I saw it on the MSM in the wee hours this morning, but Captain Ed covered it better.
Paramount Pictures, home of Steven Spielberg, has told Tom Cruise that his bizarre behavior over the past year has cost them too much in box office revenues, and they're ending their professional relationship with him. The contract ends.
Most people, when they mention Cruise's glide downhill into embarrassing twerpdom, touch on the not-so-creepy-but-still-annoying Oprah couch-dance incident, and then follow through with the moderately creepy sanctimonious Scientologist thing, where he faults Brooke Shields for taking antidepressants to combat post-partum depression and then attempts to defend his views to "Matt-Matt-Matt-Matt" Matt Lauer on "Today". They forget the truly excessively creepy things involving Katie Holmes and the pregnancy, where he bought his own home ultrasound machine so he could "watch his baby every day". ecch. And then there was the "joke" about eating the baby's placenta. If it was a joke, it wasn't funny, and if it wasn't a joke, the man desperately needs a non-Scientologist shrink.
Come to think of it, he needs one either way.
I guess I must have been the only girl on the planet who looked at him in "Taps" and was turned off, and his image wasn't improved, for me, by "Risky Business". My friends told me the dance scene was "unbelievably sexy", but all I got out of it was "unbelievably silly". It's been a steady, straight (flat)line for me.
Paramount is moving up in my estimation.
But I'm still going to wait and see how they handle the next "Star Trek" flick.
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