Mission: Impossible – Fallout isn’t perfect, but it is a truly manic and full-throated old-fashioned action film, a stunning display of athleticism and derring-do from a 56-year-old star, and probably the very biggest bang you’re likely to wrest from your filmgoing buck this year.
In Fallout, writer/director Christopher McQuarrie picks up right where Mission: Impossible – Rogue Nation left off: The nasal-bleat villain Solomon Lane (Sean Harris) has been captured, and his Syndicate has a new name and a new plot to ruin the world. Ilsa Faust (the exquisite Rebecca Ferguson) is still milling about, and the IMF (“Impossible Mission Force”) once again appears to consist of three people total: Ethan Hunt (Tom Cruise), Benji (Simon Pegg), and Luther (Ving Rhames) — each of whom looks increasingly pickled — plus Alec Baldwin, who strangely does not.
While we’re being ageist, I do confess to wondering how a virgin audience might receive a fictional counterterrorism force consisting of three dudes aged 56 (Cruise), 59 (Rhames), and 48 (Pegg). Trivia time: Tom Cruise first took on this role in 1996, when he was 34; Goldeneye (Brosnan’s first Bond!) was just one year prior. Twenty-two years later, Cruise is still dangling from buildings (for real). Upshot? Cruise’s performance is a real drink in the face of Old Man Time, and an inspirational adrenaline shot straight to the pudge-middles of sherpa dads clear across this broad land. (Look what you, too, could do!)
This time around, the baddies are trying to nab some plutonium to set off nuclear bombs, and Hunt must stop them by (1) driving motorcycles, (2) flying helicopters (more on this later), (3) fighting in bathrooms, (4) putting on masks, and (5) outwitting other pesky agencies that just don’t understand the IMF. (Even notwithstanding its AARP-vintage agents, the IMF, it must be said, remains a ridiculous implementation of a ridiculous concept, but hey — we’re used to it by now.)
The plot is a bit convoluted and actually quite long. (Pro tip, do take a whiz before settling down for this one, which clocks in at two and a half hours of relentless activity.)
Henry Cavill and Vanessa Kirby are new in this installment, and both are great. Cavill is a true specimen, but DC’s Superman is either too milquetoast or (these days) too dark to let him shine — here, although he’s admittedly relegated to playing Cruise’s wingman/foil, Cavill is also sufficiently relieved from the spotlight to splash about in the deep pool of his grunting physicality, able at last to sport a porny mustache. And Vanessa Kirby is stunning as the (wholly unrealistic) “White Widow.” She is to Fallout what Ferguson was to Rogue Nation, whereas Ferguson is here trending more toward the Michelle Monaghan of old. Just to confuse everything further, Michelle Monaghan is in this one, too. Oh, look, a motorcycle! Onward we go.
Cruise definitely puts in the work, the dialogue is quippy, lively, and droll, and the visuals are second to none. But it’s not all roses. Fallout suffers from the heaviest dose of sequelitis in the entire series; it is in almost every way a direct follow-on to Rogue Nation. The same villain, some similar plot points and locations, the same secondary characters — McQuarrie worked wonders with the fifth installment, but he ought to have let the acorn fall a bit further from the tree, here. The initial trailer also quite dramatically misrepresented the overall storyline in my view, which is unnecessary, distracting, and bothersome for anyone who actually paid attention. And as exciting as it is, Fallout just breezes by — it never seizes you by the throat the way, say, a Christopher Nolan film does.
Now, my own pet peeve: Tom Cruise learned to fly a helicopter for this movie, and actually piloted one of the aircraft in a dramatic chase sequence. (This was publicized months ago in a series of behind-the-scenes featurettes urgently titled “The Stunts Are Real!”). And Cruise really outdid himself this time, reaching Peak Stunt — but given the fact that he actually has about 250 helicopter flight hours under his belt I was hoping for some more authenticity in the helicopter scene. Instead, it’s dumbed down — not to the degree of the stopped-rotor loop in the A-Team, granted — but given Cruise’s honest-to-goodness command of the aircraft (!) that’s too bad.
Something similar happened with Drive: I was eagerly awaiting a true stunt-driver’s film, and instead got moping, 80s synth, and a scorpion jacket. I imagine a similar expectation/reality disconnect awaited the hordes of tweens who queued up to see Channing Tatum writhe in Magic Mike. (I enjoyed that one, mind you.)
Anyway, there’s nothing perfect in this world except a tall, cold ICEE. In light of this pure and valid truth, it’s unsurprising that Mission: Impossible – Fallout, being a movie and not an ICEE, falls somewhat short of perfection. But it’s a damn fine ride nonetheless. This is the summer, friends, and this is the movie to see.
Haus Verdict: A spirited and unrelenting action jamboree that will cram 2.5 hours of pure spectacle down your eager and open throat — should you choose, you know, to accept it.
Mission: Impossible – Fallout opens Friday, July 27.
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You mean, ICEE and He-Dogs, surely?