The Road to Final Reckoning: Mission: Impossible 3 - A Redirection Towards Relationships

Mission: Impossible 3 reframes Ethan Hunt in a paternal role to make the entire franchise more approachable after the off-putting predecessor.

“We’ve put an explosive charge in your head.”

Phillip Seymour Hoffman drops these words as if each one were an anvil, the blunt force of the delivery giving no indication of emotion behind the man speaking them, who at the time of uttering these words, is still hidden behind a black screen.

Hard cut onto Ethan Hunt, bloodshot eyes, ears ringing, completely lost as he realizes he’s white-knuckling the arm of a chair he’s tied to. Audience’s know nothing, save that Ethan is beat, and it’s bad: viewer’s don’t even get a millisecond to find their footing in the disorienting pain we share with Hunt when it’s revealed that Hoffman, whoever he’s playing, has kidnapped Hunt’s wife, Julia. Another element thrown into the mix: “Ethan has a wife?” Audiences are by now feeling more confused than Hunt when Hoffman demands “the rabbits foot” and begins counting…

“Seven.”

As Hunt realizes the gravity of the scenario he’s in…

“Eight.”

And that Hoffman…

“Nine.”

Much like this opening…

“Ten.”

Isn’t messing around.

BANG—

Ethan’s screams are deafened by the pulsating “Mission: Impossible” (MI) theme kicking into high gear and the audience’s heartbeats thumping out of their ears. This intense opening is indicative of the film’s remaining tone with up and coming Director J.J. Abrams at the helm. His style is inextricable from Mission:Impossible 3’s (MI3) identity and effectiveness, especially when comparing this entry to its dated predecessor, Mission: Impossible 2 (MI2).

If you are keeping up with my series on reviewing each “Mission: Impossible” film to prepare myself for The Final Reckoning, you will recall how I found Mission: Impossible 2 came off as a bit self-indulgent on Tom Cruise’s part, primarily because of how Ethan Hunt was portrayed as uncharacteristically “Bondian.” In later MI films, Hunt’s dominating traits are his shared obsession with the mission, the team, and the consistently impossible scenarios he finds himself within because of how these two pillars are put into direct conflict. We’ll come to see how this identity is perfected come Mission: Impossible Fallout, but prior to that masterclass in action filmmaking, Hunt’s character was up in the air. In 1999, it seemed fitting for the acting lead of a spy-based franchise with a charming smile and burgeoning super-star level status in Hollywood to follow in James Bond’s luxurious footsteps. In Mission: Impossible 2, Hunt is his most cocky, most overtly sexual, and most “charming,” with these traits being demonstrated through a hammy script with action set-pieces that rarely positioned Hunt in vulnerable positions, and instead privileged slow-motion shots of Tom Cruise emerging from smoke with doves highlighting his grand entrance. Bond was suave, whereas Hunt appeared as a try-hard when attempting to replicate that his across-the-pond rival’s charisma. Walking into MI3 then, audiences had an unlikeable lead because of his apparent self-obsession that matched the actor’s real world reputation, which doesn’t seem desirable for a franchise just getting itself settled. I can’t help but read the follow-up to MI2, what I see as an indulgent film, as a course correction, specifically in character for Ethan to become a more likable and empathetic protagonist by making him more focused on relationships, and in tone to establish the MI franchise as distinctly its own.

As implied by this essay’s opening, the two film’s distinct identities are established immediately with their respective openings. While Mission: Impossible 2 opens on a glorious display of physical ability with Ethan Hunt scaling the side of desert cliffs for no narrative payoff, Mission: Impossible 3 opens with Hunt on the verge of death and completely broken. Hunt does not know where he is, and Cruise is giving his all in delivering a convincingly desperate man begging for everything he lives for: his wife. Whereas MI2 captures an alienated Hunt in the middle of nowhere performing isolated feats of awesomeness, MI3 opens on a scene with Hunt already lost. The visual language could not be further from one another to effectively establish completely different tones and framing of Hunt as a character: MI2 captures Cruise in wide shots and with speed ramps to prolong his amazing feats, whereas MI3 operates with a handheld camera, blown-out highlights, and frenetic editing to make Ethan feel lost in his own movie. The filmmaking thus matches the rest of the films intention in redirecting the series to become something more likable and consumable for mainstream audiences, specifically because of how it positions Ethan as weak instead of edifying him with self-aggrandizing imagery and narrative events.

But it is not just the opening scene that has Ethan on the back foot. One of MI3’s greatest elements is the dynamic between Ethan Hunt and Phillip Seymour Hoffman as nuclear arms dealer Owen Davian, and how this relationship represents a greater effort by the film to consistently put Hunt in more vulnerable positions than in its predecessor to shed the potential reputation of the franchise being an off-putting Tom Cruise vehicle. Every scene between Davian and Hunt is truly thrilling because of how Davian is able to attack Hunt with words alone. Even when it seems like Hunt has won, Davian rips the rug out in ways that audiences are unfamiliar with considering Ethan’s supposed invincibility. After the film’s second main set-piece, in which Hunt and crew have to kidnap Davian when he’s in Vatican City to pick up “The Rabbit’s Foot,” Hunt brings Davian onto a plane for interrogation. Despite being tied up by a complete stranger and thrown in the back of a helicarrier, Davian is completely cool, which only burns Hunt as he attempts to pry Davian for answers. The conversation starts with Hunt confident and angry, but in his calm threats and wavering stability, Davian enrages Hunt to the point where Davian ultimately embarrasses and humiliates him. Following this, Davian coordinates a surprise attack that sends Hunt scrambling for even a few bullets in what’s one of the film’s most intense sequences, primarily from how little resources Hunt has to work with. In fact, Hunt even dies in the film’s climax, and has to be saved by Julia, who also shoots the killing blow against the main antagonist. Again and again, Hunt is not only beaten, surprised, and usurped, but on a meta-textual level, Tom Cruise is playing an action lead that doesn’t even perform the typical “super spy” actions viewers have come to expect, i.e. being alive for the film’s climax. In these consistent subversions/departures from Hunt’s seeming invincibility and all-knowingness in MI2, I cannot help but read MI3 as intentionally placing Hunt in more narratively precarious situations to make him more approachable and empathetic.

Beyond beating him to a pulp, MI3 also completely reframes the audience’s perception of Ethan Hunt as a character by situating him within a new narrative context. In MI2, audiences are introduced to Hunt, again, rock-climbing by himself, isolated from the world, assumingly doing cool spy things whenever the omnipresent Tom Cruise live feed glitches out. In MI3, after seeing Ethan on the verge of death and tears, the film cuts to Hunt in the complete opposite of MI2’s locale: the comfortable suburbs, hosting a house party with his fiancee, where instead of using his spy abilities to cross death-defying gaps in the mountainside, he uses his super-spy hearing to be a great conversationalist. The scene and idea itself are hokey, but delightful because of how genuinely happy Ethan seems, and how the film indulges in its own cheesiness. Ethan’s retired from fieldwork, and now trains IMF agents for their own careers, which to this viewer, positions Ethan in a paternal role when paired with his new life in the suburbs as a loving husband. To support this idea, Ethan is completely reluctant to return to the field until hearing that his protege, Lindsey Ferris, who he personally signed off on being ready for fieldwork, has been kidnapped. The paternal instinct kicks in, and Hunt is immediately back in the field coming to rescue his student.

This is all necessary groundwork performed in each of the film’s respective openings to establish their iteration of Hunt, and the cumulative effects of both narratives deliver a protagonist that has changed overnight. Between films, Ethan went from being filmed with a heavenly camera in isolated moments of badass spy training, to being beaten and bruised in the attempts of saving those he loves, and it is not hard to see how the ladder would be a more likable and approachable protagonist for an emerging franchise.

However, what I believe what solidifies MI3 as a course correction for the series is its introduction to long-standing side characters that remain significant to the rest of the franchise. Rarely do audiences ever hear mention of Nyah or Sean Ambrose, but viewers are still seeing Julia appear in entries as late as Mission: Impossible Fallout, and it simply wouldn’t be a “Mission: Impossible” film without Benji, both of whom were introduced in this third installment. Beyond the simple introduction of now franchise-significant characters, previously established characters were redirected similarly to Hunt towards something closer to their later, established identities. For example, in Mission: Impossible 2, Luther’s most defining personality trait is his love for designer brands and a luxurious lifestyle…for some reason. For similarly no narrative motivation, Luther sheds this personality trait in MI3 to instead be a genuine friend to Ethan by providing advice on his relationship. From here on, Luther consistently has conversations with Ethan or his romantic interest to provide helpful advice, taking on a much more genuine and empathetic role than Mission: Impossible 2’s money hungry iteration. Even the antagonist is treated with a seriousness that ascribes a narrative weight which, despite what feels like being physically on-screen less, makes Davian feel more significant than Ambrose and his forced history with Hunt. Meaning, from antagonists to Hunt’s most reliable partners, nearly every side character is given an increased narrative weight by being more naturally integrated into the plot, directly connected to Hunt as a character, and being given defined traits that acted as the groundwork for the rest of the franchise to build upon.

And just as the opening scene establishes the hyperactive pace and intense tone, the film’s climax similarly deviates from MI2’s self-indulgent action to have a sequence which sees Hunt consistently undermined, and directly motivated to fight by his connection with others. Mission: Impossible 2 has an undeniably memorable climax, but arguably more for its unbelievable camp than engaging action. In what is now labeled the “motorcycle joust,” Hunt and Ambrose speed head first towards each other in just one ridiculous scene featuring Cruise performing stunts on a motorcycle with explosions engulfing the frame. While this sounds potentially evocative on paper, in reality, this viewer felt the climax was consistently interrupted by slow-motion, speed ramps, and a general hyperdramatic tone that felt silly and undermined the film’s intention to excite. Meanwhile, Mission: Impossible 3 ends on a climax that, while I still find imperfect, had me leaning into the screen for how effectively the movie managed to grab my attention. I believe this is from the main narrative difference between the two film’s climaxes: the narrative focus and inclusion of Ethan’s romantic partner. In MI2, not only is Nyah narratively distant by being placed in a remote location far from the action, but I found it to be a genuine detriment on the film’s part to hardly depict her on screen. It was confusing to go through the second portion of the film with nearly zero visual or audio mention of Nyah, to then cut to her in a wide shot on a cliff surrounded by deep blue, and have to remind myself where and who she was. Cut back to Ethan, yes, motorcycle jousting his way to victory, long hair never not blowing in the wind either in slow motion or high speed time remapping. However, much like Hunt’s new crewcut, MI3 is high and tight, with the climax having Ethan not only consistently in peril from a microscopic bomb placed in his head, but having to endure the pain while trying to protect Julia, who Davian managed to entangle in this life-threatening encounter. Hunt is desperate, so much so that there’s only one solution: death. That’s right, Hunt tells Julia the only way to survive the bomb is to literally die and be resuscitated. Because Julia is a nurse and a defibrillator is at the ready, Hunt’s actions in the third film’s climax couldn’t be further from the superhero-adjacent stunts in MI2. Whereas Nyah remains isolated in form and narrative while Hunt is captured with heavenly doves backing his god-like actions, Julia watches her super-spy husband die in the middle of an impossible mission.

And, yes, the inevitable does happen; after all, there are five more films after Ethan’s supposed death. Hunt’s plan works, Julia brings him back to life, and the two quite literally walk away together smiling as the credits role from the remaining IMF team as they take on their next mission: their honeymoon. The final shot feels like a rom-com, which is a tonal juxtaposition that is indicative of the potential for further tightening on Hunt’s new empathetic persona. This refocus comes in Mission: Impossible Ghost Protocol, where Ethan is his most angry, least committed to outside relationships, and most obsessive with the mission. That is a discussion for another review, but to recap thoughts on this installment: MI3 was a necessary course correction to keep “Mission: Impossible” from being a distasteful, self-indulgent spy franchise copying Bond’s aesthetics and identity. This is primarily achieved by making Hunt as a character more empathetic and likeable by making his character less reliant on Cruise’s star persona to be attractive to audiences, and returning to a more serious tone that restrained the film from over-indulging in Hunt’s stylish setpieces. While Hunt is still beyond normal human abilities in MI3, again, the agent dies in the climax of his own movie, and isn’t even awake for when his wife shoots and kills the main antagonist. Compare this to the prolonged, overdramatic, overacted duel between Ambrose and Hunt at the end of MI2, and the climaxes between the two sequels demonstrate how the franchise treated Mission: Impossible 3 as a response to its predecessor, and has turned out to be a necessary course correction based on how the upcoming films evolved elements established in Hunt’s third outing.