Review: Mission: Impossible - The Final Reckoning

Something the marketing for Mission: Impossible - The Final Reckoning doesn't want you to remember is that it's the second half of a bigger film. Don't worry, it goes out of its way to remind you of previous events via an astonishingly sluggish first hour that at times feels like a chopped-down version of something that probably would have made this into a trilogy. But tonally? Once this gets going, it's a final act all the way.

In practical terms, that means a hefty slice of what traditionally makes a M:I film fun to watch is now in the rear-view mirror. This still holds up as a stand-alone film (just), but it's a much narrower version of previous installments, like star Tom Cruise and director Christopher McQuarrie started believing their marketing and decided that so long as Cruise was in a couple of real-life death traps the rest of the film didn't matter.

So the first hour is mostly muddled recap with some half-hearted gestures towards franchise requirements: there's a torture scene, a mask reveal, and a lot of exposition which can be summed up as "an evil computer program called 'The Entity' wants to take over the world's nukes and kill everyone, some people want to help it, some want to harness it, and Ethan Hunt (Cruise) wants to shut it down".

As always, the way to do that requires a fair amount of globe trotting. What it doesn't involve this time is a whole lot of traditional action. There are a couple of fight scenes, plus a shootout or two - almost the only joke in the entire film comes in early, when an especially brutal fight is shown solely in the horrified expressions of Grace (Haley Atwell) and some nasty sound effects. But again, the big action beats (remember the car chase through Rome in the previous film?) are a thing of the past.

Pretty much everyone from the previous film returns (it's a part 2 after all), with evil assassin Gabriel (Esai Morales) now wanting to control The Entity, previously evil assassin Paris (Pom Klementieff) now helping the good guys, computer genius Luther (Ving Rhames) now confined to a sick bed and spare computer genius Benji (Simon Pegg) now looking pretty worn down. Possibly because there's multiple leaden speeches here about the power of choice and saving those we'll never meet and so on, like this was a series about teaching serious life lessons and not people constantly pulling off rubber masks.

Angela Bassett is back too, only now she's the President and gets some surprisingly tense scenes as it becomes increasingly clear that the only options left are either she nukes everyone else or The Entity nukes everyone. It's also a reminder that this is a franchise where a large amount of the tension often comes from scenes the star has nothing to do with - they're spy thrillers where Hunt's role is basically that of a human screwdriver, a tool used to defuse the bomb.

Defusing a bomb can be a lot of fun to watch though, and as benefits a film that is basically one big climax to a five-hour story, this features two big dialogue-free set-pieces that make this worth the price of admission on their own. In one Hunt has to navigate the insides of a wrecked sub; the second is a biplane chase that somehow involves Hunt crawling all over the outside of not one but two planes mid-flight.

The big selling point is supposedly "Cruise does all his own stunts!", and fair play, his stuntwork is extremely impressive. But it's telling that the sub sequence (which may involve Cruise inside what is basically a giant washing machine set on spin dry, but did not take place in an actual sunken sub) is just as thrilling as the plane chase, which does involve actual planes flying not-that-high above the real earth. Watching a 62 year-old multi-millionaire risk his life purely for our amusement is fun, but not as much fun as a well-crafted suspense sequence.

More than most Mission: Impossible films, which don't exactly have a reputation for smooth storytelling, this feels like a grab-bag of parts. The good parts are extremely good and build towards a thrilling climax that's a shot of pure adrenaline guarenteed to send you out the cinema on a high. 

The bad parts? Well, if they ever make another one - and this most definitely does not shut the door on that possibility - maybe Hunt could stay out of those endless crumbling brick tunnels he's always running down.

- Anthony Morris

 

 

Review: The Surfer

You can't go home again. If home is A Land Down Under, you're a fool to even try. For Nicolas Cage's unnamed character (okay, he's "the Surfer"), a return trip to try and salvage his shattered life by purchasing the house he spent some of his childhood in goes horribly wrong seemingly for no other reason than, well, it's Australia. Surf's up.

Things are looking shaky from the start. The deal to purchase the house is on a knife-edge, his son (Finn Little) doesn't seem all that impressed with stories of past glories, and when they head down to the beach to hit the waves they're bluntly told that the only thing that's going to be hit is them if they don't piss off. 

Localism (a real thing) is where surfers don't take kindly to outsiders - after all, good waves are a finite resource, and the locals rarely like to share. So they retreat, his son heads off (his parents are separated, obviously; no prizes for guessing which one has moved on with her life) and our hero sticks around to make a few calls from the carpark.

Getting away turns out to be surprisingly difficult thanks to a mix of urgent phone business, some extremely aggressive teens, a local hobo (Nic Cassim) even more hated than the Surfer, and a slowly growing sense that maybe he doesn't want to go anywhere - he was a local once too, even if nobody will acknowledge it.

What follows is a nicely balanced decent into madness as the Surfer takes up residence in the beach carpark, partly to spy on surf thug cult leader Scally (Julian McMahon), partly because events seem to conspire to strip everything from him, and partly because everything seems to be going wrong at such a rapid rate we're not quite sure how much of everything is all in his mind. Maybe even none of it?

Fortunately this is Nicolas Cage we're dealing with, and his ability to finely judge just how over-the-top his performance should be is put to good use here. He maintains an element of desperation throughout that keeps the insanity grounded - he's just a regular guy, with a past that may or may not be as solid as it seems, and while he certainly plays a part in his downward spiral he's still the victim here.

Scally's cult (their big marketing hook is rhyming "surfer" with "suffer") brings in themes of toxic masculinity, but they're there more to motivate the hilariously aggressive locals than provide any real social commentary. What this film is really about is simply seeing Cage become increasingly sunburnt and shabby as the world wears him down. Sometimes the waves carry you out, sometimes they bring you back.

- Anthony Morris

 

Review: Thunderbolts*

The golden age of Marvel movies was three and a half stars at best. A decade or so ago, when Marvel ruled the screens, the secret of their success was consistency: while they only rarely served up something truly exciting or memorable, they never (well, almost never, looking at you Thor: Dark World) delivered a real dud.

And then suddenly they were serving up misfires, and turning out for every movie in a series seemed a lot less essential when you knew there was a good chance you'd be sitting down to watch something bad. What Thunderbolts* does - and does well - is reset the quality counter. It's not great, but it's good enough: if Marvel can just make another few movies like this, they might really be onto something.

Depressed after the death of her sister and basically just going through the motions of being a professional murderer, Yelena Belova (Florence Pugh) is looking for a change. She's thinking a move to more public facing superheroics might do her good; her employer, shady spy maven Valentina Allegra de Fontaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfus) sees her as more of a loose end. With political pressure being brought to bear on her in Washington, it's time to tidy up.

When Yelena's next mission turns out to be something of a circular firing squad - with a bunch of fellow shady types including John "U.S. Agent" Walker (Wyatt Russell) and Ghost (Hannah John-Kamden) pointing guns at each other - they all realise they've been set up. Figuring out what dazed regular human Bob (Lewis Pullman) is doing there will have to wait: escaping the bunker and getting past the guards is job number one.

Once they do get free, with the help of Yelena's dad Alexi "The Red Guardian" Shostakov (David Harbour), they're still in trouble. Valentina wants them gone; Congressman Bucky "The Winter Soldier" Barnes (Sebastian Stan) wants them to help him take her down. Could there be an even bigger threat lurking in the wings? One that will force this rag-tag group to come together as a team and learn to trust one another? And let's not even get started on the power of love.

Almost none of these characters are original to this film, but there's next to no backstory required, making this feel a lot fresher than most of Marvel's recent output. The usual mix of relatively grounded action and wisecracks is more of the same, but the action generally makes sense and it's surprisingly how well the usual zingers land when they're delivered by decent actors.

The ensemble is Thunderbolts* real strength. Just about everyone here could support a solo feature (c'mon, Dreyfus has already has multiple TV series), while Pugh is a genuine movie star and Marvel doesn't really have a surplus of those. You want to see what happens to these characters, even when it's the usual run of scenes standing around throwing quips at each other; when the post-credit sequence propels them into the next stage of the MCU it's hard not to think "hang on, why can't we just hang out for a while?"

Marvel movies have to be good at what they do because what they do is pretty restricted. The action can't be too violent, the jokes have to be PG, forget about sexual tension. If this feels like a James Gunn movie without James Gunn, that's because he's the first director since Joss Whedon who figured out how to thread this particular needle - the secret ingredient here being sincerity, as it turns out super-powered beings get depressed too.

- Anthony Morris

 

Review: The Accountant 2

Even back in 2016, The Accountant was the kind of action movie that felt a little behind the times. A complicated plot built around a surprisingly good hook - what if Ben Affleck was fake-named Christian Wolff, an autistic super-accountant who laundered money for top criminals and was also really good at murdering henchmen - it didn't really deliver anything special but it did serve up a lot of it. And now, in a move nobody saw coming, he's back.

This time around the whole "crime accountant" thing is dismissed in a single phone call (the film spends more time on a scene where Wolff rigs a speed dating event, only to find his personality is so off-putting everyone bails on him), leaving the plot mechanics to an overly-complicated set-up involving the abrupt death of a supporting character.

This leads to newly promoted supporting character Marybeth Medina (Cynthia Addai-Robinson) taking on a mystery only "The Accountant" can help her solve. As she is a high level Federal law enforcement officer, this is the one part of the story that's actually convincing, even if her reason for contacting an organised crime figure is that the investigation is off the books and not because government law enforcement has collapsed in the USA.

They run around, Wolff cracks some heads - much to Medina's dismay - and then he realises he's going to need some help to figure out how to solve what seems to be a human trafficking case. Enter his equally murderous but slightly more socially adjusted brother Braxton (Jon Bernthal), who takes time out from being a hitman who's trying to collect a cute puppy to come to LA to use his ability to act like an actual human being to murder the people his brother can't.

Their double act is easily the best part of the film, and while it's unlikely we'll ever get a film that's just one lethal killer trying to help another lethal killer pick up women in cowboy bars, that's Hollywood's loss because that kind of thing is the only time this really comes alive.

Otherwise the story is by-the-numbers in that generic action movie way where everything builds to a big shootout where the stakes are like "eh, whatever", while the few weird elements from the previous film (most notably Wolff's backup team of autistic super-hackers) only get the occasional look-in. Nothing here is actively bad, but aside from the Affleck-Bernthal pairing it's difficult to figure out what exactly about this is meant to be luring audiences into cinemas.

Then again, it is a pretty solid pairing. The pair have strong chemistry, they're both better actors than the material requires, and their characters mesh well together. Wolff gets to warm up and show some interest in Braxton's feelings, and Braxton's tough shell cracks at a moment that actually makes good use of the fact that this is a sequel and the characters do have an on-camera history that goes back almost a decade.

It's rare to see an action movie these days where the action isn't the whole point (what action we do get here is solid but not spectacular), but that means the main plot ends up feeling a little beside the point. It's the buddy comedy stuff that works here.

If someone suggested a version of The Odd Couple with these two leads as bickering roommates who occasionally have to murder a warehouse full of goons, they'd have a winner on their hands; maybe get the Accountant to run the numbers on that project.

- Anthony Morris

Review: Sinners

 

The year is 1932, and the SmokeStack brothers (both Smoke and Stack are played by Michael B Jordan) have returned to their southern home town with a load of money and guns. They're looking to invest in a juke joint, so over the course of a day they buy an old sawmill, source a couple of musicians, stock the place with supplies (the booze they've bought themselves) and get ready for one hell of a good time.

Thanks to Irish vampire Remmick (Jack O'Connell), that good time eventually does turn hellish, but the turn is a long time coming. Writer / director Ryan Coogler (Black Panther) takes a long time setting things up, and not a moment's wasted: Smoke (the serious one) and Stack (the free-spirited one) split up to get what they need, and their adventures gathering supplies and young guitarist Sammie Moore (Miles Caton) plus experienced blues harp player Delta Slim (Delroy Lindo), keep the energy levels way up.

Once the music starts this really takes off - literally at one central point, when Sammy's playing reaches across time to bring in the spirits of other musicians past and future. It's the kind of scene that could easily have come off as forced or cheesy, but the joy and power of the music carries it effortlessly. When people call this a musical, they're not joking.

There's a lot going on here before the chord change. The brothers are giving back to a community that's under siege even before the vampires turn up, the music an escape from chains both literal and social. Coogler takes full advantage of the wide open landscapes to craft some gorgeous big-screen visuals before the story shifts to the sawmill. And there's a string of sharply defined women (including Hailee Steinfeld, Wummi Mosaku and Jayme Lawson) drawn to the music and the men who're making it happen.

Then, after a single scene of horror early on to let us know what's to come, the tone changes. The shift when Remmick and his new backing band turn up looking to come in and play a few numbers isn't abrupt, but it doesn't take long for a bunch of new rules to be established.

Now we're watching a vampire movie, and Coogler shifts to playing the classics. There's a few angles he's interested in polishing up - the need to invite vampires in comes up again and again to good effect - but on the whole the vampire stuff is merely good rather than great. Coogler's like a musician who has to run through the hits, but his heart isn't quite in it: it's when he gets to spin his own riffs that he really shines.

Everything in that first 90 minutes - especially the use of music - is pushing things, taking the story beyond the usual limits. And that includes sexually; we're so used to mainstream American genre film being asexual that the easy way this has with sex - both brothers get their ends away, sex advice is casually handed out and skillfully applied, and there's no doubt whatsoever that the music we're hearing only has one thing on its mind - is more transgressive and startling than any horde of bloodsuckers that used to be people.

Coogler draws a very straight line between the music and the beyond. Charlie's guitar playing is so good, we're told, it can pierce the veil between this world and the next and open a door between them (which is why vampires aren't turning up to every juke joint down south). It's just that the music here is so much more vivid than the vampires, supernatural beings or not. We expected something awe-inspiring and terrifying, not a bunch of overly familiar rowdy drunks.

Then again, the vampires like a good tune too. The divide between Irish traditional and the blues seems a bit harsh at first, but it rapidly becomes clear that the film, if not the people in it, are on the side of music no matter who's playing it. 

That's made even more clear in the film's multiple codas (you do not want to leave when the credits start rolling), where the focus is as much on the music that survived the night as it is the people. Seems there's more than one way to live forever.

- Anthony Morris

Review: Warfare

The year is 2006, the place is Iraq, and in Ramadi a US Navy SEAL team selects and occupies a multistory home, smashing their way in and ordering the residents to stay in a single room. There they set up a post covertly observing a nearby market, though it doesn't take long for the locals to realise they're being watched. Many of the locals have guns. Things rapidly escalate.

This story (based on events experienced by co-director Ray Mendoza) isn't entirely told in real-time - the Americans were in the house for a while before things turned violent - but once the shooting starts the focus is on immersing the audience in the moment-by-moment chaos and clamour of modern war. It's loud, it's confusing, you can't see who's shooting at you and you don't know if those around you who've been shot are dead or just wounded.

Co-director Alex Garland has form with this kind of you-are-there look at street fighting (see the final act of Civil War) and this is an extremely tense experience for much of the 95 minute run time. The SEAL team are just distinct enough to be individuals without breaking the illusion of being there as it happens - nobody starts revealing their backstory - and while at times it's difficult to identify who's doing what (being covered in dirt and plaster will do that to you), the confusion is intentional.

There's a lot to unpack here if you can get past the relentless violence and stress of combat (to be fair, that's hard to do at times). The soldiers psych themselves up for combat by watching the notorious softcore porn video to Eric Prydz' 'Call On Me'; amongst themselves they're joking, on the job they're emotionless machines, and the Iraqis whose home they commandeer are an inconvenience at best. 

War itself here is both visceral and remote, the unit a well-oiled machine designed to fire thousands of rounds at distant shapes. It's the small moments that stand out against the carnage - gear needs to be retrieved, superior officers don't want to release needed resources, the shockwave from a low-flying jet is better able to suppress the enemy than any lethal weapon.

Beyond the impressive film-making on display, Warfare stands out for the way it takes the "focus on one day and you'll reveal the subject's entire life" biopic approach to the Iraqi war. The story here is the conflict in miniature: a group of Americans invade a family home for reasons that seem arbitrary, trash the place, get into a massive battle with heavily casualties and loss of equipment, then withdraw having achieved nothing. 

At one point one of the two local troops on patrol with the US forces say the Americans are going to use them as human shields: they are not shown happily waving flags during the end credits.

- Anthony Morris

 

 

Review: Drop

 

Drop is one of those thrillers it's become slightly surprising to see in cinemas. Small cast, largely confined to one location, well-written and twisty script; it doesn't have a whole lot going for it but it definitely makes the most of what there is. It'd be nice to think there's still room for this kind of film in between the blockbusters and horror franchises. After all, cinemas still claim to have something for everyone.

Violet (Meghann Fahey) is going on her first date in years - her gun-waving husband is dead, she's now giving guidance to abused women, these dots don't need much connecting - leaving her young son in the care of her sassy sister (Violett Beane). It's a dinner date at a fancy restaurant high above the city, and while she's waiting for photographer Henry (Brandon Sklenar) to show she has a number of brief but memorable encounters with fellow diners and staff which you should definitely pay close attention to.

That's because not long after the hopefully happy couple sits down she starts getting text messages from a anonymous file-sharing service called Digidrop (hence the title) that rapidly get personal and aggressive. Turns out there's a man with a gun at her home and there's a few things the mystery messenger wants her to do before the night is out.

Most of the middle act is Violet trying to get help only to find the texter is one step ahead, while the mystery of who it might be (turns out they have to be close by for the app to work) is handled with plenty of misleads but not too many obvious cheats. There's a few surprising moments, but this is a fairly grounded entry in the genre - it's not exactly realistic, but it takes place in a somewhat realistic world.

Fortunately writers Jillian Jacobs and Christopher Roach, along with director Christopher Landon (responsible for the very enjoyable Happy Death Day series) keep things moving fast while juggling enough subplots (will the sleazy piano player really play 'Baby Shark'? Will their server ever make it in the world of improv?) to ensure things never get bogged down.

There's also the whole first date angle, which is handled deftly thanks in large part to the authentic chemistry between Fahey and Sklenar, but with a nice boost via a conversation which ties Violet's abusive past with what she's going through here. It's nothing ground-shaking, but like everything else here it's just that little bit better than it needs to be.

At a tight 90 minutes, and with an all-action climax that goes big compared to the tightly-wound film leading up to it, this understands the brief and fulfills it efficiently. Centered on an excellent performance from Fahey, who has to get a lot of the drama across while playing a character trying not to let anything show, Drop is 2025's best worst first date.

- Anthony Morris