Well, now, isn’t this something? Who’d have thought that, 22 years after the release of the first Mission: Impossible film, we’d still be looking for Tom Cruise to come and rescue us from a summer of big-screen mediocrity?
Who’d have dared imagine that, six instalments in, the Mission: Impossible franchise might still be relevant? Not me, anyway. But here we are, struggling to make sense of a series that, against all odds, seems to improve with age. A bit like Cruise himself, eh?
It’s hardly the story that keeps things going. If you were to ask me to condense the plot of Fallout into a single sentence, I’d tell you that our old chum Ethan Hunt is tasked with locating some stolen plutonium, and spends two-and-a-half hours, travelling the world, trying to keep it out of the wrong hands. That’s it.
But these things don’t really rely on plot, do they? We have the bare minimum of scraps to keep us ticking over, and to justify the real sell, which is Tom Cruise and his buds getting themselves into all sorts of spectacular shenanigans. Cruise getting into fights in toilets. Cruise jumping over buildings in London. Cruise jumping out of airplanes. Cruise getting into scraps with helicopters. We could go on.
Does it work? Oh, you had better bloody believe it works. How so? Bold, exhilarating and crisp-clean direction, a convincing leading man, who does his own stunts, astonishingly barmy yet fully coherent set-pieces, and a fabulously-assembled cast might have something to do with it.
Indeed, with Mission: Impossible — Fallout, returning writer/director, Christopher McQuarrie, presents a phenomenally well-crafted, cinematic blockbuster that fully utilises the medium on which it’s supposed to be experienced.
It makes all the difference when Cruise high-tails it through Paris on his motorbike — chased by police, bad guys and IMF team members — because, well, this is genuinely happening; Cruise is genuinely being chased through Paris.
These are real set-pieces — CGI is kept to a minimum and the results are outstanding. Are there other film-makers who work this way? Christopher Nolan, perhaps — and there is a touch of Nolan in this here display (Lorne Balfe’s deafening score has more than a whiff of the Hans Zimmers about it, too).
Not a second of McQuarrie’s 147-minute running time is wasted. Again, the story is simple. The IMF unit, which Hunt (Cruise) continues to front, is in trouble for misplacing that aforementioned plutonium. They’re up against the clock. They’re also up against some crazy terrorists with nuclear Armageddon on their minds.
Alec Baldwin continues to give orders where they’re not needed. Angela Bassett has entered the equation as the new director of the CIA. To make matters trickier, the CIA has enlisted a moustachioed muscle man named Walker (a capable Henry Cavill), to keep an eye on Hunt, as he and his mates (Simon Pegg, Ving Rhames and the always remarkable Rebecca Ferguson) try to save the world.
Did I mention those beautifully-orchestrated action sequences? Yep, Fallout will rattle your back teeth. It boasts more ups and downs than a theme-park ride, and more deliciously staged twists and double-crossings than we have any right to expect. It may be daft, but it’s also
outrageously entertaining.
As for the man of the hour, well, I don’t know how Tom Cruise (56) is still doing this. He looks amazing. He continues to take more knocks to the noggin than Conor McGregor. He still runs faster than Usain Bolt. He still exudes more movie-star magnetism than any of his peers.
This dazzling and dizzying exhibition of breathless blockbuster magic is, perhaps, the film he was born to make. Honestly, I don’t know who’s bigger — the series, or its leading man. But they’re a match made in heaven.
This is better than Bond and Bourne. This is everything a blockbuster is supposed to be. This, folks, is the reason we still go to the cinema. See it on the biggest screen you can find.
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