I don’t know what Gen Z TikTok-brain trendsetter they hired to craft that abomination of an intro, but by the time the title sequence rolled, I’d developed a newfound hatred for poorly optimized IMAX films I didn’t even know I had.
Mission Impossible once again contradicts its own title by proving that, yes, it is possible—because they keep doing it. Tom Cruise flashes his age (no hate) by dodging most fight scenes in favor of a slightly sluggish right hook. And don’t think we didn’t notice that lazy “comedic” climax, where Violent Fighting Sound Effects™ play over Hayley Atwell gasping in horror at a man who’d butcher another man for her. Romantic.
The opening sequence was so disjointed, I felt like I was watching a TV recap conjured up by a sleep-deprived intern. Nothing made sense timeline-wise—were we in the past? Present? Some fever dream? Scenes teleported without explanation, the dialogue got cut mid-sentence by abrupt fade-to-blacks, and just when my brain started rebooting, they hit me with a rapid-fire montage of every previous MI film, followed by a deafening, seizure-inducing title sequence. By the end, I was convinced the CIA was testing subliminal torture techniques.
But then—miraculously—the movie smoothed out. Around the 90-minute mark, we got a glorious, dialogue-light sequence of Tom doing Tom things: Diving 300 ft into a submarine that’s been idle for years, dancing gracefully around torpedo heads, making the most insane choices you’d ever think, and making me clench my seat like a stress ball. It was pure, unfiltered Mission Impossible—until someone opened their mouth and ruined the immersion with painfully lame writing. Honestly, this film might’ve worked with less than 500 words (okay, not really, but still).
Esai Morales’ Gabriel went from “Ethan Hunt’s greatest threat” in Part One to “angry guy who missed his therapy appointment.” Every “disaster” felt hollow, a far cry from the stakes this franchise once delivered. The villain? An evil AI named “The Entity,” brainwashing the masses into a cult-like hysteria. Sound ridiculous? Sadly, believable. In an era where people can’t tell AI deepfakes from reality, and governments trip over themselves to regulate nonsense clown car type law-making, the premise wasn’t the issue—it was the lackluster execution.
The supporting cast? A mixed bag.
- Ving Rhames’ Luther delivered a heartfelt monologue that felt like a warm hug to the audience. The man is a treasure.
- The President Angela Bassett (a.k.a. Madame Badass) clearly trusted Ethan with her life almost instantly, no questions asked. Thus, we can say he is truly, a man’s man. One of the men of all time.
- Pom Klementieff lurked in the shadows, occasionally shouting Duolingo phrases at the audience. Fun, violent but forgettable minus her 5 minutes of intense and important lifesaving.
- Shea Whigham stole his 10 minutes of screen time with more character development than the entire main cast combined.
- And Rolf Saxon’s William Donloe gave us a surprisingly touching moment, trading resentment for forgiveness—a rare genuine beat in this chaos.
The film closes on a bizarre sitcom-esque shot, the team exchanging glances like they just wrapped “Friends: Spy Edition.” Tom Cruise walks off, probably mentally calculating how much he’ll make once he begins production on Mission Possible: The Return next week.
Final Verdict? A messy, overstuffed, occasionally exhilarating ride. When it leans into stunts and silence, it’s peak Mission Impossible. When it tries to explain itself, it’s a PowerPoint presentation on amphetamines. Worth it for Tom’s death-defying antics and a few standout performances—but not the send-off this franchise needed.