At 36, Cruise is one of those rare stars who remembers where he came from—and how hard it was to get where he is. The third of four children born to Thomas, an electrical engineer, and Mary, a special-education teacher, Thomas Cruise Mapother IV dropped his last name at age 18, six years after his parents divorced. His mother held as many as four jobs at once to keep her daughters and son fed and clothed. Her persistent search for better circumstances resulted in Cruise's attending 15 different schools. "When I hear about a mom who is single, my heart goes right there," says Cruise. "It was at times painful and really, really lonely for her." Dyslexia compounded the problems of adolescence; the frustration of not being able to process written words led to poor grades and a low self-image. After a knee injury forced him to quit high school wrestling, Cruise tried out for a play, then grew so enthralled with acting that he left school to make his way to New York City and Hollywood.
By age 21 he had made six films, most notably 1983's Risky Business, which transformed him into a star. In the late 1980s he joined the controversial Church of Scientology, which he credits with helping him overcome his dyslexia. Though he has earned two Oscar nominations (for Born on the Fourth of July and Jerry Maguire), Cruise still dedicates himself to mastering the task at hand, whether it is memorizing his lines or roasting a chicken. While in England filming this summer's Eyes Wide Shut with Kidman, he learned to cook from costar Sydney Pollack, who had the trailer next door. "I started him off with simple recipes such as spare ribs," says Pollack. "He'd watch me and write it all down. Sometimes he'd videotape it. He's a very thorough and serious guy. He's a great cook now."
In the kitchen with Pollack, racing cars with Color of Money costar Paul Newman or dining out with Steven Spielberg, Cruise remains in awe of other Hollywood talent. "He is the world's biggest fan," says Cameron Crowe, who directed him in 1996's Jerry Maguire. "Tom is the first to laugh, the first to applaud and has the greatest memory for any actor who appeared in the smallest part." He has seen thousands: As a boy, Cruise mowed lawns for $5 a pop and bought his way into the multiplex. "You go early and figure out the times," he says. "Then you pay for one movie and figure out how you can sneak into all the other ones. That was my life of crime." The thrill isn't gone. "When I was a kid, and I was seeing Stanley [Kubrick]'s work and Steven [Spielberg], and I remember seeing [Martin] Scorsese, and all of a sudden there I am across from [Paul] Newman and [Gene] Hackman," he says. "It's still pretty trippy for me." A recent evening at Spielberg's house left Cruise feeling "like a little kid."
At home, Isabella, 5, and Connor, 3, keep Cruise grounded. When it comes to parenting, he says, "we're just trying to figure the damn thing out." He and Kidman, 31, read to their children "every night before they go to bed," he says. "We work out our schedules around them. I take them to school, or Nic does." These days, Cruise practices reverse psychology on Connor: "I say yes. He says no. I say no. He says yes. So anytime I want him to do something, I tell him he can't do it, and he says yes and goes and does it."
The couple's schedules make for some unorthodox child-rearing practices. "Sometimes we go out to dinner and stay up until about 2, 3 in the morning and wake up the kids," he says. "They chat and play games, and they go back to sleep. It's wild." It may not be conventional, but Cruise notes that his own upbringing Was hardly typical. "What is right? What is wrong?" he asks. "As long as we're together, that is the most important thing." The greatest challenge, he admits, is discipline. "Especially the way we travel, to keep that consistent is difficult." Then again, "they get to travel the world and learn about different cultures."
Wherever they go, Cruise and Kidman strive to keep a prying public from penetrating the iron curtain of privacy that they draw around their home life. Last November, Cruise successfully sued a British tabloid that had revived an old rumor that Cruise is gay and his eight-year marriage is for cameras only. "They printed that and said some brutal things about my children," he says. "I just go, 'You know what, guys? This is not okay. My kids go to school, and they have friends, and things go out on the Internet. Stop it. It is not okay.' "
So, how are things between the pair Cruise once claimed would be on their honeymoon forever? "There are moments when we say this honeymoon is on pause for the next two hours while we get things worked out," he says wryly. "You really only learn about yourself by that stuff that bounces back in your face." All in all, things must be good: For kicks they fly a two-seater plane, dubbed Sweet Nic, with Cruise at the controls and a mirror specially angled so he can see his wife's face behind him.
Cruise wishes that he had enough privacy to be able to mount his well-known Good Samaritan rescue acts without attracting notice; he has saved lives in Santa Monica and London and off the island of Capri. "It's not the greatest thing in the world to be rescued by me," he points out. "The next day, everyone comes knocking on the door." Otherwise, he is very happy to be Tom Cruise. "I think it's the greatest job of all time," he says. "It has its days and its moments, but listen, it's great. If you can't enjoy this, forget it. Are you kidding me?"
Jill Smolowe
Danelle Morton in Los Angeles
- Contributors:
- Danelle Morton.
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