After graduating from America’s best pal to America’s dad, the actor has been taking more risks in his later career, including a transformative role in Baz Luhrmann’s Elvis
In performing arts schools and training programs, instructors often say that acting is about making big, decisive choices and committing to them totally. This seems like the best way to make sense of Tom Hanks’ outsized supporting turn in the new biopic Elvis as “Colonel” Tom Parker, Elvis Aaron Presley’s Dutch-born manager and parasitic, gambling-addicted svengali. Among the more puzzling choices made by Hanks: speaking in a vinegary twang that’s sometimes regionally indistinct, sometimes a legible fusion of deep south drawl and lyrical Euro-lilt; donning a prosthetic neck that makes him look like he’s liable to yell at Elvis to “get in my belly”; assuming a lumbering physicality that only grows more pronounced as Colonel Tom prepares to shuffle off his mortal coil in a (probably) metaphorical casino of fate. Having mastered the craft and won all the accolades, he now appears to be motivated primarily by his own amusement, like a video gamer who’s beaten the final boss and moved on to exploring the farthest limits of the virtual world in search of glitches.
As inexplicable as his Colonel Tom may be on a minute-by-minute basis, as a whole, the wild-eyed performance fits squarely within the context of Hanks’s career in its semi-experimental, drastically inconsistent late phase. The last decade has seen one of the planet’s biggest movie stars punctuating stretches of typecast roles with strange and often misbegotten forays into less-familiar territory, to varying degrees of success. He could be getting bored and looking for a novel test of skill, or as an uncharacteristically gruff recent encounter with mobbing fans suggests, he could be developing an edge as he advances through his 60s. Whatever the case, an image forms of a restless ageing expert, torn between excelling in what he’s good at and challenging himself no matter how sparse his success. For someone who’s more than earned the complacency of middle age, his continued unpredictability makes for a cockeyed act of generosity.
