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 1 of 5

Collateral Our rating: Your rating: 1 2 3 4 Your Comments: see all MPAA rating: R (for violence and language) Theater release: August 06, 2004 by Dreamworks SKG Directed by: Michael Mann Runtime: 1 hour 56 minutes Cast: Tom Cruise (Vincent), Jamie Foxx (Max), Jada Pinkett Smith (Annie), Mark Ruffalo (Detective Fanning), Peter Berg (Richard) Related: Talk About It/Family Corner

Why do big screen killers seem so glamorous? It's not the filmmaker's fault, necessarily. We're flawed and foolish people, drawn to power, to independence, to the illusion that we can be gods unto ourselves and keep our hands, hair, suits, and consciences clean.

The villain in Collateral is as devilish a man as we've seen onscreen in a while. He's almost irresistible, always ready with a rationalization, and quick to turn against you in those moments when you try to break free of his influence. It's interesting how much he compliments the cleanliness of the taxicab that he hijacks at the beginning of the film. The devil's not ugly—he likes things clean, shiny, and efficient. That way, nobody tries to look at what's going on underneath.

About halfway through Collateral, the poor, persecuted cab driver turns and delivers an ultimatum to this gun-wielding hit man who has commandeered his car and his services for the night. He describes his hijacker as a man "missing some parts" that are "supposed to be there." In that moment, Max (Jamie Foxx), a mild-mannered driver with big dreams, sums up his cold-hearted passenger.

Not just another ride in a yellow cab

But the words resonate on another level, because they perfectly describe the distinct acting quality of the man playing the killer: Tom Cruise.

Cruise has always looked like a movie star. But most of his roles—from Top Gun to Days of Thunder to A Few Good Men and The Last Samurai—have been similar: driven champions-to-be, momentarily prevented from triumph, bound to overcome some personal obstacle or loss, and then grinning and glorious in the winner's circle. Cruise's performances always evidence drive and discipline, but little else. They lack complexity or heart. They've got rock-and-roll, but they've got no soul. Cruise is a salesman, relentlessly working everything in his power—especially his smile—in order to please you. The façade never comes down to reveal what's behind it.

Thus, in the superstar's most interesting roles, that opacity and superficiality has been exploited by the director so the audience recognizes how creepy it is. When he played the heartless, arrogant punk in Rain Man who needed a moral mentor, the shiny shoes fit just right. As a spiritually bankrupt bloodsucker in Interview with the Vampire, he oozed vanity and thirst. In Magnolia, he strutted and preened for the cameras, a boasting paragon of chauvinism, a prodigal son too proud to go home.

Now, in Collateral, Cruise has his best role yet. He's wearing a designer suit that deserves its own Oscar. It's cut to a perfect fit, just like his shockingly silver hair. Except for the wolf-grey beard, he looks like he's made out of stainless steel, and when he runs, you half-expect him to morph into Terminator 2's T-1000. His grin gleams with menace. He's as quick and sharp as a dagger in the back, and yet he seems likely to dissipate into the air at any moment, like a nightmare or a chill. Even the character's name—Vincent—carries an air of artistry.

Jamie Foxx and Jada Pinkett Smith

Vincent's in L.A. for one night to kill off five people. To him, they're nobody special, but to the offshore drug-trafficking cartel that hired him, they're key witnesses in a case that could bring down their dirty dealings. All Vincent needs is a cooperative driver who will follow orders, either by bribery or by persuasion with a pistol. Max is the unlucky winner. As they hit the streets, the signage printed inside the cab takes on added significance: "Buckle your seat belt." "Two passengers ride for the price of one."

Max, it turns out, is more interesting than Vincent. He's a hard-working driver who knows the ins and outs of L.A. freeways at night, just as his moral compass knows its way around right and wrong. Despite his twelve-year expertise, he insists the job is only temporary. Someday, he promises, he's going to run a Grade-A limousine service. To keep his dreams alive, he keeps a postcard-photo of a tropical island clipped to his visor. Yet, somehow, those dreams are never tangible enough to get him out of the taxi and into the world of risk and possibility.

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