But by the time the movie roared to its shockingly grim, remarkably embittered ending, American Made had won me over.

It skitters and jumps, shivers and boot-scoots, never, ever sitting still. You could say it's like "Blow," on well, blow. But there's a breezy sunniness to this film, which looks like a faded snapshot reclaimed from an '80s photo album.

One assumes that Cruise got this film made, yet he's a terrible fit for the role: he's always done his best work portraying smart, insightful characters in dramatic stories, but Seal was a yahoo whose sorry escapades are played here for cynical laughs.

American Made might push Cruise further along his evolution to more interesting, character-based roles. One doesn’t expect an immediate return to iconic roles like Vincent Lauria or T.J. Mackey, but hopefully Barry Seal is just the start.