A good friend of mine is full-tilt obsessed with the Mission: Impossible movies. He saw the seventh installment, Fallout, nearly ten times in theaters (by my rough estimation). He counted down the days until the eighth film, 2023’s Dead Reckoning, the way others might anticipate the awaited return of a loved one from some faraway shore. All that giddy expectation was exuberant enough to be infectious.
I felt almost guilty, then, when I saw Dead Reckoning a few weeks before he did and was a little underwhelmed. Not that the film is bad, by any means—it just doesn’t have quite the same snap and verve as superior installments like Fallout, Rogue Nation, or Ghost Protocol. Either way, my friend eventually saw the movie, loved it, and then turned his attention to Tom Cruise’s supposed last film in the series, Final Reckoning.
Watching Final Reckoning, which premiered here at the Cannes Film Festival on May 14, I was worried my reaction would once again fail my friend’s—and many others’—excitement. And for the initial stretch of Final Reckoning—directed and co-written by franchise mainstay Christopher McQuarrie—history appeared to be repeating itself. The film opens at a hurried fever pitch, stuffed with dense exposition and mighty foreboding—a far cry from the sleek fun of M:I movies past. It’s difficult to lock into, opening as it does in high-volume medias res and pleads with us to care deeply about a mystical doomsday AI that can only be stopped, of course, by super spy Ethan Hunt.
A mild panic set in, laced with disappointment, as it looked likely that one of my most-anticipated films of the summer would fall short. But these are such despairing times—so full of feelings worse than disappointment—that, sitting there in the dark, I decided to resist the resigned slump of disenchantment. As this loud and opulent film churned toward its second act, I channeled my friend’s winsome enthusiasm. What if I, like he, leaned into the ornate overwroughtness of it all, rather than pushed against it?
To my happy surprise, the perspective shift mostly worked. Sure, Final Reckoning is heavy-handed, obsessed with its own mythos. Viewed from a certain angle, though, that’s charming instead of frustrating. And anyway, haven’t Cruise and company earned that bombast after reliably purveying these elevated stunt spectaculars for nearly 30 years now? Accepting the wild ambition of Final Reckoning, embracing its maudlin amassing of all M:I lore into one turgid act of nostalgia, is the best way to enjoy it.
If that proves, uh, impossible for you, there are nonetheless two long, elaborate sequences in the film that ought to stir even the hardest of hearts. One is a deep dive into the dark, frigid waters of the North Pacific, a harrowing search for something vital in the fight against the Entity, a computer program that—like SkyNet before it—aims to wipe out humanity with nuclear fire. Almost unbearably tense and claustrophobic, this sequence stands shoulder to shoulder with any of the most magnificent set-pieces in the series, a daring and inventive wonder of suspense.
The other sequence has been heavily touted in the promotion of the film: a chase across the South African sky in brightly colored biplanes. Those aircraft are maybe not as cool as the helicopters or motorcycles of previous installments. But what Cruise, McQuarrie, and the stunt coordinators do with analog vehicles is breathtaking, a heady mix of slapstick and genuine death-defiance. This sequence is yet another testament to Cruise’s extreme conviction to the work of these films, unnerving and endearing at once.
One does long for just one more big set-piece, though. A triptych of eye-popping bravura would have tempered Final Reckoning’s many scenes of heady talk about the meaning of all this clandestine world-saving. When Final Reckoning stops to sermonize and reflect on its own legacy, which happens quite a bit, it’s hard not to get itchy for the next exciting thing to happen. But, again, if one simply gives into all that pomp and circumstance—greets it with love instead of mild annoyance—it all starts to feel pretty fun too.
Is it any more meaningful than that? Maybe sometimes. Max Aruj and Alfie Godfrey’s billowing score does a lot to sell the idea that Final Reckoning is a grand conclusion, a closing thesis statement about the higher purpose of these adventures, of Ethan’s sacrifices. McQuarrie attempts a bit of political cajoling, urging nations and peoples the world over to realize their common cause, to erase the isolating boundaries of borders and tribes and ideologies. That sort of message is appreciated in the here and now, though it is grimly funny that, when the rubber really meets the road, it’s the Americans who come through on behalf of all humanity. Highly improbable, that.
If this is indeed the end of Cruise’s globetrotting and derring-do, Final Reckoning is a worthy send-off. It may not quite reach the vertiginous peaks of the series at its finest, but it scrapes fingers with greatness. The navel-gazing sentiment does, in the end, feel earned. Or, at least, plays as entirely forgivable indulgence after so much risk to life, limb, and studio bottom lines. I hope my friend loves it. I hope you do, too.
This story is part of Awards Insider’s in-depth Cannes coverage, including first looks and exclusive interviews with some of the event’s biggest names. Stay tuned for more Cannes stories as well as a special full week of Little Gold Men podcast episodes, recorded live from the festival and publishing every day.
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