If I’m watching Mission: Impossible, I expect three things— Tom Cruise doing something that makes my palms sweat, Ving Rhames giving top-tier sidekick energy, and at least one moment where the laws of physics are politely ignored.
I didn’t come to Mission: Impossible - The Final Reckoning expecting existential dread, Cold War angst, or monologues about the morality of AI. I came to see Tom Cruise risk his actual life for my entertainment—again. I wanted the “hold my beer, I’m about to jump off a mountain on a motorcycle” energy. What I got instead was a movie that looked me dead in the eyes and said, “We are Very Serious Filmmakers™ now.”
This isn’t Oppenheimer. This is Mission: Impossible. We’re not here to solve the future of humanity—we're here to detonate a nuclear train while Ethan Hunt sprints in slow motion like it’s his full-time job (which, honestly, it kind of is).
The last few M:I films—Ghost Protocol, Rogue Nation, Fallout—they had vibes. The humor was snappy, the stunts were insane, and you could tell the whole cast was in on the joke. These movies were smart, sure, but they never forgot to have fun. That’s what made them special: that cheeky self-awareness. You felt like the film was winking at you every time Cruise did something legally insane. You were in on the chaos.
But The Final Reckoning took itself so seriously, it was practically brooding in a dark corner with a glass of whiskey. Half the movie felt like an AI ethics seminar. And don't get me wrong—I'm all for a little sci-fi spice in my action, but there’s a fine line between cool cyber threat and Black Mirror but with more punching, and this movie crossed it.
Even Tom Cruise, bless him, seemed like he was trying to act his way into Oscar consideration instead of sprinting his way into another Guinness World Record. The fun, the adrenaline, the playfulness—it just wasn’t there. Where was the "I can’t believe they did that" moment? Where was the gleeful absurdity that made Fallout so rewatchable?
The Mission: Impossible franchise, at its best, has always been about controlled chaos. It’s about running down the side of the Burj Khalifa, clinging to planes, jumping out of helicopters, and somehow still having time for a smirk or a clever one-liner. It’s about taking absurd risks and owning the ridiculousness. Dead Reckoning acts like it’s too mature for that now, like it grew a beard and started reading philosophy books.
If I want to feel emotionally wrecked about the future of tech and war, I’ll watch Oppenheimer or Blade Runner 2049. But if I’m watching Mission: Impossible, I expect three things—Tom Cruise doing something that makes my palms sweat, Ving Rhames giving top-tier sidekick energy, and at least one moment where the laws of physics are politely ignored. Not long conversations about algorithmic doom in dark hallways.
I’m not saying the movie is bad—it’s sleek, well-made, and still miles ahead of most action flicks out there. But man, it forgot how to have fun. And that’s the one mission it couldn’t afford to fail.
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