Mission Impossible: The Final Reckoning — An insufferable ego trip

Mission Impossible: The Final Reckoning (2025) • View trailer

Two stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for strong violence, dramatic intensity and fleeting profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 5.25.25

Vanity, thy name is Tom Cruise.

 

It has become increasingly obvious — ever since the Burj Khalifa climbing sequence in 2011’s masterfully entertaining Ghost Protocol revived the series — that Cruise’s increasingly flamboyant stunt sequences were becoming the tail that wagged the dog.

 

Upon reaching the entrance to a huge underground server farm, Ethan (Tom Cruise,
center) and his comrades — from left, Paris (Pom Klementief), Degas (Greg Tarzan
Davis), Benji (Simon Pegg) and Grace (Hayley Atwell) — find the place curiously quiet.

The Final Reckoning brings this trend to its inevitable, lamentable conclusion. 

All tail, and no dog.

 

This slog is overcooked and overlong, its incomprehensible, so-called “plot” no more than techno-babble dialogue interludes between Cruise’s determination to prove that he “can too still do this stuff” in his 60s, in an escalating series of laughably ludicrous action sequences that are leagues beyond any viewer’s willingness to accept.

 

The Christopher McQuarrie/Erik Jendresen narrative doesn’t merely stretch credibility beyond the breaking point; it makes no effort to feign any level of credibility.

 

“This new movie is a gargantuan accomplishment,” Cruise boasts, in the production notes. “Very elegant, very layered and incredibly epic.”

 

Elegant? In your dreams, Tommy.

 

This is what happens, when unchecked ego calls the shots.

 

I worried, when 2023’s Dead Reckoning concluded, that McQuarrie and Jendresen had written themselves into an irresolvable corner, with their all-powerful AI “Entity” poised to infiltrate and corrupt every aspect of world-wide civilized society.

 

As this film opens, that worst nightmare has come to pass. The Entity’s “deep fakes” have obliterated world-wide public trust in all news sources, politicians and government officials. People riot in the streets of every country’s major city; violence and anarchy are the order of the day.

 

Worse yet, The Entity has seized control of five of the world’s nine nuclear missile stockpiles, and is doing its best to break into the remaining four ... one of which is our good ol’ USofA, which it’s certain to absorb within three days.

 

(Why three days? Who could know such a thing, with such precision? Don’t ask.)

 

Impressionable, cultish “true believers” eagerly hope The Entity will destroy everything, in order to create some ill-conceived new world order. (Like there’s life after nuclear annihilation???)

 

There’s simply no coming back from the doomsday scenario depicted in this film’s first 10 minutes ... despite the fact that — somehow — Ethan Hunt (Cruise) and his Impossible Missions Force team will save the world, because The Script Says So.

 

Ergo, Cruise and McQuarrie — who also directs this film, as he has the previous three — rely entirely on breakneck momentum, to lurch from one preposterous action sequence to the next, rather than even attempting to develop genuine suspense with a reasonably crafted linear narrative.

 

The result is an insufferably loud barrage of soulless visual cacophony: an unforgivably protracted, boring, senses-shattering 169 minutes of mayhem.

The Imaginary: Sweet, but slightly flawed

The Imaginary (2023) • View trailer

3.5 stars (out of five). Rated PG, for scary images and dramatic intensity

Available via: Netflix

By Derrick Bang

Despite its often melancholy tone, director Yoshiyuki Momose’s wildly colorful film is a heartfelt valentine to children and their imaginary friends.

 

Amanda and her "imaginary friend," Rudger, enjoy wonderfully colorful adventures
limited solely by what she dreams up.

This is the third film from Tokyo’s Studio Ponoc, founded in 2015 by Yoshiaki Nishimura, former lead producer of Hayao Miyazaki’s Studio Ghibli. The Imaginary follows 2017’s Mary and the Witch’s Flower and 2018’s Modest Heroes, all three boasting the colorfully lush, hand-drawn animation that has long been a hallmark of Studio Ghibli.

And, just as Studio Ghibli dipped into British children’s literature with 2010’s The Secret World of Arrietty — based on Mary Norton’s beloved 1952 novel, The Borrowers — Momose and screenwriter Yoshiaki Nishimura have adapted A.F. Harrold’s popular 2014 British children’s novel, with illustrations by Emily Gravett.

 

That said, Momose does his film no favors with a chaotic prologue likely to overwhelm viewers ... and perhaps even put them off. (Grit your teeth and hang on for five minutes, at which point things will make sense.)

 

Young Amanda (voiced in the American edition by Evie Kiszel) and her mother, Lizzie (Hayley Atwell) live above the Shuffleup Book Shop, a charming little store her parents established in an unspecified English country village. But Lizzie hasn’t been able to make ends meet since her husband’s recent death; job interviews haven’t been promising, and the shop is days from closing.

 

Her father’s absence explains Amanda’s creation of Rudger (Louie Rudge-Buchanan) — please, never “Roger” — an imaginary friend who proudly boasts that he was born “three months, three weeks and three days ago.”  Thanks to an active imagination fueled by the contents of her marvelous attic bedroom — a retreat most of us would have hungered for, at a similar age — Amanda and Rudger share all manner of exciting, colorful and just-dangerous-enough-to-be-thrilling adventures.

 

Rudger is completely real to her, which — and this is the story’s core point — makes him real, although he can be seen only by Amanda. During their flamboyant exploits, all of them opulently realized by Momose and his talented animators, the two frequently chant a mantra:

 

“Whatever happens, never disappear ... protect each other ... and never cry.”

Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning, Part 1 — A helluva ride

Mission Impossible: Dead Reckoning, Part 1 (2023) • View trailer

Five stars (out of five). Rated PG-13, for intense action and violence, and occasional profanity

Available via: Movie theaters

By Derrick Bang • Published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.14.23

There’s simply no excuse for a film that runs 163 minutes…

 

…unless it holds our attention the entire time.

 

Unlike half a dozen recent examples of self-indulgent tedium, this one delivers.

 

After being chased halfway around the globe, Ethan (Tom Cruise) and Grace (Hayley
Atwell) abruptly find that their carefully planned undercover operation aboard the
Orient Express has taken an unexpected turn.

The newest installment in this venerable franchise has it all: well-sculpted characters, a truly terrifying villain, a couple of lethal sub-baddies, jaw-dropping action sequences, and a twisty plot courtesy of director/co-scripter Christopher McQuarrie (who, it should be remembered, won an Academy Award for writing 1996’s The Usual Suspects).

Mention also must be made of the frequent dollops of welcome humor, intercut with bits of unexpected pathos.

 

Oh, and running. Showing off his sprinting prowess has long been a Tom Cruise signature, and he gets a lotta mileage outta that here.

 

He simply refuses to go gently into the quieter phase of less hectic film roles. More power to him.

 

Cruise’s Ethan Hunt — introduced back in 1996; can you believe it? — is once again joined by his faithful Scooby Gang members: analyst Benji Dunn (Simon Pegg), sniper/close combat expert Ilsa Faust (Rebecca Ferguson) and legendary hacker/tech genius Luther Stickell (Ving Rhames).

 

On the adversarial side, a figure from Ethan’s long-ago, pre-IMF past: Gabriel (Esai Morales), a stone-cold sociopath who enjoys killing people while their loved ones watch. He’s assisted by the ruthless, relentless Paris (Pom Klementieff), a grinning danger junkie who gets off on hurting people.

 

Happy surprises include Eugene Kittridge (Henry Czerny), resurrected from this franchise’s 1996 debut, when he was a mere government wonk; he has risen to become the CIA director who sends Ethan on his impossible missions, via an old-school cassette tape that self-destructs in 5 seconds. Cary Elwes joins the crew as Denlinger, director of National Intelligence, and — in an amusing early scene — the only person who literally has no idea what the IMF is.

 

This mission’s threat is ripped right out of today’s unsettling headlines: an artificial intelligence program that has infiltrated all world-wide, Internet-linked communications systems. Known obliquely as “The Entity,” it has developed enough semi-sentience to understand how to manipulate information and events by means both random and calculated.

 

Imagine — as one character explains, early on — a world where online newspaper headlines cannot be trusted; where email communication can be “spoofed” well enough to fool recipients; where nuclear command codes can be changed and then activated; and where even voices can be imitated, so that one never knows who’s on the other side of a cell phone call.

 

Scary stuff.

Blinded by the Light: Incandescent!

Blinded by the Light (2019) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated PG-13, for dramatic intensity and vulgar racism
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 8.16.19

Music doesn't merely hath charms to soothe the savage breast; it can transform lives.

Writer/director Gurinder Chadha has been absent from our screens for far too long, after enchanting filmgoers with Bend It Like Beckham and Bride & Prejudice, back in the early 2000s. She has remained busy, but her intervening projects haven’t resonated nearly as much (at least, not here in the States).

Determined to share his newly discovered affection for Bruce Springsteen's inspirational
lyrics, Javed (Viveik Kalra) drags a surprised — but definitely pleased — Eliza
(Nell Williams) into a spontaneous dance.

She’s back with a vengeance, thanks to Blinded by the Light.

Pop/rock music fans have enjoyed an embarrassment of riches, of late; we’ve viewed the world — and enjoyed tuneful biographies — according to Queen (Bohemian Rhapsody), Elton John (Rocket Man) and The Beatles (Yesterday). Now Chadha — with a scripting assist from Paul Mayeda Berges and Sarfraz Manzoor — has put Bruce Springsteen’s poetic, working-man angst to similar magical use, with “Blinded by the Light.”

The result is charming, exhilarating and illuminating by turns, along with a perceptive nod toward current real-world events: in every respect, one of the summer film season’s sweetest surprises. That it’s based on actual events — Manzoor’s absorbing 2008 memoir, Greetings from Bury Park: Race, Religion and Rock ’n’ Roll — is the icing on the cake.

The setting is Luton, England, in 1987: the height of Margaret Thatcher’s reign, with millions of people out of work, many of whom — believing “foreigners” have taken their jobs — have joined increasingly aggressive “Make England White Again” marches. (Sound familiar?)

Javed (Viveik Kalra), a teen of Pakistani descent, has lived in Luton since his father Malik (Kulvinder Ghir) moved the family to England years ago. Malik is bluntly imperious in his traditional views; he’s therefore a stern roadblock to any semblance of Westernized behavior that might tempt Javed and his sister, Shazia (Nikita Mehta). 

Which is a problem, because Javed is forced to conceal his artistic tendencies; he has recorded his thoughts and dreams in daily journals since childhood, and also composes poetry. Some of the latter find an outlet as lyrics for songs written and performed by a garage band headed by longtime best friend and neighbor Matt (Dean-Charles Chapman).

Matt also has been a staunch defender against the racial taunts — and worse — abusively hurled in Javed’s direction.

The film opens just as Javed begins his first year at the local sixth-form college, where he’s determined to pass his A-levels in order to qualify for university: somewhere (anywhere!) other than Luton. His father tolerates this only with the expectation that Javed studies medicine, law, business or something else that guarantees a high-income job.

Meanwhile, entering a new school is fraught with the usual peril, amplified because Javed a) looks foreign; and b) is slight of build and easily intimidated.

Christopher Robin: Endearing, but uneven

Christopher Robin (2018) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated PG-13, for no particular reason
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 8.3.18

I’ve long regarded title credits as a strong indication of quality; a director who cares enough to insist upon clever, stylish or (in some manner) unusual credits, generally can be counted upon to give his film the same attention to detail.

Desperate to prevent passersby from realizing that Pooh is a stuffed bear who nonetheless
walks and talks, Christopher (Ewan McGregor) begs his childhood friend to "play taking
a nap."

In that respect, then, director Marc Forster’s Christopher Robin begins auspiciously. An extended prolog is lovingly and warmly animated from the E.H. Shepard illustrations in A.A. Milne’s original Winnie the Pooh books; the sequence also incorporates flipped pages laden with the correct type font. In all respects, it’s like we viewers jump into the book itself and become part of what follows, much in the manner of Jasper Fforde’s delightful Thursday Next novels.

This lengthy, period-appropriate introduction also establishes the firm bond between young Christopher Robin (Orton O’Brien) and his half-dozen plush animal friends, all seemingly hand-stitched, as if by some doting parent. They’ve organized a party in the Hundred Acre Wood, but the occasion is somber: Christopher Robin is heading off to boarding school. The mood is pure “Puff, the Magic Dragon.”

These sweetly animated characters are voiced sublimely, their note-perfect dialog — here, and throughout the entire film — impeccably crafted to match Milne’s blend of innocence and gentle playfulness (with numerous quotes lifted directly from the page). We can’t help being both charmed and saddened; the sweet sorrow of this impending parting is almost more than can be withstood.

Then the movie proper kicks in, and the mood is ... well, badly compromised, if not completely shattered.

The script — credited, with eyebrow-raising concern, to five different hands — is a patchwork mess stitched together with far less care than that given to its animated stars. The plot is a clumsy mash-up of Steven Spielberg’s Hook and Disney’s Mary Poppins — both centering around an adult who has lost track of his childhood sense of wonder — blended with numerous un-subtle nods to the three Disney Winnie the Pooh cartoon shorts produced between 1966 and ’74.

To make matters even worse, this film’s (mostly) soothing tone often is marred by the destructive slapstick sequences that infected so many of Disney’s insufferably stupid late 1960s and early ’70s live-action comedies. The sudden shift in tone can cause whiplash.

In a nutshell, these characters — human and otherwise — are far better than the derivative, wafer-thin and disappointing story into which they’ve been dumped.

Cinderella: Dreams do come true

Cinderella (2015) • View trailer 
3.5 stars. Rated PG, for mild dramatic tension
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 3.13.15

Doubts notwithstanding — and I had plenty — Disney has done a respectable job, with this live-action update of its own 1950 animated classic.

Ella (Lily James, left), surprised to learn that invitations to the upcoming palace ball will be
extended to every maiden in the realm, wonders how she might escape her stepmother's
clutches, in order to attend. For their part, stepsisters Drisella (Sophie McShera, center)
and Anastasia (Holliday Grainger) immediately vow to win the prince's hand in marriage.

Kenneth Branagh’s presence in the director’s chair certainly helps; it stands to reason that the Irish Renaissance man who brought Shakespearean regality to 2011’s Thor could grant (let’s be candid) a fairy-tale trifle with the same degree of dramatic heft.

In lesser hands, Thor could have sunk beneath the weight of its laughably pompous dialogue and overwrought premise ... but no, Branagh gave it class. He does the same here, with this fresh interpretation of Cinderella.

To be sure, he had able assistance, starting with a solid script from writer/director Chris Weitz, still best known for his 2002 adaptation of Nick Hornby’s About a Boy. Weitz’s take on Cinderella is a little bit Grimm (as in Brothers) and a little bit Disney, with a soupçon of modern feminist sparkle. The resulting narrative is appropriately cheerful, poignant, bleak and swooningly romantic, as needs must.

With respect to the latter, wait until you catch Cinderella’s arrival at the Prince’s ball: Rarely has a character been afforded so splendid an entrance, and rarely has a director milked a scene with such unapologetic oomph.

Which brings us to this film’s young star: Lily James, who makes a flawless Cinderella. She’s eminently believable as an unassuming country lass, albeit one who’s well-read and possesses the perceptive wit of a Jane Austen heroine. At the same time, James “cleans up” marvelously, when a bit of Fairy Godmothering transforms ash-begrimed Cinder-Ella into a breathtaking vision who transfixes all in her presence.

James has a natural ingenuousness that Branagh employs to full effect: the sort of sweet sincerity that Christopher Reeve brought to Superman, when he spoke of fighting for “truth, justice and the American way.” Nobody laughed when Reeve delivered that iconic line; well, nobody laughs here either, when James’ Ella — recalling a promise made years back, to her mother — resolutely insists on facing the world with “courage ... and kindness.”

Pronounced just like that, with a slight pause between the two attributes. Again, the sort of statement that, if delivered even the slightest bit wrong, would prompt snickers from our oh-so-sophisticated 21st century audiences.

Trust me: No laughter erupted during Monday evening’s preview screening (at least, not at that particular moment). Indeed, the audience lapped it up. It would appear that Disney’s current run of “princess power” has yet to subside.

Captain America — The Winter Soldier: Another Marvel-ous hit!

Captain America: The Winter Soldier (2014) • View trailer 
Four stars. Rated PG-13, for intense action violence
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 4.4.14

This one’s a lot more thought-provoking that I was expecting.

Confronting an enemy strong enough to catch his shield — and hurl it back, with deadly
force — Captain America (Chris Evans) and the Black Widow (Scarlett Johansson)
consider their rapidly dwindling options. Much as they hate to admit it, retreat might be
the better part of valor...

It’s safe to acknowledge, after so many rip-snorting predecessors involving so many characters — whether individually, or in groups — that Marvel Studios has the formula down to a science. Captain America’s second solo outing once more offers a welcome blend of familiar faces, superbly choreographed action scenes and just enough witty banter to prevent things from getting too grim.

Rest assured: No sophomore slump here.

And, yes, Marvel’s production team continues to navigate the all-essential fine line: offering insider nods to fans who’ve read these comic books for decades, while nonetheless ensuring that newcomers won’t be left out. That’s a remarkable feat by itself; still more impressive is the degree to which all of these films, this one included, continue to build on an ever-expanding tapestry that now includes a weekly TV series.

All well and good, and guaranteed to result in a crowd-pleasing popcorn flick.

But scripters Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely make this film much more than a popcorn flick, thanks to a deeply unsettling plot that’s ripped from today’s paranoia-laden headlines. It’s a very clever touch, because Cap — Steve Rogers — is precisely the right character to confront this crisis.

It’s not easy, in our increasingly cynical times, to work with a character whose moral compass feels too good to be true. Putting such an individual on the big screen is even more difficult, demanding a perfect marriage of talent and material. Christopher Reeve’s Superman was just such an iconic good guy: a genuinely virtuous hero who could speak of “truth, justice and the American way” without prompting snickers from the audience.

Chris Evans makes Steve Rogers just as true-blue, with just the right balance between old-fashioned ethics and resourceful savvy. We must recall that he’s a man out of time: a World War II hero who — in his previous film — sacrificed himself for what he believed would be certain death, but instead wound up in suspended animation, revived decades later in our modern era.

Fish-out-of-water stories, when done correctly, can’t help being entertaining. Markus, McFeely and co-directors Anthony and Joe Russo do it correctly.

Captain America: Gung-ho glory

Captain America: The First Avenger (2011) • View trailer
Four stars. Rating: PG-13, and perhaps too harshly, for sci-fi violence and action
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 7.22.11


We're in good hands with this fellow.

And I don't mean Captain America, although he also has our backs. I'm referring to director Joe Johnston, who has the perfect touch for this sort of material: precisely the proper blend of dramatic heft, low-key humor and well-choreographed action scenes.

Steve Rogers (Chris Evans, center), having seized an opportunity to lead a
rescue mission deemed impossible by his superior officer, discovers that his
silly, USO-show costume might serve an important symbolic purpose after all.

Johnston understands the balance necessary for us to buy into fantasy, and he also sets a mean period stage; we always feel part of whatever era and locale his projects exploit. And he clearly has a fondness for retro superhero sagas, having delivered an impressively authentic and entertaining — and sadly undervalued — adaptation of The Rocketeer, back in 1991.

But Johnston is equally at home with the fully grounded and more gently emotional requirements of an intimate character drama such as 1999's October Sky, or the all-stops-out roller coaster ride found in 2001's Jurassic Park 3. The latter may have been formulaic and a shadow of its predecessors, but somebody had to step into Steven Spielberg's shoes ... and, to his credit, Johnston made sure his continuation wasn't a pale shadow.

And since I'm waxing poetic about Johnston's earlier accomplishments, let me also praise 2004's thoroughly engrossing horse-racing saga, Hidalgo ... which also never found its audience. Some directors just can't catch a break.

But Johnston certainly snatched the gold ring this time. Armed with a pitch-perfect script — Christopher Markus and Stephen McFeely, take a bow — and a skilled ensemble cast, Johnston has delivered a well-told fantasy saga that feels as innocently high-spirited and pridefully patriotic as America itself, during the turbulent days of World War II.

At the same time, Johnston fulfills the genre requirements expected by the Marvel Comics geeks who always sharpen their blogging knives, in anticipation of disrespectful or otherwise inferior big-screen adaptations. Markus and McFeely know their stuff, and they've managed the quite impressive task of nailing this patriotic symbol of two eras. Bear in mind that Cap, although still a stalwart of contemporary comics fiction, emerged as a red, white and blue avenger in the 1940s ... and yet hasn't aged.

Ah, therein lies a tale...

Which I'll not spoil.

Following a suitably intriguing prologue, we meet scrawny Steve Rogers (Chris Evans): the epitome of a 98-pound Brooklyn weakling, but no less determined to sign up for his chance to help end Hitler's Nazi reign. But no recruiting office wants an undersize mutt who also suffers from asthma and a dozen other physical issues, and Steve should know; he has tried every "Uncle Sam wants you" station within easy travel, using a variety of aliases.

Brideshead Revisited: Too brief a visit

Brideshead Revisited (2008) • View trailer for Pineapple Express
Three stars (out of five). Rating: PG-13, for chaste nudity and some sensuality
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 8.8.08
Buy DVD: Brideshead Revisited • Buy Blu-Ray: Brideshead Revisited (2008) [Blu-ray]


Much as I wanted director Julian Jarrold's handling of Evelyn Waugh's Brideshead Revisited to stand on its own merits, this big-screen adaptation pales when compared to 1981's 11-hour British miniseries, which became such a must-see event for so many fans.

Although he has been brought to the Brideshead estate as a guest of the
emotionally fragile Sebastian (Ben Whishaw, right), with whom he even
indulges in a summer fling, Charles (Matthew Goode) changes his tune upon
meeting his friend's sister, Julia (Hayley Atwell).

Even at a relatively economical 336 pages, Waugh's 1945 novel is a dense read with an extremely weighty subtext: the decline of the English Catholic aristocracy, as viewed through the eyes of an unsophisticated, middle-class young man — Charles Ryder — utterly out of his depth after getting tangled within the toxic relationships that characterize the aristocratic Flyte family.

John Mortimer (Rumple of the Bailey), the genius author and playwright who adapted the book for the 1981 miniseries, had both the narrative skill and the leisurely pacing necessary to showcase all of the book's many characters; the result was a sumptuous, melodramatic feast that left viewers feeling that they had, indeed, witnessed the passing of an entire British era.

This new film, by comparison, limits its concerns to Charles and the key members of the Flyte family; we get no sense of the story's broader implications. Writers Andrew Davies and Jeremy Brock concentrate so relentlessly on this particular family's Catholic guilt that we eventually view them as a dysfunctional aberration, rather than a symbol of the crumbling class structure taking place throughout the entire country.

Then, too, the focus on the story's primary romantic triangle takes place at the expense of all the equally fascinating supporting players, not to mention several other members of the Flyte family. (I particularly miss the wonderfully flamboyant Boy Mulcaster, reduced here to a pair of eyeblink cameos.)

And when this condensed character treatment is coupled with the film's disconcerting habit of diving back and forth in time, sometimes leaping ahead many years and leaving us to wonder what took place in between, or what year we're in now, the result feels like a badly hacked-up version of what should have been at least a four-hour film.

Jarrold and editor Chris Gill get no points for narrative clarity.

On the positive side, the film absolutely drips with an atmosphere so simultaneously opulent and poisonous that we cannot help feeling the moral decay that plagues so many of these characters. Then, too, the acting is uniformly excellent, and this is no small thing; anything less, and I'd be making unfavorable comparisons to the miniseries' Jeremy Irons (Charles), Anthony Andrews (Sebastian Flyte) and Diana Quick (Julia Flyte).