What with all the fake baby stuff, Scientology weirdness, leaping from jets into sportscars onto fire engines roaring down New York streets paved with testosterone in order to rescue busfuls of burning nuns and orphans, I'd forgotten Tom Cruise had an actual movie coming out. (Does he look like a middle-aged lesbian in that picture? I'm not saying he does, I'm just saying...)
Stephanie Zacharek says in her review: "Cruise squints, blinks and bucks. The scene is all about suffering --
his, not hers -- and later, as he clutches the corpse of a fallen agent
to his manly pectorals, the camera lingers on the held-back tears in
his eyes. Cruise is so busy squeezing out his hard little nuggets of
feeling that he's incapable of letting anything in. Signal sent!
Objective achieved! If there are other actors in the scene, Cruise
hasn't noticed them. No one's going to sink his battleship."