I forgive Tom Cruise.

War of the Worlds is a damn fine movie. The first hour, especially, is the biggest, most awesome—in every sense of the world—thing that Spielberg, or maybe anyone, has ever done. It falters a bit in the second half, and the ending is sure to be controversial, and yet I prefer to think of it as a irony so immense as to be almost invisible. It's also the first film that dominates Cruise, rather than Cruise dominating the film, which is a sign, I think, of maturity, even if we're hard-pressed to find that maturity in Cruise's offscreen life.

Anyway, for most of its length, this is a complex, incredibly involving movie. For most of the first act, especially, you aren't just watching it—it's happening to you. I have a terrible track record at making predictions like this, but I have a hunch that War of the Worlds will become one of those huge, immovable tourist attractions of the movies, like Apocalypse Now, that recenters the cinematic canon by sheer force of gravity. Or maybe not. Either way, I'm seeing it again.