-tech jingoism so remarkably depressing it is all the more admirable that he survived.
Cocktail
(88, Roger Donaldson) was the silliest vehicle, and
Days of Thunder
(90, Tony Scott) was all vehicles and crash helmets, apart from introducing him to his second wife, Nicole Kidman (he was previously married to Mimi Rogers). He and Kidman were teamed in
Far and Away
(92, Ron Howard), without much joy or chemistry.

Born on the Fourth of July
(89, Oliver Stone) was a key step in the decline of its director, but Cruise was unrestrained and passionate as the hero. If Cruise had not yet been in an unmistakably good film, he had shown a range as an actor, and a willingness, that are impressive. By the time he was forty, Gable had done
Red Dust, It Happened One Night, Mutiny on the Bounty, China Seas, San Francisco, Idiot’s Delight
, and Rhett Butler. Of course, careers do not know such ease now. Cruise is going to have to remake himself at every turn—and there may not be enough good people to trust. He is very professional—but is there now a profession? Thus he made himself the motor of
A Few Good Men
(92, Rob Reiner), and mounted a real challenge to Jack Nicholson in the climax. Similarly, he carried the long, complicated
The Firm
(93, Sidney Pollack) and let us see how his quick eyes were working out the story.

Following Cruise has not been easy going the last few years.
Interview with the Vampire
(94, Neil Jordan) was plainly a brave departure—and one that surely added to the legends about his sexual orientation. But it was a bad film, and he was hardly comfortable in it. Next he secured his treasury with those two horrible wastes of time, expertise and writing talent:
Mission: Impossible
(96, Brian De Palma) and
Mission: Impossible II
(00, John Woo).

Then there is
Eyes Wide Shut
(99, Stanley Kubrick) and the whole business of Tom and Nicole. That film, and its prolonged mission to England, were heavy commitments for the couple—and who knows how far their marriage and their psychic welfare were caught up in the picture? So again, the boldness was admirable—and the film was lousy. Worse than that, Cruise seemed more ill at ease and had less fruitful screen time than Kidman. So the marriage ended.

On the other hand, there was
Jerry Maguire
(96, Cameron Crowe)—not profound, but decent, touching and very entertaining, and probably a model for what Cruise wants to be. There was also
Magnolia
(99, Paul Thomas Anderson), his most searching and self-critical performance. So, after bad years, I remain hopeful, even if all the
Impossible
s put a greater load on things that might be. Still,
Vanilla Sky
(01, Crowe) was a large burden of absurdity to lay on fans and followers. It may have tweaked naive earnestness—but forty is too late for that.

He worked hard in
Minority Report
(02, Steven Spielberg), and gave it a new toughness, but then the film let him down.
The Last Samurai
(03, Edward Zwick) was a large enterprise, and Cruise did a real acting job, but the film seemed unnecessary. Yes, there was a third
Mission: Impossible
(05, J. J. Abrams). But who cares? Cruise may be slipping from his own level
—Collateral
(04, Michael Mann) did not bring him back though its streamlined efficiency came close to moral ambivalence. He was a very energetic hero in
War of the Worlds
(05, Steven Spielberg), with a palpable paternal urge.
Lions for Lambs
(07, Robert Redford) was painful. He was amusing in
Tropic Thunder
(08, Ben Stiller); and then came
Valkyrie
(08, Bryan Singer), an attempt at history that had no more atmosphere than the
Mission
films.

Penélope Cruz
, b. Madrid, Spain, 1974
Your correspondent has spent about eleven minutes side by side with Penélope Cruz chatting in a bookstore in Telluride, Colorado, on matters like carpentry, and I have to tell you that she can be absolutely matter-of-fact about her own astonishing beauty (and my lack thereof). This was also one of the few public occasions for which the sheer miraculousness of her looks, and the modesty attached to them, did not immediately win some kind of acting award. A lot of the time, if she peeks out at the weather she gets a Tempesta, a Giotto, or a Giorgione just for breathing. What can the spectator say? Except that, if you remember
That Obscure Object of Desire
, she is somehow Ángela Molina and Carole Bouquet rolled—rolled is not the best word—into one.