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Begotten of a TV show it has long since eclipsed in iconography and popularity, the Mission: Impossible film series belongs to the rarest pedigree of pop-IP remakes and adaptations. Not only more successful, longer-running, and, quite frankly, better than its source material, the franchise has also demonstrably influenced and improved the landscape of American action cinema. With the ostensible finale hitting theaters this spring in the form of The Final Reckoning, we accept this mission to celebrate a modern blockbuster staple with a weekly retrospective.
To be frank, and not even a hair melodramatic, Mission: Impossible – Fallout is one of those films that’s so good I struggle to put its accomplishments into words that would appropriately honor them or satiate me as an analyst. It’s a film so phenomenally satisfying, so finely tuned, and so technically impressive that such lofty descriptors, however true, feel only more pale and insufficient the longer I sit thinking about the film.
But my mission, which I chose to accept, was to say something meaningful about it. It’s my favorite in the series, after all, and to be honest, one of my favorite action films of all time—I owe it a debt of tribute. So, like Ethan Hunt facing down his next certifiably insane rebuke of physics and physiology in the name of saving the world, I must swallow my fears of coming up short, and simply take the leap.
Rogue Nation saw the franchise finally, truly come into its own; the combined tastes and shared relentlessness to entertain of writer-director Christopher McQuarrie and star Tom Cruise melded to create as potent a calibration of the property’s potential as any fan could ask for. That’s not to say it’s a perfect film in every way, but it felt like something truly special and unique was unlocked with the series’ fifth entry, and thankfully, the duo opted to reunite for a game of self-one-upmanship in the sixth.
McQuarrie spoke at length (no joke—like, six hours) on Empire’s Spoiler Specials podcast about the difficulty of finding the film that would become Fallout, and how much it came together on-set, on the day, and in the editing room. It’s kind of amazing to hear him talk about how apparently haphazard it all was, given how refined an experience the final product is. Honestly, if you have any interest in this franchise or even just in the nitty-gritty of the filmmaking process, I would implore you to give it a listen. (Watch the movie first.)
But it’s clear from listening to him that the reason it all worked, even if much of it was figured out on the fly, was the massive talent of everyone involved and their unwavering commitment to go the extra mile in making the best M:I film possible. Cruise’s perennial pursuit of distilling nirvana into a single in-camera action set piece tends to make all the headlines, but that same degree of passion seems to have pervaded Fallout‘s entire cast and crew: Lorne Balfe’s pulse-pounding score; cinematographer Rob Hardy’s stunningly unconventional, incandescent approach to spy-action photography; the bone-crunching overhaul to action design delivered by stunt coordinator Wade Eastwood and fight coordinator Wolfgang Stegemann; not least of all, McQuarrie’s thrilling and emotionally gratifying script.
The film is brimming with creative experimentation and a formal confidence that, for many reasons both justifiable and not, does not often occur on big-budget action productions. Fallout is not simply the biggest, craziest, most emotionally charged chapter in the broader Mission: Impossible story (though it is all of those things) — it’s also far and away the best film, by essentially any metric, ever produced under the M:I banner.
That’s a lot of words to say, “It’s really good,” but how does that actually manifest onscreen? The beauty of Fallout is that you could point to just about any single scene as a showcase of the film’s wholesale mastery of cinematic storytelling, and break it down to show its parts. But a more interesting way, to me, to find the film’s intellect and elegance is to look at the tough choices that comprise it — those made by its many contributing artists to define its language and purpose, and those made by its characters within the narrative.
Inside and out, Fallout is a film all about choices. An early monologue by Alec Baldwin’s Impossible Mission Force (IMF) Secretary Hunley highlights Ethan Hunt’s inability “to choose between one life and millions” as his secret strength. Bookending the film with observations about Ethan’s dilemmas, returning villain Solomon Lane (Sean Harris) chides Ethan during the final act over his ostensible inability to choose not to accept a mission. In the two hours between these moments, we see Ethan make one difficult decision after another, pushed by his dire circumstances to the point of seriously weighing the utilitarian value of making what he knows deep down to be the wrong choice in order to accomplish his goals.
Likewise, Ethan’s teammates face countless nexus points on their journeys, each one revolving around a hard choice. Early on, Luther (Ving Rhames) urges Ethan to let him die in order to keep a case of plutonium from entering the wrong hands; later, he violates his best friend’s secret history to lend clarity to Ilsa (Rebecca Ferguson) when she needs it. Ilsa’s entry point into the story hinges on her decision to pursue Lane at the behest of her hostile handlers at MI6, despite learning that doing so will compromise Ethan’s mission; by the third act, she has abandoned self-preservation in order aid him in undoing Lane’s schemes. Even Julia (Michelle Monaghan, returning from M:i:III) gets put in the hot seat, and she opts to buckle down and help Luther defuse an undefusable nuclear bomb, with no knowledge of how to do so. The list goes on.
The film’s very style and structure seems to mirror these trying, frightening decisions that burden our heroes. The look of the film is vastly different from any of its predecessors, opting for wider lenses in moments that should call for that tight telephoto, and warm tungsten lighting when cool fluorescence and cloud cover is the genre go-to. Balfe’s score, though soaring and rattling when it needs to be, is frequently absent during high-tension moments, allowing the diegetic soundscape and visual storytelling to work overtime for maximal immersion and impact — the greatest power in wielding a weapon being the knowledge of when not to use it.
Even the story, which McQuarrie admits evolved dramatically even after production began, seems to reject franchise tradition and the comfort of narrative convention at pivotal moments: Fallout marks the franchise’s heaviest use of “dream” sequences and unreality, as well as its most aggressive deployment of double-, triple-, even quadruple-crosses between its cast of shadowy characters and their uncertain allegiances. The plot can be somewhat difficult to keep straight, at times, with its convoluted schemes and shifting alliances weaving throughout increasingly complex and intense action sequences — but it’s also perhaps the most incidental plot in the series to date; it’s all ultimately a backdrop upon which to crack these characters open more than ever before.
These choices, both on screen and behind the scenes, define the film as a dissection of commitment and consequence. Yes, it boasts several of the coolest action sequences of any American action film ever, but amidst all that, it is a true reckoning (in everything but title) with the IMF’s mission and the team’s love for one another, and it sets itself apart from genre contemporaries by reaching outside the tried-and-true toolbox.
Like all great franchise expansions, it cuts to the core of Mission: Impossible by bucking the trend, finding the greatest truths of the series by challenging its familiar forms. Watch the film with these difficult, unconventional choices in mind, and your appreciation for it will flourish.
Fallout is everything a Mission: Impossible film — and really, any sequel — can and should be. Choose to accept it.
Mission Accepted will return each Friday leading up to our review of The Final Reckoning.
Wishes he could forego sleep to watch more movies. Besides co-hosting Odd Trilogies and writing reviews, Andy builds Gundam models, loves on his three cats, and spends way too much time managing his Plex server. You can follow his movie-watching habits on Letterboxd.