A wise critic (me, right now) once said that action is the universal cinematic language, and Tom Cruise is living proof of that. If the startling revival of Top Gun in the worldwide box office didn't already signify this, then the Mission Impossible franchise, now 27 years long, all but cements it. There's an early scene in Dead Reckoning Part One that is emblematic of all that this series is about, stylistically: the American bigwigs sit in a room and unspool exposition for the audience after the cold open. A rogue AI is on the loose and threatens the national security of every world power. They're the heads of the CIA, IMF, NSA; you name it. It doesn't matter who they are, but what they represent: men (and sometimes, occasionally, women) who are all keenly aware of their near-approaching chance to seize absolute power, men who would sell their souls for that level of control, men who are, in short, not Ethan Hunt. What should be a simple group conversation is shot in the most maximalist way possible, with the coverage frequently breaking the 180-degree rule, pushing in and showing us every gleam in their eyes with extreme close-ups, tilting into a Dutch angle as much as the camera allows, and, when a certain suit slips in, always framing him in the background to practically draw a red arrow to his presence. Never has shallow focus been so in your face. The longer they talk, the more his statue-esque figure haunts the screen, and the more the tension simmers, until finally the scene pops, the mask comes off, and we audibly gasp and laugh and exhale. Not many action movies can make you feel all of those emotions, nevertheless simultaneously. Dead Reckoning then proceeds to do precisely that that precisely over and over again.
In a modern world of living computer programs sabotaging entire nations and drones able to invisibly execute from thousands of miles away, you'd think that plastic masks would have been discarded long ago for slicker, more advanced tech (remember when a dropping into a vault via cables was the peak of this series' stunts?). Not the case for Mission Impossible, which not only steers into the skid, but doubles down repeatedly, and those reveals hit every single time. It doesn't make sense for a sentient artificial intelligence, or, to be honest, any living person with eyes, to not notice a skin crease or stiff cheek. It doesn't have to. IMF sounds like and is a name made up by a 12 year old for the zaniest, coolest action sequences that take you to the limit, and then keep going. For years, the Naughty Dog's Uncharted franchise was heralded for their ability to capture movie-scale blockbuster moments on the smaller screen and let the player experience every explosion and death-defying stunt for themselves. Its second instalment literally drops you into a train carriage hanging off a cliffside in medias res, asking you to jump, climb, and dodge falling furniture to survive. Dead Reckoning more or less recreates this sequence in the midst of its climax AFTER the infamous motorcycle BASE jump, adds two more carriage cutscenes after you think it's over, and then makes Hunt escape from the train AGAIN in a skywing parachute. The theme music swells. We're onto Part 2.
Dead Reckoning is the franchise's funniest film, too, because of the sheer earnestness that it commits to each and every moment, unwilling for even a second to consider becoming a parody of itself. They shot it, so it is in the film. They shot it, so it exists and happens. The train carriages tumble over, and then again, and again. The entire chase in Rome is a masterclass of slapstick action ramped up to 100, high-octane stunts performed by Fiat and tactical jeep alike. Just see Pom Klementieff's maniacal glee as she squashes scooter after scooter in her pursuit; that's all of us, tracking the runaways by spotting the dented cars. I was giggling each time the pair of CIA grunts inexplicably ended up at the scene of the action, and then cheering them on because they're ultimately harmless and only want to witness it all with their own eyes like we do (it can't be a coincidence that one of them resembles Harry from Home Alone). When Hunt runs across the airport's roof in plain view whilst the two scratch their heads? Perfect. The train landing is improbable and hazardous and has Cruise's name stamped all over it, and when the shot reveals a convenient ramp-shaped rock formation, everyone knows what is about to happen. These aren't mere ironic subversions; the franchise has reached a point where it isn't afraid to poke fun at itself, so why hold back on anything? We're not laughing at it for being ridiculous and overwrought, but with it and along with every other member in the audience because it is delivering exactly what we want and are often too embarrassed to admit we want. In a media age where sincerity is poison and everything needs to be obscured by layer upon layer of irony and cynicism, there's a lot of value in that.
The plot and characterisation are often ancillary, although given the main objectives of the series, this isn't the biggest sin. Sometimes, one needs to serve the other. Listen to stunt coordinator and unit director Wade Eastwood sum it up: it's not merely about shooting what is on the script, but needing a character to go from point A to B, and devising the most entertaining means of getting them there. Newcomer Grace is breezily inserted as a small-time accomplice before very suddenly becoming a bigger piece of the puzzle that is the global arms race, and the script does as good a job as it can in endearing us to her as Atwell and Cruise sell us on her importance. If there's one casualty (perhaps self-inflicted due to her rising career, or for some, an instance of fridging) to this it is Rebecca Ferguson's Ilsa, who has been as constant as a love interest in this franchise can be over the last three editions. I'm almost impressed at the ease in which they swap the old model for the new, as if the move was a pre-ordained, Entity-foretold sequence that needed to happen for Part 2 to come into fruition. It's a classic example of the plot prioritising fresh spectacle over emotional heft (I still don't understand why he had to make a choice between the two or how it came to be), and whilst the traditionalist in me should criticise this, my heart was already racing towards the next scene. Another example: Dead Reckoning Part 2 is reportedly the farewell to Ethan Hunt for good, and yet Tom Cruise has also mentioned that he wouldn't turn down an opportunity to return in another film. I'm kidding myself if I said no to that for the sake of the franchise's narrative integrity.
Let's be honest. The film is at its clumsiest when it is trying to round the story's edges; I thought I had completely forgotten about the pivotal scene where Gabriel kills the brunette from Hunt's past, only to realise that it's basically a retcon to beef up his tragic backstory. Given the former's proximity in the race for the magical Macguff-err I mean, very important key, it's hard to be truly frightened of his presence. The AI portion of the premise provides the script with enough convenience to ramp up the tension at a moment's notice, able to morph into any digital threat that the scenario requires. But what more appropriate villain for Ethan Hunt, for Tom Cruise? Much like the Entity itself, he has always risen to the challenge, described aptly as "a mind-reading, shape-shifting incarnation of chaos", and in an era where technology increasingly threatens the very existence of the movie star, he shifts and morphs and goes to another level. When we see Hunt hurtle off a cliff with only a parachute, it is an iron-clad guarantee with the audience that it is him on that motorcycle; you can use CGI to simulate any impossible stunt, but nothing replaces the natural and emotional edge of it actually happening before our eyes. When he runs, it is with every cell in his body, as if to stop running is to cease to exist altogether, the new age of filmmaking nipping at his heels. When Ferguson has been dispatched and Atwell herself seems to lack confidence in her own importance, Cruise looks her in the eye with the utmost reassurance. We can scarcely believe it a mere hour after her introduction, but he wills it into existence. When he says he will be on that train, we KNOW he will be on that train, one way or another. In the age of the cinematic universe and IP battles, you have to respect the work ethic, the sheer desire, of the last genuine Hollywood action star, the last leading man. Tom Cruise is his own brand. Sorry, Jeremy Renner.
In a modern world of living computer programs sabotaging entire nations and drones able to invisibly execute from thousands of miles away, you'd think that plastic masks would have been discarded long ago for slicker, more advanced tech (remember when a dropping into a vault via cables was the peak of this series' stunts?). Not the case for Mission Impossible, which not only steers into the skid, but doubles down repeatedly, and those reveals hit every single time. It doesn't make sense for a sentient artificial intelligence, or, to be honest, any living person with eyes, to not notice a skin crease or stiff cheek. It doesn't have to. IMF sounds like and is a name made up by a 12 year old for the zaniest, coolest action sequences that take you to the limit, and then keep going. For years, the Naughty Dog's Uncharted franchise was heralded for their ability to capture movie-scale blockbuster moments on the smaller screen and let the player experience every explosion and death-defying stunt for themselves. Its second instalment literally drops you into a train carriage hanging off a cliffside in medias res, asking you to jump, climb, and dodge falling furniture to survive. Dead Reckoning more or less recreates this sequence in the midst of its climax AFTER the infamous motorcycle BASE jump, adds two more carriage cutscenes after you think it's over, and then makes Hunt escape from the train AGAIN in a skywing parachute. The theme music swells. We're onto Part 2.
Dead Reckoning is the franchise's funniest film, too, because of the sheer earnestness that it commits to each and every moment, unwilling for even a second to consider becoming a parody of itself. They shot it, so it is in the film. They shot it, so it exists and happens. The train carriages tumble over, and then again, and again. The entire chase in Rome is a masterclass of slapstick action ramped up to 100, high-octane stunts performed by Fiat and tactical jeep alike. Just see Pom Klementieff's maniacal glee as she squashes scooter after scooter in her pursuit; that's all of us, tracking the runaways by spotting the dented cars. I was giggling each time the pair of CIA grunts inexplicably ended up at the scene of the action, and then cheering them on because they're ultimately harmless and only want to witness it all with their own eyes like we do (it can't be a coincidence that one of them resembles Harry from Home Alone). When Hunt runs across the airport's roof in plain view whilst the two scratch their heads? Perfect. The train landing is improbable and hazardous and has Cruise's name stamped all over it, and when the shot reveals a convenient ramp-shaped rock formation, everyone knows what is about to happen. These aren't mere ironic subversions; the franchise has reached a point where it isn't afraid to poke fun at itself, so why hold back on anything? We're not laughing at it for being ridiculous and overwrought, but with it and along with every other member in the audience because it is delivering exactly what we want and are often too embarrassed to admit we want. In a media age where sincerity is poison and everything needs to be obscured by layer upon layer of irony and cynicism, there's a lot of value in that.
The plot and characterisation are often ancillary, although given the main objectives of the series, this isn't the biggest sin. Sometimes, one needs to serve the other. Listen to stunt coordinator and unit director Wade Eastwood sum it up: it's not merely about shooting what is on the script, but needing a character to go from point A to B, and devising the most entertaining means of getting them there. Newcomer Grace is breezily inserted as a small-time accomplice before very suddenly becoming a bigger piece of the puzzle that is the global arms race, and the script does as good a job as it can in endearing us to her as Atwell and Cruise sell us on her importance. If there's one casualty (perhaps self-inflicted due to her rising career, or for some, an instance of fridging) to this it is Rebecca Ferguson's Ilsa, who has been as constant as a love interest in this franchise can be over the last three editions. I'm almost impressed at the ease in which they swap the old model for the new, as if the move was a pre-ordained, Entity-foretold sequence that needed to happen for Part 2 to come into fruition. It's a classic example of the plot prioritising fresh spectacle over emotional heft (I still don't understand why he had to make a choice between the two or how it came to be), and whilst the traditionalist in me should criticise this, my heart was already racing towards the next scene. Another example: Dead Reckoning Part 2 is reportedly the farewell to Ethan Hunt for good, and yet Tom Cruise has also mentioned that he wouldn't turn down an opportunity to return in another film. I'm kidding myself if I said no to that for the sake of the franchise's narrative integrity.
Let's be honest. The film is at its clumsiest when it is trying to round the story's edges; I thought I had completely forgotten about the pivotal scene where Gabriel kills the brunette from Hunt's past, only to realise that it's basically a retcon to beef up his tragic backstory. Given the former's proximity in the race for the magical Macguff-err I mean, very important key, it's hard to be truly frightened of his presence. The AI portion of the premise provides the script with enough convenience to ramp up the tension at a moment's notice, able to morph into any digital threat that the scenario requires. But what more appropriate villain for Ethan Hunt, for Tom Cruise? Much like the Entity itself, he has always risen to the challenge, described aptly as "a mind-reading, shape-shifting incarnation of chaos", and in an era where technology increasingly threatens the very existence of the movie star, he shifts and morphs and goes to another level. When we see Hunt hurtle off a cliff with only a parachute, it is an iron-clad guarantee with the audience that it is him on that motorcycle; you can use CGI to simulate any impossible stunt, but nothing replaces the natural and emotional edge of it actually happening before our eyes. When he runs, it is with every cell in his body, as if to stop running is to cease to exist altogether, the new age of filmmaking nipping at his heels. When Ferguson has been dispatched and Atwell herself seems to lack confidence in her own importance, Cruise looks her in the eye with the utmost reassurance. We can scarcely believe it a mere hour after her introduction, but he wills it into existence. When he says he will be on that train, we KNOW he will be on that train, one way or another. In the age of the cinematic universe and IP battles, you have to respect the work ethic, the sheer desire, of the last genuine Hollywood action star, the last leading man. Tom Cruise is his own brand. Sorry, Jeremy Renner.