The Best Nazi



Colonel von Stauffenberg gives Snake Plissken a run for his money.
Photo courtesy of imdb.

As if Tom Cruise hasn’t pulled off the impossible* on enough occasions, he yet again remarkably becomes a character we never knew could actually exist: a good Nazi. Sure, Edward Norton was a bit of a badass in American History X, but at the end of the day, he was still a white boy rape victim until renouncing his dedication to the Führer.

In Valkyrie, Cruise shakes up Deutschland as Colonel Claus von Stauffenberg, a high-ranking official who heads up an inside operation to take out his boss, AKA Hitler. Helping Cruise out is a wide cast of prestigious actors/sagacious old dudes, including Kenneth Branagh, Bill Nighy, Eddie Izzard, Terence Stamp, and Tom Wilkinson (OK, Eddie Izzard is more of a transvestite/comedian, but the other four still count).

Granted, even with the ever-constant presence of Cruise’s powerhouse performance, the film still might have been in danger of becoming not just a sausage fest, but a sausage fest of Nazi bureaucrats swigging whiskey in pampered suites. For this reason, the film introduces Carice van Houten, who’s actually Dutch, not German, but who the hell cares? She’s ridiculously hot, and is therefore the wife of Tom Cruise (although her figure is mysteriously stellar for having pumped out so many little von Stauffernbergs).

This was director Bryan Singer’s first film following Superman Returns. As far as heroism goes, Cruise just makes the blue spandex seem flat-out silly, even without the red underwear. As the Memorial to the German Resistance reads, they “bestowed an eternally vigilant symbol” by sacrificing their lives for “freedom, justice, and honor.” This in addition to rockin’ an eyepatch.

This is why Tom Cruise will always be…the best Nazi.

*No pun intended.

The Best Producer



 As Les Grossman, Tom Cruise kicked it off the heezy and bounced.



 When most of us men are of a younger age, we have certainly dreamed at one point or another of being a guy who is 1) short, 2) bald, and 3) fat. This trio of features is only unique and all-powerful in its entirety. It is therefore no surprise that when out of our teens, we realize such a dream will never come true for most of us. 



Whether this failure is the product of having exceeded the median height for men before the age of 18, or perhaps simply having a full head of hair no matter how many times we got the bright idea of shaving our scalps, we only fail. While the fat part (see no. 3) admittedly remains the easiest feat to accomplish, achieving one out of three is still a miserable failure.

One might think we would have been devastated by the loss of this dream, destined to live on, knowing we will never be short, bald, fat men. But fear not, good people, for we have found ample reason to rejoice! 

“And why is this?” you ask. Because if we had attained our dream, we would still not be successful. Truth be told, we would have felt pathetic when compared to the one and only Tom Cruise. 

As Les Grossman, not only is Cruise bald on top, but he is hairier than an extra from a Planet of the Apes movie everywhere else. Also consistent with his vertically challenged form, he is the pinnacle of assholes everywhere (he is, after all, a top Hollywood producer).

But boy, can he move! If John Travolta suddenly shaved his head, these two could have a good old-fashioned dance off. And it would be close…until Cruise won. From the Rocky Balboa beak and the P-Diddy Sean Puffy Combs rims he wears over it, Tom Cruise is one short, bald, fat mamma jamma.



A God among men.

In Tropic Thunder, Grossman is one viciously nasty change of pace for the best actor in the world. Yet Cruise gets his way with everything from skinny warlords to those ever tricky sodas in a can. At least in the real world, Cruise had enough good sense to only portray a producer in this film, rather than actually producing it. But his role was pivotal enough to set any would-be Mall Santa straight with one single message: Ditch the attitude and lose some weight. In fact, we would even wager that Mr. Clean himself is right now shopping for a toupee.

Everything combines to prove that Tom Cruise is the best bald, fat, short guy ever. But for clarification purposes, we’ll just refer to him as…the best producer. Ever.

– Father Mapother

The Best Rock Star



If you pour some sugar, you will be pouring Tom Cruise.

Bret Michaels, Axl Rose, Vince Neil – what do all of these singers have in common? Even put together, they are all pussies compared to Tom Cruise’s Stacee Jaxx.

Take, for example, the bone-o-meter. None of those other clowns even come close to reaching as high of a number as Jaxx (regarding this issue of comparing the number of women a rock star has slept with, there is a reason both Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley were not mentioned in the opening line; if Tom Cruise wore facial makeup, he would still be the best member of KISS, but that is another hypothetical story).

In Rock of Ages, Cruise is the prototypical hair metal god, living the very same dream which vicariously makes other men keep on ticking. Above all, Jaxx is an asshole – the best asshole, in fact, which is the only way for an 80’s singer to exist as a soul both honest and true.

He lives to f***. He lives to forget. Ironically enough, in the process of maintaining this one-two punch of a lifestyle, he only makes himself more and more unforgettable. Yet “hypocrisy” cannot be screamed. Only envy.

Of course, Jaxx is also the most famous rocker on the planet, not to mention the richest. In comparison, there is, without a doubt, no one even remotely resembling an equal. He spells his first name Stacee with two e’s, and his last name Jaxx with two x’s.

This is why Tom Cruise will always be…the best rock star.

The Best Adulterer



The white man stands alone.
Photo courtesy of tomcruise.com



There comes a point in every successful doctor’s life when his family is home for the evening; his daughter is tucked into bed for the night and his classy wife decides to get stoned and tell a story about another man, making him so jealous that he must  embark on a psychosexual odyssey through the seedy underbelly of humanity.

By exploring the dark crevices of a society dwelling amongst the earth, Dr. William Harford, also known as Bill, is in actuality undertaking a deep search through the inner chambers of his own perseity. One gets the strong sense that Bill is a profound intellectual resisting the daftly insipid plotlines of late night skinemax.

At the end of Bill’s journey, he never does quite cheat, despite coming dangerously close. Surely it’s fitting that only a metaphysical drifter of Tom Cruise’s caliber would ever possess such willpower, not to mention the unparalleled grace with which he displays his temperance. Then again, does Providence play a pivotal role as well?

Normally such a series of occurrences would equal a paradox of wildly oxymoronic proportions. Yet within the canon of Tom Cruise’s unforgettably groundbreaking portrayals, Bill ascends the level of being just another doctor with a stoned wife. Bill proves that a man can in fact be an adulterer without actually having committed adultery.

This is why Tom Cruise will always be…the best adulterer.

The Best Father

The budget of $132 million merely serves as an excuse to show one man's love for his family.
Photo courtesy of tomcruise.com

What a wildly misunderstood film we have on our hands here. After presumably turning down several prior roles for big-budgeted alien invasion popcorn flicks, Tom Cruise finally decided it was time to take on this classic science-fiction genre. Who better to direct than Steven Spielberg? Hell, why not even make the story based on a novella by H.G. Wells!

Majority of shallow moviegoers were no doubt expecting Cruise to once again play a hotshot pilot, this time in the vein of Independence Day heroes Will Smith and Randy Quaid. Instead, Cruise chose to be a guy named "Ray." As far as character goes, Cruise hit the nail on the head so perfectly that he started a forest fire.

Regardless of what religion one is, Ray certainly demonstrates the universally fundamental belief that no one can save the world without first saving his own family. As a title, War of the Worlds carries a much deeper meaning. What is one's own "world" and how does a father win the “war”?

Cruise juggles a vicious, absent ex-wife, a rebellious teenage son, and a deeply adorable daughter who he certainly has a hand (more of an arm, actually) in carrying around. Keep in mind, this was Dakota Fanning while she was still cute (FYI – lesbo action with K-Stewart in The Runaways seemed to be mostly a pathetic Oscar attempt).

The cheesier elements of the 50’s-era, aliens-are-attacking production-style are nowhere to be seen here. This is purely a raw, gritty portrait of the marriage between hardship and love. In our post 9/11 America, Cruise delivers one man’s shot at redeeming not only himself, but also the lives of his family. As soon as he provides, he is then provided for in return.

Plus, he wears a pretty badass jacket.

This is why Tom Cruise will always be…the best father.

The Best Cripple

If flipping channels, younger generations might mistake

Born on the Fourth of July for a My Name Is Earl rerun.

Photo courtesy of pixes.eu

One word: talent. Turning an Oscar-nominated performance, even with a mustache? Pure, unadulterated talent.

Based on a true story, Tom Cruise portrays Ron Kovic, a young man who sacrifices his star athleticism after being moved by a rousing JFK speech. With his nationalism intact, Kovic heads to ‘Nam, where he loses the use of his legs while on foot patrol. He is then dropped backed into society.



Taking a stab at a Hemingway-like quandary of postwar impotence, it’s pretty tragic watching as Kovic is unable to get it up for the prostitute in the Mexican brothel. The truth must be told, regardless of how horrific: no, Kovic can no longer sleep with hookers properly. War has ruined this man.

Keep in mind, Kovic actually was Born on the Fourth of July, as the title suggests. This is the day we celebrate our independence. This is the day representing America’s freedom and greatness.

While Hollywood finally did something right by nominating Tom Cruise for Best Actor in a Leading Role, it was highly unfortunate that in the same year, another guy portraying a true-to-life handicapper came along and took home the little golden statue.

Of course, the fact the Oscar went to the Irish cobbler Daniel Day-Lewis makes a lot of sense, being that America loves foreigners more than its own (which is kind of the point of Born on the Fourth of July). Christy Brown and his damn cerebral palsy left foot weren’t even born on St. Patrick’s Day, for crying out loud!

Then again, getting screwed over is kind of in the spirit of Ron Kovic, isn’t it? Despite everything, it’s proven that even from a wheelchair, a man can still wave the American flag.

This is why Tom Cruise will always be…the best cripple.

The Best Vampire



Lestat could kick the bloody piss out of Edward, although that's not saying much.
Photo courtesy of blog.filmjabber.com



There are vampires, and then there's Tom Cruise. In this dire age of girly teeny-boppers babbling about hogwash such as the Volturi coven and the Quileute wolf pack (werewolves with mysteriously shaven chests), the younger generation fails to recall that vampires were not always portrayed as shuckin' and jivin' drama mamas who got lost on their way home from the Mickey Mouse Club.

Truthfully, the purpose of this tribute on the best vampire of all time is not to simply knock around a rival flash-in-the-pan soap opera, but rather to rightfully glorify Lestat from Interview with the Vampire for his fiercely seductive screen presence.

Although there first must be one more comment made: When did the podunk logging capital of Forks, Washington become more appealingly gothic than the gas-lit streets of the Cajun French New Orleans?

Lestat de Lioncourt is the anti-hero of all anti-heroes, displaying emotion as elusive as the night itself. Really, managing to pull off a remarkably smartass persona despite the gallons of blood he faces on a daily basis? Only Lestat can do this realistically, unlike the thousands of campy P's of S before and after (forget being finished with the dishing of Twilight, we're still on to you and your cash cow, con artist ways, Stephenie Meyer!). Aren't Lestat's flowing golden locks sexier than a bad James Dean impression? We're not sure if you've heard, Stephenie Meyer, but this vampire does have a cause!

When Lestat pops out the reporter's cassette and the radio kicks in with Guns N' Roses' cover of "Sympathy for the Devil," the car drives off into the narrow slashes of dawn.

We would consider damnation too, just to be so cool.

This is why Tom Cruise will always be...the best vampire.