‘Mission Impossible – The Final Reckoning’ Review: Tom Cruise’s Last Stand for Cinema

Tom Cruise was born to play the savior. He wears the role lightly, even gracefully. Whether it’s the fate of cinema or the world at large, there he goes — all 5’7″ of unstoppable energy, body pitched forward (or upward, or dangling upside down) and ready to do whatever the cause demands. Maybe those two causes — cinema and the world — overlap in ways that matter to him. Maybe by saving the movies, he thinks, you can save the world. Or the other way around.

Across eight films and three decades — of movies and of life, two things that for Cruise often blend into one — he’s slipped into Ethan Hunt as a way of putting his body on the line for the survival of an art form: commercial, popular, defiantly mass-appeal. Whether his character saves the world is almost beside the point. Or rather, it’s the excuse that justifies the art. What Cruise/Hunt is fighting to protect is a notion of movie spectacle that feels endangered amid so much digital fakery, so many platforms, so much ironic consumption and so many tiny screens we watch alone, listen to alone, and forget alone minutes later. If Hunt is the chosen one to save the world, Cruise has anointed himself as the savior of the movies.

The Final Reckoning is not — could not be — the single masterpiece that vindicates that mission. But as an ending, it’s a worthy attempt at tying a bow on three decades, eight films, and the work of filmmakers like Brian De Palma, John Woo, J.J. Abrams, Brad Bird, and Christopher McQuarrie, all of whom climbed aboard the train, the boat, the plane, the helicopter, and the madness of joining Cruise’s crusade: massive and deeply personal at once. It’s a movie that has to explain itself and the previous entries over and over again, one that tries to unify generations of viewers and satisfy wildly different narrative expectations. And despite its problems, its repetitions, and its difficulty achieving internal logic or coherence, this finale carries real emotion — and the sense that everyone involved fought for a just cause.

Once again, the enemy is Artificial Intelligence. As suggested in the previous installment, Dead Reckoning — which this film was originally announced as Part Two, a plan later abandoned after its modest box-office performance — some omnipotent force called The Entity threatens to seize control of the whole world, pitting nations against each other in order to rule as it pleases. That premise feels less far-fetched today than it did a few years ago, much like the surreal political tensions that have heated up in recent times. But Cruise has never had much faith in digital warfare. You have to fight this thing on the ground: hauling MacGuffins in little cases, cutting cables with seconds to spare, dodging bullets by inches, ducking explosions by half a heartbeat, plunging into the ocean and clawing your way out. The enemy may live in the cloud, but the action happens on Earth.

The film opens with a dense, overlong half-hour in which it explains — repeatedly — the nature of the threat, how it links back to earlier chapters, and what must be done to stop it. No need to rehash it all here. The mission amounts to clearing obstacles, locating submarines, assembling tiny keys, and defeating a villain played by Esai Morales, who first became famous in La Bamba nearly forty years ago. Meanwhile, governments scheme, the CIA botches everything, a parade of recognizable actors pop in for three scenes each, and ultimately the only people we can trust to stop The Entity are Hunt and his crew: the veteran Luther (Ving Rhames), Benji (Simon Pegg), new love interest Grace (Hayley Atwell, who sadly never quite reaches the heights of Michelle Monaghan or Rebecca Ferguson), and the newly arrived Paris (Pom Klementieff), a straight-up killing machine.

In terms of major set pieces, the film really has two. The first is actually several stitched together: an elaborate, interlocking sequence that unfolds largely underwater and in the snow, culminating in an outcome best left unspoiled. The final hour is dedicated almost entirely to a classic Cruise death-wish extravaganza — as seen in trailers — with him clinging to the wings of a tiny aircraft speeding low over rugged terrain. Yes, it’s full of tricks. But it’s also the kind of thing you have to see to believe. The only logical conclusion is that Tom Cruise is out of his mind. Or that he’s willing to give everything for an art form that, in his hands, has become a blend of circus act, sleight of hand, stunt show, performance, and extreme sport.

If a film that doesn’t especially aim for emotion still manages to move you, it’s because deep down you know what you’re celebrating: an endangered art, the value of teamwork, friendships tested by every imaginable disaster, and a Lalo Schifrin melody imprinted on the collective unconscious like the greatest themes by John Williams or Ennio Morricone. You get the sense Cruise knows the movie has flaws — some missing connective tissue, too many repetitions, a reliance on past glories that can’t always carry the weight. So he does what he does best: he leans a little closer to the camera, clenches his jaw, and pulls the audience in through sheer force of will. Sometimes all it takes is a body, some charisma, and passion laid bare.