Jerry Maguire

Jerry Maguire (1996), directed by Cameron Crowe

There are many films that allow men to fulfill their fantasies (if only in a voyeuristic sense). These are the action films, or (for the seamier, Travis Bickle-types) the porno flicks. What is the female equivalent of these movies? Jerry Maguire, for one. In this film, millions of women imagine themselves in the Renee Zellweger role, where they can (yes!) actually be married to Tom Cruise. Meanwhile, millions of men stand nearby and retch (except for those members of the critical cabal who seem to be pushing the concent of "Tom Cruise as a serious actor" on an innocent nation).

Actually, I didn't hate this movie: it has its heart in the right place. Unlike some men, I don't mind films about relationships. As a film about relationships, this one is certainly as valid as fellow Oscar-nominees Shine or The English Patient. It is highly flawed, however. Allow me to elucidate.

It's too long. It is never clear what the focus is (is it a film about Maguire's relationship with his girlfriend or his client, or Maguire himself?). And why is it that "happiness" must always be accompanied by "financial plenty" in the American cinema?

That's probably the biggest problem: if Hollywood wishes to truly move the public, they should create a film about characters that are not alienated so far from the public. Near the beginning of the film, we are made to feel sorry for Dorothy (Miss Zellweger) as she is riding in an airplane's coach section...but wait a sec! I always ride in coach (as does the majority of Americans)! So what is her sacrifice, exactly? So she doesn't have the world on a platter. So prettyboy Cruise has his perfect world disturbed.

Cameron Crowe, you're a talented guy, so let me give you some advice. Don't try remaking Death of a Salesman. Don't try remaking Glengarry Glen Ross. That isn't your style. Try something frothy and light, and let poignancy grow out of that. Go watch some Billy Wilder films, some Keaton films (Buster, not Michael), and use them as your models.

The actors are okay. Cuba Gooding Jr. won the supporting Oscar as football player Rod, and he does the best male performance of the film. Jonathan Lipnicki, doing a standard "cutesy" performance, has been overpraised as Dorothy's son Ray. Most of the rest of the cast is one-dimensional (if that much). It is instructive, however, to examine how the various actors respond to fear, loathing, and emptiness. Miss Zellweger is a mass of tics and whining. Mr. Cruise is all emoting, totally fake. Only Bonnie Hunt, as Dorothy's sister and confidant, plays a convincing character: she verbalizes all her fears in a constant patter, constantly threatening to derail. I believed her.

That this was the only studio film to be nominated for best picture is an adequate illustration of what a crappy year 1996 was for Hollywood. Anyway, it is critic-proof. If this is the sort of thing you like, you'll like it.

Please Hollywood: quit ennobling Tom Cruise already. Millions of men want to slap him so hard, and after this film, we want to slap him even harder.