retro movie review: Mission: Impossible

With the next installment of the Mission: Impossible film series slated to be released next year and Tom Cruise still going strong in the "action hero" stage of his career (an increasingly standard phase in any male movie star's career, it seems), it's almost hard to believe that the first Mission Impossible movie came out 18 years ago.

I remember when Paramount Pictures first announced that they would be adapting the old 1960s TV series into a major motion picture. With the project still in the earliest stages of development -- the only decided detail at the time was that Cruise would star -- the editors of Entertainment Weekly, apparently fans of the old series, excitedly speculated how many cast members of the TV show would reprise their roles.

The ultimate answer: none.

This is a shame, because although the transition from low-budget 60s TV show to big-budget 90s action movie seemed like a major revision at the time, in retrospect, especially compared to its sequels, the first Mission Impossible movie does indeed owe a lot to its predecessor.

The movie stars Cruise as Ethan Hunt, a secret agent working for the fictional American agency I.M.F. (a sub-agency of the C.I.A.). In the movie's first act, Ethan and his fellow IMF agents are on a seemingly routine mission when suddenly everything starts going wrong, and Ethan is horrified to see his colleagues and friends die one by one. Things get only worse when Ethan tries to report in to the home office, and learns that he's been framed as the culprit. The rest of the movie is about Ethan's efforts to prove his innocence and find out who's really responsible for betraying his team.

But let's not get ahead of ourselves here, because those early scenes with Ethan's original teammates are entirely essential to understanding the movie, and not just on a story level.

Producers Cruise and Paula Wagner were very public about wanting the original cast to reprise their roles, and with some of them on the downturn of their careers, their return seemed like a no-brainer. But if they wanted the original cast to return -- and there is every indication that this was a sincere desire on the producers' parts -- the makers of the film made two huge tactical mistakes: First, as originally conceived, it was the 60s IMF characters who were supposed to be killed off in the first act, offending some of the 60s stars, like Martin Landau. In a way, the killing makes dramatic sense on a couple of levels: There is, of course, the shock value of seeing the beloved established characters die. And killing off the old guys does give a narrative excuse to clear the way for Ethan to recruit new colleagues for the adventures that follow. But Landau and the others objected to the fact that they were so central to the show's success, and then being brought back for mere cameos, in a manner guaranteed to prevent future appearances in any potential follow-ups.

The one original TV character who has a sizable role in the story is Jim Phelps, originally played by Peter Graves. But this leads to the filmmakers' second mistake (major SPOILER alert, in the unlikely chance that you haven't seen the movie yet), offending Graves by turning Mr. Phelps into the bad guy.

Okay, but that's all just production back-story. What about the movie itself? Well, as I said earlier, there's a lot of the spirit of the old series in the first Mission Impossible movie, especially in the early scenes. From the familiar "good evening, Mr. Phelps" introduction to the IMF teams' mission, to the now-iconic "this message will self-destruct" warning, to the scene in which Phelps outlines exactly how the team will go about accomplishing its assigned mission, the movie gets both the detail and feel of every aspect of the old TV show just right. Director Brian DePalma even remembers and emulates the detail that the original series' opening credits sequence would always show fast snippets of the mission about to come.

Although I empathize with why the original cast chose not to return only to be killed off in the first act, I repeat that it's a shame that they didn't, because the filmmakers were right: it would have been cool to see the original characters come back for one more swan song, and it also would have made the "all the IMF agents are getting killed!" sequence much more emotionally powerful.*

That being said, it's still pretty well done, with Cruise, his co-stars, and their writers expertly using a limited amount of time to establish a camaraderie between Ethan and his colleagues; it's clear that these people aren't just co-workers, they're also friends. An unbilled Emilio Estevez is especially good in this sequence, and the way his Jim Harmon pals around with Ethan, you really do get the feeling that they are nearly as close as brothers, without the sentiment ever being explicitly stated.

Then, all hell breaks loose, leading to a series of high-octane action sequences. Landau was write to observe that this was not what the TV show was about, but listen to his description of the original show: "Mission was a mind game. The ideal mission was getting in and getting out without anyone ever knowing we were there."

That's a pretty accurate description of the original series, but Landau is flat-out wrong in describing this as a difference between the show and the film, because, if anything, this is precisely the aspect of the show that the movie succeeds in emulating. Yes, there are more chases, explosions, and fight scenes than in a typical TV episode. This is, after all, an action movie. But those scenes serve as nothing more than a spice in the recipe. Much of the fun of the movie is watching Ethan and his colleagues use their ingenuity and skills to sneak in and out of places, to trick bad guys into doing things they would normally never do, and to perform some good-old-fashioned detective work. Fans of the original show should be crying out in delight, "Yes! That's exactly what the old show was all about!" Even the arguably silly latex disguise masks Ethan uses in the movie seem to be a logical extension of the elaborate costumes originally worn by Rollin Hand and Paris the Great (played by, respectively, Martin Landau and Leonard Nimoy in the original TV show).

The later sequels would keep some aspects of this general idea, but completely abandon any attempt to maintain the tone of the original series. In Landau's words -- misapplied to the first film, but an appropriate description of the sequels -- "the whole texture changed." This is not a condemnation of the film series, mind you, just an observation on the change in tone. Aside from the theme music and the self-destructing mission tapes, Mission Impossible parts 2 through 4 bear absolutely no resemblance to the old series. They are their own animals, and make no apologies for it. Personally, I hated part 2 and enjoyed parts 3 and 4, but that's all beside the point.

Wait, what is the point? Simply this: Mission Impossible is a good movie, partially because it succeeds on two entirely separate levels. Yes, it is an action vehicle for Tom Cruise, and as an action movie, it delivers the goods. But, despite the understandable objections of the original cast members, the movie also holds up as a worthy homage to the TV series.

*side-note: Although I still maintain that the best possible scenario for these early scenes would have been to reunite the TV cast, seeing Cruise and Emilio Estevez side-by-side for the first time since 1983's The Outsiders always made me think that a really cool alternative would have been to populate Ethan's first IMF team entirely of former Brat Packers. Hey, they got Estevez, how hard would it have really been for them to get Ally Sheedy and Molly Ringwald? I'm thinking they would have jumped at the chance.

Gone Girl/ Left Behind

Gone Girl

I've read some pretty awful reviews of Gone Girl, and the only positive review was from a critic who chose to interpret it with irony, as in, "this isn't a bad movie, but it is about bad movies." Uh huh.

Let me tell you, I enjoyed most of Gone Girl, and the parts that I didn't enjoy, I mostly admired on a story-telling level. Yes, it is flawed, but if you've been reading the reviews, let me assure you that Gone Girl isn't nearly as flawed as you've been led to believe. While other critics are, of course, allowed to differ with me over matters of opinion, it would be a mistake to accept the idea that "all opinions are equally valid" as an axiom.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Gone Girl tells the story of Nick Dunne (Ben Affleck), a man with a troubled marriage, who returns home one day to find his wife missing and signs of struggle in the living room.  He calls the police, and two detectives arrive. Detective Rhonda Boney (Kim Dickens) is the more open-minded of the two, while her partner, Officer Jim "Gil" Gilpin (Patrick Fugit), immediately suspects Nick of foul play, and proceeds to interpret everything he sees as evidence of Nick's alleged guilt. Sometimes he's right that it looks bad. Sometimes he's wrong. Either way, I enjoyed the interplay between Gil and Rhonda.

Gone Girl is a little about the investigation of Mrs. Dunne's disappearance, but it's mostly about how the media, and the general public, first support Nick in his time of need, but then turn on him with an almost eager vengeance once suspicion starts to turn against him.

Now, here's why I encourage you to dismiss a lot of the negative reviews of this movie: Most critics describe this movie as a "did he or didn't he" mystery, which first makes you believe that Nick's innocent, then makes you suspect he's guilty, and back and forth and back and forth. But, and considering how early this occurs in the movie, I don't consider this a spoiler, there's a scene very early in the film which very clearly establishes that Nick didn't kill his wife. We see him come home, discover the broken coffee table, and call out for his wife, looking for her. It's not like this is ambiguous. There's no one else present in the scene, so he can't be accused of faking his concern and confusion. Nor is it a case of "oh, well the movie leaves for the possibility that Nick's an unreliable narrator," as some reviews have claimed. He's not a narrator. It's not like we're watching a visualization of Nick telling some cop, "so then I came home and this is what happened." We're watching what is presumed to be an objective third-person account of what happened when Nick came home.

So that leads me to this: If critics either didn't understand or somehow completely missed this scene and its significance, their opinion isn't exactly an informed one. Yes, there is room for all opinions, and just because I liked it doesn't mean that the people who didn't like it are necessarily "wrong." But if I'm listening to two guys talk about a movie, and one guy says he liked it and watched it start to finish, and another guy says he hated it but then admits he wasn't really paying attention, I think we can all agree on which of the two guys I should give more credence.

I'd also like to address one ridiculous accusation I've repeatedly encountered while reading reviews of Gone Girl. The movie is, despite what some people are saying, not misogynistic. This is a movie that, like most, has good guys and bad guys, but unlike most, also features sympathetic characters who make unquestionably poor moral judgments, and even a would-be villain who seems to truly want to be the hero of the story.

One of the more disturbed and disturbing characters is female. I wonder, why is it that nearly every Hollywood action blockbuster can feature male villains of the utmost cruelty and evil, but make a villain female and all of a sudden the movie is "misogynistic"? To all the would-be feminist critics out there, I say, "get a grip, and learn what equality really is."

Yes, the movie is flawed, and I agree with one of the flaws that I've read repeatedly: The dialogue is awkward. I agree that no one really talks like Amy and Nick do in the flashback scenes that depict their romance (and, tellingly, only these scenes). You know those classical Hollywood romantic comedies, in which the man and woman talk to each other in a way that hints they're both just a little too clever and sophisticated to be wholly believable as real people? Well, there's a reason for that, because Depression and World War II audiences wanted escapism, not realism. Take that same style of romantic not-quite-funny, not-quite-serious wordplay, add R-rated topics and diction, and plug it all into a gritty "real world" story, and the artifice is a bit more jarring.

I suppose it's possible that, considering that the flashbacks are courtesy of Amy's diary entries, writer Gillian Flynn is trying to use the awkward dialogue to communicate a skewed point of view, but if that's the case (a possibility that apparently hasn't even occurred to the other critics), I admit it just doesn't work.

Also, the movie is a bit long. Just a shade under two and a half hours, Gone Girl could have benefitted from a bit of trimming. I was enjoying the movie, but even I eventually started to wonder, "this is going to end soon, right?" I can think of one sequence in particular that went on longer than necessary, but I digress . . . 

Look, Gone Girl is a murder mystery, and it is quite frank about both sex and violence. If you are squeamish about such things, this is something to keep in mind. And as I said, there are certain scenes that, admittedly, have some less-than-stellar dialogue. But I thought Gone Girl was a well-structured mystery, with some important social criticism in the narrative as well. I'd count that as a recommendation. A qualified recommendation, but yes, a recommendation.

Left Behind

Left Behind is the second cinematic adaptation of Tim LaHaye and Jerry B. Jenkins's (in)famous novel about the Rapture, or the beginning of the End of the World. Considering its fundamentalist origins, the movie is not nearly as preachy as you might expect (which is not to say that it isn't preachy at all). In an early scene, we are even encouraged to side with the more sympathetic, "normal," non-believers when they are accosted by a "wacko" believer in an airport.

The movie stars Nicolas Cage as Captain Rayford "Ray" Steele, a commercial jet pilot who is not a bad guy, but neither is he the best father or husband, either. In fact, he's unfaithful, although the movie, surprisingly (again considering the source), depicts his infidelity with a degree of sympathy and understanding, as his wife's sudden conversion to Christian fundamentalism has driven away both him and their daughter, Chloe. Ray tries to be patient and understanding with his wife, but he just can't deal with the constant preaching at home. Nor can his daughter, who returns home for Ray's would-be surprise birthday party, only to learn that Ray is getting out of town with his new lover. Chloe's disappointed with Ray's timing, but seems understanding about the affair.

But lo and behold, all of the preaching by the "wacko" wife and mother (Lea Thompson) turns out to be right when the Rapture suddenly begins, and millions of people -- namely children and people of "righteous" minds and hearts -- suddenly vanish. They vanish so completely and so suddenly that even their clothes are . . . get ready for it . . . left behind.

I am mostly unfamiliar with the book and original movie version of this same story, but from what I understand, the book, at least, follows several different storylines. This version, however, divides itself between only two stories, following Chloe's search for her missing brother (she only gradually learns that millions of other people have vanished as well) and Ray's attempt to pilot his plane safely to its destination despite panicky passengers and a complete lack of control tower personnel. (I guess that, according to this movie's system of beliefs, air traffic controllers are particularly worthy of Heaven and thus ripe for the Rapture, as only one guy remains, and he soon disappears as well.)

As I said, the movie is not nearly as preachy as one might assume. The airplane passengers don't leap to the Rapture as a conclusion, and consider other possibilities for the mysterious disappearances as well. The acting is a little uneven, most of it good enough, but with a few minor roles going to actors whose performances aren't terrible, but might raise an eyebrow or two. The special effects are also uneven, with one particularly unforgivable mistake ("unforgivable" because it could, and should have been edited out) but mostly competent.

Who is this movie aimed for? Fans of the previous two versions would probably like it, for personal spiritual reasons. Nicolas Cage fans will probably enjoy it too. That's two very different fan bases. And the climax of the story would feel right at home in a good ol' action-adventure flick. I enjoyed the movie for the most part. But even though I stand by my earlier comment -- not as preachy as it might have been -- I still hesitate to recommend any film with a spiritual message at the end. It's not about whether I agree or disagree with the message, but perhaps the very idea of a movie with a political or religious agenda that makes me uncomfortable. What do I do? Recommend the movie for Christians only? Or base my recommendation purely on the entertainment value alone? I'll lean that way and say watch the movie. Like Gone Girl, it's generally good despite a few flaws.