In the wake of his ties to Scientology, his takes on psychiatry, and the infamous Oprah interview, Tom Cruise has worked hard to hide himself from the public eye for the past decade-plus. When he does emerge, it’s typically within the vacuum-sealed environment of press junkets and late-night appearances. As a result, Cruise has felt less like a person than Hollywood’s real-life version of the Winter Soldier: a vessel activated for death-defying stunts who then goes into cryogenic stasis between productions. (This would also explain why the 62-year-old Cruise appears to have barely aged a day.) If any other movie star was spotted on the roof of the BFI IMAX building, it’d be cause for concern; for Cruise, it’s just part of his programming.
Moments such as these are, yes, strange as hell, but they’re also the perfect selling point for the Mission: Impossible franchise. Based on the 1966 TV series of the same name, Mission: Impossible has been a fixture in the blockbuster landscape for almost 30 years; in terms of longevity, the franchise’s closest modern analogue is probably Fast & Furious. But while the Fast franchise evolved to compete with the superhero movies that’ve dominated much of the 21st century, Mission: Impossible has worn as many faces as its IMF agents, allowing different filmmakers to put their own stamp on the series. The one constant, however, is Cruise, who’s made it his mission to push the limits of practical action set pieces—and his own body—to spectacular results. And if the aptly named Final Reckoning is to be our last adventure with Ethan Hunt, it’ll be a tall order for anything to dethrone Mission: Impossible as Hollywood’s greatest action franchise.
Premiering in 1996, the first Mission: Impossible had director Brian De Palma at the helm, which in and of itself was a statement of intent. De Palma’s work has frequently drawn comparisons to that of Alfred Hitchcock—albeit with a liberal sprinkling of sex and violence—and that sentiment carries over to Mission: Impossible. The film opens with Hunt and his team on a mission in Kyiv that ends with everyone other than our hero dead; in what becomes a recurring theme in the series, Hunt goes on the run, as his own agency mistakenly believes he’s betrayed them. While Mission: Impossible culminates with an explosive train and helicopter sequence, the film is more in its wheelhouse as an exercise in suspense—nothing if not on-brand for a Hitchcock heir.
That willingness to make Mission: Impossible an auteur-driven tentpole extends to the three sequels that follow it. Mission: Impossible 2 is an unmistakable John Woo joint—all the way down to the white doves—in which Hunt becomes less of a traditional spy than a gun-wielding, motorcycle-driving martial artist. (Mission: Impossible 2 wasn’t for everyone, but I see the vision.) Mission: Impossible III hails from J.J. Abrams, who, taking some world-building cues from his work on Alias and Lost, adds some new dimensions to Hunt, including a fiancée in peril (played by Michelle Monaghan). Were it not for an all-time villain performance from the late Philip Seymour Hoffman, however, I suspect Mission: Impossible III would be viewed as the franchise’s low point, which is more indicative of Abrams’s limitations as a filmmaker than anything to do with the plot. Then came Ghost Protocol, wherein Brad Bird makes a seamless transition from the world of animation to live-action filmmaking. Indeed, some of the best set pieces in Ghost Protocol have a playful, cartoonish quality to them—in a good way.
On the Hunt for More Ethan Hunt? We’ve Got You Covered
At this point, Mission: Impossible was becoming the American answer to the James Bond franchise—not just because their protagonists shared the same profession, but because they proved that IP films are best served by having a real sense of authorship behind the camera. But Mission: Impossible has been a different beast since Rogue Nation. The last three films—as well as The Final Reckoning—have been directed by Christopher McQuarrie, a frequent Cruise collaborator going back to Valkyrie. McQuarrie is not without his own style; the franchise’s commitment to practical action, in particular, has leveled up with him. But McQuarrie’s quartet is better remembered for its increasingly ludicrous self-mythologizing of Hunt.
As Alec Baldwin’s CIA director, Alan Hunley, says in Rogue Nation, without a hint of irony, Hunt is “the literal manifestation of destiny.” Hunt isn’t just a superspy: He’s all that stands in the way of the world falling apart. His devotion is so intense that he breaks things off with his fiancée so that nobody can use her against him—celibacy for the greater good. Again, this transformation brings to mind Fast & Furious, as Vin Diesel’s Dominic Toretto went from swiping VHS players to becoming Superman in a white tank top. But while the Fast movies have experienced a steady drop in quality the more they’ve mythologized Dom, Mission: Impossible has only grown in stature alongside Hunt’s absurd heroics. As for why, it’s simple: Cruise backs up the big talk.
In the past four movies alone, Cruise has [checks notes] hung off the side of a cargo plane, held his breath underwater for six minutes, executed a HALO jump, learned how to fly a helicopter, shattered his ankle while jumping between buildings, driven a motorcycle off a cliff, and, now, hung off the side of a biplane. Cruise performing such daring feats for the audience’s entertainment is gimmicky, to be sure, especially when Paramount’s always got a behind-the-scenes featurette on standby. But there’s no A-lister who even approaches this unhinged level of commitment—to the extent that Cruise may actually believe he is Ethan Hunt. This, in turn, makes Mission: Impossible such an easy buy-in for viewers: In the stunt-work tradition going back to the days of Buster Keaton, we know Cruise is really putting it all on the line.
With that old-school sensibility, it’s only fitting that the franchise’s latest villain is the Entity, a sentient artificial intelligence program that’s capable of infiltrating global defense systems. AI is topical as a threat to not just real-life national security—Dead Reckoning’s plot even alarmed then-president Joe Biden—but also Hollywood itself, an industry in the midst of its own reckoning with algorithms determining what kinds of movies get made. Like Top Gun: Maverick, in which Cruise’s Pete “Maverick” Mitchell faces the existential threat of pilots being rendered obsolete by drones before saving the day, Mission: Impossible contends that the Entity’s cold, calculated approach is no match for human ingenuity.
The Entity returns in The Final Reckoning, as Hunt and his team attempt to stop the AI from launching every global power’s nukes into orbit. But despite the fate of the entire world hanging in the balance, The Final Reckoning’s climactic set piece is as analog as they come: Hunt and the Entity’s human emissary, Gabriel (Esai Morales), take to the skies in biplanes. Even if Paramount hadn’t given it away in the film’s marketing, it’s a foregone conclusion that Hunt would find himself clinging to the edge of one of these planes. This is the Mission: Impossible guarantee: In set pieces big and small, Hunt—and, by extension, Cruise—will pull off something that leaves your jaw on the floor.
“I need you to trust me, one last time,” Hunt says in The Final Reckoning’s teaser to a character off-screen, but it doesn’t take a generous reading to see this moment doubling as Cruise communicating directly with the audience. With Dead Reckoning underwhelming at the box office, it’s far from a sure thing that The Final Reckoning will lead to the Mission: Impossible franchise (potentially) going out on a high note. But after nearly three decades of executing stunts that’ve pushed the boundaries of what blockbuster filmmaking should strive to be, Cruise and Co. have already met the mission.
