Mission: Impossible – The Final Reckoning

The Mission: Impossible franchise – reliably fun, endlessly inventive, admirably committed to so much silliness – sent out the first distress flares in 2023’s Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One, signaling it had lost sight of its own greatest strengths. Sure, there was that zippy car chase in Rome – you remember the handcuffs, the tiny car – and the train dangling over a ravine – so good! But Dead Reckoning also introduced higher stakes and a lesser sense of humor about itself, as well as a head-scratching villain combo, the rogue AI dubbed the Entity and its ascot-wearing, corporeal henchman, Gabriel (Morales).

Everything that was such a downer in Dead Reckoning has been doubled down on in Final Reckoning, which has dropped the original “Part Two” labeling but nonetheless is a direct connector to the previous film. (This is not a standalone picture you can parachute into; I’ve seen Part One twice and still had trouble keeping straight everyone’s motivations in Final Reckoning.) Whereas previous films in the franchise – launched so memorably in 1996 and now numbering eight in total – spun gold from preposterous plot turns and the lightly goofy tradecraft utilized by the Impossible Mission Force (IMF) agents led by Ethan Hunt (Cruise), Final Reckoning is one long slog: frequently incomprehensible, almost entirely up its own ass.

Who was clamoring for lore from the Mission: Impossible franchise? Was anybody looking for an “Emperor Palpatine’s your grandpop”-like revelation? Was it so very important to see again the knife that slipped out of Jean Reno’s grasp at Langley in Brian De Palma’s first film? Christopher McQuarrie – Cruise’s handpicked helmer of the series since 2015’s Rogue Nation – treats that knife like a religious relic, and references so much of M:I’s back catalog, including literal clip reels of its greatest hits, it plays dangerously close to a preemptive “In Memoriam.” Makes sense: For long stretches of wooden acting and wanly shot shoe leather scenes, Final Reckoning barely has a pulse.

As in Dead Reckoning, there are two standout action set pieces – one set underwater as Ethan goes searching for a missing submarine (involving a small turn from Severance’s Trammell Tillman, a bright spot), and one airborne in South Africa. Both set pieces are effective delivery systems of breathless suspense and technical feats explicitly meant to make us marvel at how good Cruise, now in his 60s, still is at action. No arguments here. But the film – so dour, so joyless – is consumed with framing Cruise’s Ethan Hunt as a Christ-like figure. There’s a real world comp, of course: No less than Steven Spielberg said Cruise “saved” the film industry with the adrenaline shot Top Gun: Maverick provided during the pandemic. And that’s great. Good on you, Tom. I believe in the theatrical experience too! Movie theatres are my church! But holy hell, having to sit through nearly three hours of M:I making like Ethan Hunt is the Messiah is not just exhausting: It’s a total misread of what makes these movies so fun. What a bummer.