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This
Film Will Self-Destruct … MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE III: Directed by J.J. Abrams. Written Alex Kurtzman, Roberto Orci and Abrams. Cinematography by Daniel Mindel. Music by Michael Giacchino. Starring Tom Cruise, Philip Seymour Hoffman, Laurence Fishburne, Billy Crudup, Jonathan Rhys Meyers and Keri Russell. Paramount Pictures, 2006. R. 126 minutes.
Is Tom Cruise even human at this point? Does anybody care? Cruise's roles fall into two classifications: the flawed idealist of Risky Business and Jerry Maguire and the everyday hero of A Few Good Men and Minority Report. The trouble is that since 1999's Magnolia, Cruise has been working the hero trade almost exclusively, and the results are less than sympathetic. His characters resemble human beings, but they leave you feeling cold. They don't die, but they don't suffer convincingly, so I can only reach the conclusion that Tom Cruise is now a robot. Brian De Palma's 1996 Mission: Impossible was smart, sexy and bursting with veteran actors (John Voight, Jean Reno and Vanessa Redgrave, to name a few), which kept the movie from resting too squarely on Cruise's shoulders. This time around Ving Rhames returns as do those silicone masks, but in every respect this franchise belongs to Cruise. This ensures that while your feet might sweat during the occasional moment of peril, your brain will be fast asleep. In M:I III, Ethan Hunt is neither likable nor believable. Hunt is now a civilian. He drives a Volvo and claims to be a traffic engineer. Julia (Michelle Monaghan), his fiancée, is so perfect that "serious harm — apply within" should be emblazoned above her doorway. She exists primarily to be kidnapped, but fortunately she's not only a doctor, she can handle a gun like an agent. Like I said, she's perfect. Hunt, retired from field duty, trains new agents in the IM force. When one of his protégés goes missing, he's asked to come out of retirement. Via a stunningly dull monologue, we learn that the victim, Agent Lindsey Ferris (Keri Russell), was his very first trainee. Since Hunt is retired and soon to be married, it can't be an easy decision to head back into the field. Which might explain my confusion when, with no misgivings of any kind, Hunt accepts the mission. Luther Strickell (Rhames) is a welcome sight, and God knows he needs the work — I mean Rhames, not Strickell, the lovable gearhead he plays in the series. Hunt's team also includes Jonathan Rhys Meyers and Maggie Q, although their skill set is limited to looking sharp while driving. The rescue operation is a failure, which sends Hunt into full revenge mode. The object of his aggression is Owen Davian (Philip Seymour Hoffman), a businessman with links to terrorist cells. Hoffman's portrayal is an homage to Al Pacino; think long sulking fits punctuated by sudden bursts of yelling. Hoffman is a personal favorite of mine, and he has yet to be given the broad audience he deserves. But I hope never to see him so bored again. The movie turns out to be an extended primer on how to use portable explosive devices. The first and most important lesson: You can never use too many, since even the decoys have decoys in Mission: Impossible III. The movie is also a meditation on running, which Cruise does to excess throughout the film. He streaks across every frame, as if Carl Lewis is offscreen, giving chase. To be fair, the debacle that is Mission: Impossible III isn't entirely Cruise's fault. The story is one preposterous heist after another, each more statistically impossible than the last, leaving Cruise vulnerable but not necessarily to blame. When he's in hero mode, as he is here, he's like a fighter with only three moves — the cheek tic, the jaw clench and the slow head shake — and you just hope it ends as soon as possible. For his sake, of course, and for everyone else's.
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