Cinema de Gym: 'Minority Report'
Friday, August 19, 2011 at 4:21PM 
Kurt here. (Surely many of you recall that Michael C. just recently offered an Unsung Heroes post on the Minority Report think tank, so allow me to pre-arrest myself and apologize in advance for the déjà vu.) Minority Report turned out to be a perfect movie to watch in my gym's cardio theater, each of us exercisers piloting our own personal machines like hovercraft-riding Spielbergian cops. Like most, I adore this film in all its blue-filtered beauty, and I'm happy to report that I was lucky enough to walk in for one of my favorite scenes: Tom Cruise's eye transplant surgery.
Surely the dirtiest segment of this very sterile sci-fi noir, the scene, which sees Peter Stormare's ex-con play doctor with Cruise's fugitive, John Anderton, is squirmingly tactile and visceral, greatly conveying the nightmarish ickiness of its atmosphere. Within the apartment unit, a setting of uglified modernity most evocative of Ridley Scott, the great Stormare enhances the dread tenfold with his mad-scientist line readings, which reveal that he was once arrested by John...for burning his patients. With that stirring revelation, we're invited to sit back and relax in the operating chair, seeing Stormare and his nurse – if I remember correctly – through John's eyes, which, y'know, are about to leave their sockets.
When John awakes, the nightmare continues, as the good doctor has playfully misled him as a means of mild, yet nonetheless grotesque, revenge. Blindfolded, and forbidden to remove his bandages lest he actually go blind, John has a string tied to each arm to lead him to the kitchen and bathroom, which – again, if memory serves – have been intentionally mixed-up. The new scene conjures a sort of schoolyard-bully terror, never greater than when John finally heads for the refrigerator. Reaching for the sandwich and milk his caretakers promised him, John instead grabs a brick of mold-covered grossness, and after spatting it out, attempts to wash out the taste with a big swig of green god-knows-what. Gaaahhh, I can feel the shivers now. It's such a repulsive moment, for which, of course, I tip my hat to Mr. Spielberg.
Minority Report supports one of my favorite Tom Cruise talking points, a theme that can be traced through much of his '00s filmography. To help boost John's post-op anonymity, Stormare's doc gives him an emergencies-only, taser-like device that, if zapped under the chin, will turn his face into an unrecognizable glob of Quasimodo skin-putty. If it hadn't been already, vanity was surely the Tom Cruise motif of the new millenium. Everything from the Mission: Impossible franchise to Valkyrie involved some degree of covering up or disfiguring Cruise's million-dollar mug, as if to say there was no greater sin or provocation in mainstream movies. Certainly, Cruise used it as a way to both be self-indulgent and shallowly work against his icon status, superficially striving for character-actordom by obstructing – or, god forbid, destructing – his pretty face. Minority Report came on the heels of Vanilla Sky, wherein this theory is surely most apparent, with Cruise Vanity essentially serving as its own subplot. What does it all mean? Ultimately, I prefer to think of it as eerie foreshadowing, an inundation of Cruise defacement amidst a career climax, after which his face would never be the same.
Conclusions?
1. Though not exactly one for always putting a distinct stamp on his work, Spielberg sure can draw you into the moment.
2. Though not exactly one for pushing the boundaries of foulness, Spielberg sure can gross you out good.
3. Though often reduced to a negative Russian stereotype, Stormare can bring a whole lot with very little.
4. Though his need to remind us did indeed grow tiresome, Cruise does have one killer face to deface.
If the '00s marked the era of Cruise vanity, which Cruise era are we in now?
Reader Comments (5)
Cruise needs to stop with the knight and days and stretch himself,he is so intent on regaining his 80's & 90's box office power that any thoughts of a good movie or a good performance or work that lasts has been thrown away.
The 1-2-3 punch of A.I.-Minority Report-Catch Me If You Can (the 'running man' series, as he calls them) is probably my favourite thread of Spielberg films to come out so close to each other. I enjoyed each far too much as they're ridiculous entertaining, filled to the brim with some amazing performances, and visually, some of the very best work he's ever done. Aesthetically, they're absolute perfection.
Minority Report remains a bit of an addiction for me, though. I NEED to watch it all when I catch it on tv or something. Samantha Morton alone! I remember when it debuted on HBO a year after the release and played constantly -- I devoured it every time.
Agreed on Stormare. Must see: scene opposite Tilda at end of Constantine.
This scene is a typical illustration of my biggest gripe with the Spielberg canon: his compulsion to take the gross-out and/or yuk-yuk elements a sophomoric beat or two too far. I'm completely with this film until the part in this scene where Spielberg winks at us by revealing a fresh sandwich and glass of milk right next to the rotten mess. Completely dispels the enchantment for me every time.
I'm not saying he should be as dry as Kubrick. I just wish he (or his editors) would use just a little more restraint.
And this often gross (and always spectacular) film was Spielberg's most critically acclaimed hit since SAVING PRIVATE RYAN. That can only be a coincidence! ;)
I'd say this decade we're entering the Tom Cruise obscurity era. This may or may not be followed by the Tom Cruise redemption tour. His career is kind of reminding me of Harrison Ford's right now (if Ford were a Scientologist). I mean, think of Ford's career from What Lies Beneath to Cowboys and Aliens. Tom Cruise seems to be in an analogous period.