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These days, there seems to be no more reliable way to elicit a sensational media mogul sound-bite than by placing a tape recorder on the desk of antediluvian Viacom potentate Sumner Redstone, prompting, "Tom Cruise...go!" and waiting to see what angry words pour out once the mere mention of the actor's name starts to heat up the blood-dust pumping through the executive's desiccated circulatory system. Page Six reports that Redstone's anti-Cruise campaign will continue in the pages of an upcoming issue of Vanity Fair (you can read the entire article here), where he confirms his wife's rumored role in Paramount's public dissociation with the sofa-stomping star, then throws out a ballpark, nine-figure estimate of what he thinks Cruise's antics cost M:i:III:

"Paula, like women everywhere, had come to hate him. The truth of the matter is, I did listen to her . . ." Redstone says. "His behavior was entirely unacceptable to Paula and to the rest of the world. He just didn't turn one [woman] off. He turned off all women, and a lot of men."

Redstone estimates that Cruise's antics - acting wacky, ripping into psychiatry, firing his professional publicist - were the key elements in the star's downfall: "When did I decide [to fire him]? I don't know. When he was on the 'Today' show? When he was jumping on a couch at 'Oprah'? He changed his handler, you know, to his sister [LeAnne Devette] - not a good idea." [...]

Redstone estimates that Cruise's bizarre behavior cost Paramount "$100 million, $150 million on 'Mission: Impossible III.' It was the best picture of the three, and it did the worst." He isn't sorry he embarrassed Cruise publicly: "The explosion was good. It sent a message to the rest of the world that the time of the big star getting all this money is over. And it is! I would like to think that what I did, or what we did, has had a salutary effect on the rest of the industry."

Perhaps Redstone allowed himself to get a little caught up in yet another moment of airing his thoughts on the Cruise menace, clenching a liver-spotted, veiny fist, waving it in front of him, and promising to "sock that little punk in the jaw the next time I see him, on behalf of all the studios sick and tired of having their profit margins destroyed by runaway talent costs." He then momentarily softened, adding, "But don't get me wrong—we'd work with him again if we found a project that made sense. We're still showbiz friends."