The latest, and maybe possibly perhaps the final, Mission Impossible film.
And the sixth in the franchise.
Sixth.
The bloody sixth one.
How has it got this far?????
I mean the last one was a laugh, sure. And even great fun. But how does a man who must now be at least 127 keep going?
Well, yes, there's that. But let's not go there, eh? We can't afford the legal bills.
But hey, Mission Impossible films are a tad daft and all about the runny chasey stuff so let's not over-think this one, eh?
Yes, sure, we've been on a bad run of late, and there's a very real chance we'll be made to watch The Meg so the future's not what you'd call bright...
...but this is a safe pair of paws, surely.
Cruise saves world by jumping off a ledge and landing on a butterfly, helped by a lively and engaging supporting cast?
What's not to like here?
Well, for a start, the sodding running time.
Clocking in at almost two-and-a-half hours, you'll find yourself checking your watch more regularly than a bomb disposal expert the longer the film drags on.
And it does drag.
There is actually a clear cut-off point at around the 90-minute mark. Or even 110 if you fancy it.
But the final act is just a slog.
It's supposed to be the tense, dramatic climax, but by the time people are rushing to helicopters and having catch-up chats over dangerous wiring you're going to find yourself hoping the dog hasn't pee'd on the sofa.
Thankfully she hadn't.
Which was a bigger highlight than anything this film had to offer.
The story is as complicated as you would hope — plutonium is in the wrong hands because of Reasons and Cruise And The Gang have to get it back via several cities, a blonde femme fatale and an infiltrated agency.
There's tragedy, there's suspicion, there's one thrilling bike chase, there are those helicopters (don't ask where the third one came from), there's comic misunderstandings as Cruise races across rooftops — basically everything we've come to expect from a MI film.
Only it's a bit dull.
It drags.
It seriously lacks sparkle.
Simon Pegg and Rebecca Ferguson look a little unsure of themselves, as if someone has asked them to do things not in keeping with the characters they've played for ages, while Ving Rhames seems to be almost watching what's going on rather than being wrapped up in it all.
Then there's Henry Carvill.
Already not a fan of his wooden screen presence, that was previously attributed to the fact the Superman films are just terrible.
And while they are, turns out he's not a lot better.
Whatever you think of Cruise, on screen he knows what he's doing and knows how to make the most of what he does, so appearing opposite him you've got to bring your A game.
Sadly, it seems Carvill did.
You could airbrush him out of every scene and aside from the hole in the plot and the missing dialogue you'd actually improve the film.
And the more we think about it, it's Carvill that is the problem with this movie.
Look, it's a dumb-ass OTT spy action caper. It's not Bond, it's not Bourne, it has far more in common with The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (no, not the film) and wears it's sixties TV heritage like a badge of honour.
You only have to see the opening credits to know that.
But as such, you need to be OTT yourself. Not panto levels, sure, but you need to believe in the madness, embrace the stupidity, wedge the jester's hat hard on your head and dive in.
What you really, really shouldn't do is be so laid back as to be creating a vacuum every time you're on screen.
If for no other reason than it sucks the joy out of everyone else.
And that's what, at heart, is wrong with this film. No one seems to be having fun.
Even Pegg's usually delightful ineptitude seems a tad stretched.
If this is to be the last, then Cruise should be proud of helming a franchise that has brought a lot of enjoyment to a lot of people (even the Metallica song wasn't terrible).
But maybe this was a mission too far.
If we'd said goodbye last time the memories would be a whole lot fonder.
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