Edge of Tomorrow belongs to a smaller class of quasi-philosophical high-octane sci-fi and action filmmaking that includes Taika Waititi’s What We Do in the Shadows (2014) and the Modern Warfare first-person shooter games (2007–2019). And create it does. Edge of Tomorrow is an audience-pleasing film that, like a sonic boom, also stimulates its viewers’ brains. The film stars Tom Cruise, one of the few consistently committed actors currently working in Hollywood. Edge raises the stakes in filmmaking by showing the lengths to which muscular masculinity can go in order to embody the best of the human condition. It also functions as a symbolic diorama of Cruise’s refusal to give up hope, and his own relentless determination to reinvent himself. Edge of Tomorrow’s title, for instance, is an apt indication of its emphasis on edgework – maintaining a persistent and unshakeable focus on the present.
But let’s take a step back before we wring our hands over Tom Cruise’s performance and interpretations of Edge of Tomorrow: perhaps it’s worth pausing to provide a brief summary of the film for those who have yet to see it. Edge of Tomorrow is set in a forthcoming battleground Earth where an invading alien race seems on the verge of defeating our own. Cruise plays Major William Cage, a reluctant military officer assigned to lead a dangerous invasion over the English Channel. When he proves ineffective, Cage is subjected to a ‘time-loop’, repeatedly dying in battle only to be pulled back to the start of the same day, anew. Within each loop he gains a little more knowledge and a little more ability to move forward until he finally cracks the code to defeating the enemy.
We’re not used to seeing Tom Cruise as a raging tough-guy type. Then again, we’re also not typically used to seeing him as a butt-kicking yet scared soldier who can be exposed to the same kind of roller-coaster cycle of repeated trauma that leads to resilience and growth in real-life PTSD sufferers. This is what makes Cruise’s performance in Edge of Tomorrow unusual: as his character is exposed to the same events over and over again, Cruise is given the opportunity to present and explore a wide array of emotions and character changes. As the character ‘levels up’ or ‘lives’, so do we. Without an edge in Cruise’s performance – that is, a feeling that we’re really in this with his character and that we genuinely care what happens to him – the movie simply wouldn’t work as well.
It’s a science fiction extravaganza, because that’s what you get with a premise like this, but also it’s a film where that ‘sci-fi’ hook is used to tell us something about resilience in the face of disaster, the significance of time and of our ability to change. The edge is in the way the film uses its sci-fi trappings not just as an excuse for a spectacle but as narrative tools. The time-loop element is very well managed here: there’s plenty of thrill-ride action, sure, but also there are thoughtful moments of reflection, and an economy of storytelling designed to keep the film’s more fantastical elements on the ground.
Edge of Tomorrow is a visual feast: the action sequences beat with a driving energy. What makes them so good isn’t that they’re well choreographed or that they look good (they’re both of these) but that they’re embedded in the story. Every new battle feels like another stop on Cage’s road to finding redemption. With every life, the threat of death and the possibility of rebirth adds more weight to the moment. The special effects support the story, making the aliens even more alien and the temporal anomalies even more anomalous, but they never overwhelm the human.
At the core of Edge of Tomorrow is the dramatic relationship between Cruise’s Major Cage and Emily Blunt’s Sergeant Rita Vrataski. Combative at first and full of distrust (no surprise there), their chemistry becomes a more mature type of camaraderie over the loops, leading ultimately to something more emotionally charged. It is this relationship that gives the film its most heartfelt edge, anchoring the narrative arc in the midst of temporal mayhem, its underlying message of hope, when all hope seems lost, a testament to the power of connection in unpredictable times.
Edge of Tomorrow hits home because of edge-of-tomorrow themes – the essence of what it means to be a hero; the value of learning from mistakes; change is hard but possible – and because it packages those ideas in a watchable, even edifying way, one that invites everyday readers to turn inward toward their own lives, to consider the loops they might be trapped in, and what it takes to grow beyond them.
Underneath the trappings of its cheery sci-fi adventure, Edge of Tomorrow is primarily the saga of an existence that bears a fundamental resemblance to ours – defined by a certain tenacity, an ability to reinvent itself, and a willingness to jump back into the fray, even after experiencing a single calamitous disappointment. Edge of Tomorrow is in the cinema because it hits that delicate balance between spectacle and substance. You see it at the cinema because its star, Tom Cruise, was a master of those two extremes at their peaks. And because it reached into the dark corners, corners so familiar yet so pragmatically difficult, of the human condition, and, using the cheeky edge of its ludicrous premise, offered you the chance to feel and, perhaps, learn. That was its edge. In sum, Edge of Tomorrow is a masterclass in how to fuse a high concept with humanity, taking every advantage its premise provides – its actor’s tireless charisma, its inventive narrative and visual effects – to produce a film that’s just as cerebral as it is exciting. For sci-fi and action fans craving character dynamics, this is a film that will bring you to the edge, on all counts. It’s a keeper.
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