Mission: Impossible

By GREG EVANS

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A Paramount Pictures release of a Paramount Pictures presentation of a Cruise/Wagner production. Produced by Tom Cruise and Paula Wagner. Executive producer, Paul Hitchcock. Directed by Brian De Palma. Screenplay, David Koepp, Robert Towne, story by Koepp, Steven Zallian, based on the television series "Mission: Impossible," created by Bruce Geller.
 
Ethan Hunt ... Tom Cruise Jim Phelps ... Jon Voight Claire ... Emmanuelle Beart Kittridge ... Henry Czerny Krieger ... Jean Reno Luther ... Ving Rhames Sarah Davies ... Kristin Scott-Thomas Max ... Vanessa Redgrave
 

If there's a sense of letdown with the film, it's got nothing to do with nostalgia for the old television series. Aside from the famous title (and pulse-thumping theme song), "Mission: Impossible," the series, rates only a bit higher as a fond memory than "Mannix."

The disappointment comes from the highly possible fact that this top-notch creative team -- Cruise, De Palma, co-scripter Robert Towne, even composer Danny Elfman -- has done more impressive work elsewhere, and in less-esteemed company. Even screenwriter David Koepp, whose "Jurassic Park" was similarly weak on heart , seemed more ambitious with the shaded characters he gave "Carlito's Way."

And just as surely as the movie reaches back to mine the series'

catchy song and famous setup ("Your mission, Jim, should you choose to accept it ..."), the new "Mission: Impossible" latches onto things better left to the ' 60s: a lack of passion, humor or sense of fun. No James Bond wit here -- or Bruce Willis smirk, for that matter. "Mission: Impossible" just might be the most dour, sexless piece of escapism in memory.

Still, it's escapism nonetheless, and De Palma can generate more tension from a precariously dangling bead of sweat than most directors can from a speeding train. When the director sets his sights on the train -- the film's climax -- he all but detonates grudges against threadbare characters and an afterthought romance. Given the emotionally lackluster stakes of this mission -- a MacGuffin barely worthy of the description -- the film's momentum rests almost entirely on the visual style manufactured by De Palma, cinematographer Stephen Burum and editor Paul Hirsch.

Cruise, too. Keeping his usual tricks to a minimum (watch him fall back on the toothy grin when upstaged by a scene-stealing Vanessa Redgrave), Cruise tackles the action genre even more convincingly than he did in "Top Gun" (even if the film won't inspire the same buzz). The glib, flyboy cockiness -- it's still there when he wants it -- of "Mission's" opening scenes gives way to something more mature as quickly as the body count rises. And he looks great, too: His newly buff biceps get so much screen time they deserve separate billing.

The film itself looks nearly as good as Cruise's arms. Prague, Kiev, even London make for misty, shadowy locales picture-perfect for espionage. The characters, too, whether in formal attire or chic ready-to-wear, add to the film's sheen of sophistication -- just what the director ordered to balance the off-kilter camera angles that might otherwise seem comic-book.

Cruise stars as Ethan Hunt, a hotshot member of an elite, unnamed U.S. intelligence group. As the film opens, Hunt and other members of his team (including an electronics whiz played by an unbilled Emilio Estevez) are being prepped on their latest assignment by team leader Jim Phelps (Jon Voight, as the only character recurring from the old series). A former Russian spy is planning the theft of a computer disk containing the true identities of the world's top undercover agents, and the team's mission, should they choose to accept it, is to interrupt the crime. It all takes place at some black-tie embassy affair in Kiev, with Cruise in disguise and other members of his team (Voight, Estevez, Kristin Scott-Thomas, Emmanuelle Beart) taking part in an elaborate sting.

Suffice it to say that everything goes wrong, with only Cruise's Hunt and Beart's Claire, Phelps' wife, surviving. The mission is a setup, and with Hunt alive, his own agency decides that he must be a mole. Cruise's character spends the bulk of the film running from his former cohorts, led by agency boss Kittridge (Henry Czerny).

Credit the screenwriters with the clever notion that, in the post-Cold War era, U.S. intelligence has nothing to fear but itself. Unfortunately, the wire on which they hang this idea is less intriguing than it should be, with Cruise and a new team of partners (Jean Reno, Ving Rhames) hunting the elusive cyber-criminal (code-named Job) who sought to steal and sell the computer disk in the first place. More often than not, the various twists and turns are less ingenious than simply confusing.

That doesn't matter much, though, when the film's set pieces kick into gear. Best scene involves a break-in by Hunt and his new gang at the agency's HQ, with a vault so sensitive to intruders it can detect even their body temperatures. The vault containing the disk, bears more than a little resemblance to Stanley Kubrick's HAL computer, and the homage becomes complete when Cruise, suspended in midair by a wire harness, performs the operation in total silence, as if floating in space.

There are other memorable scenes, but nothing comes close to that segment's grace and ingenuity. The film's climax atop the speeding Chunnel train, pitting Cruise's Hunt against Job, packs an excitement lacking through much of the rest of the film. That's when the film's chief flaw comes into focus: Without an identifiable villain for the audience to love hating, pic lacks the seat's-edge thrills that would send it beyond the just-above-serviceable. What this mission needs is an Alan Rickman.

What it gets, before Job makes his late but not terribly surprising entry, is Czerny, a fine actor who can't disguise the fact that his hard-edged agency director is a fill-in villain until the real thing comes along.

If only someone had thought to let Redgrave fill the void. Captivating as a top agent for the other side she should be the force that goes head to head with Cruise; problem, as the actor-producer probably realized, is that she'd win.

Rest of the cast is fine, although Beart strikes such little romantic fire with Cruise that we're caught off guard when the subject is broached at film's end. Cruise has more chemistry with tough-guy partner Rhames. At least their parting has some feeling.

But then, feeling isn't really the point here. "Mission: Impossible" is a spy thriller, plain and simple, and maybe spies just aren't as thrilling as they were back when TV was young and war was Cold.

Camera (color; Panavision widescreen), Stephen H. Burum; editor, Paul Hirsch; music, Danny Elfman; production design, Norman Reynolds; art direction, Frederick Hole; costume design, Penny Rose; sound (Dolby), David Crozier; special visual effects and animation, Industrial Light & Magic; special makeup effects, Rob Bottin; assistant director, Chris Soldo; casting, Mali Finn (U.S.), Patsy Pollock (U.K.). Reviewed at Mann National Theater, Los Angeles, May 16, 1996. MPAA Rating: PG-13. Running time: 110 min.
 

With: Dale Dye, Marcel Iures, Ion Caramitru, Ingeborga Dapkunaite, Andreas Wisniewski. All "Mission: Impossible" had to do was not self-destruct. Mission accomplished. Does it ignite? Not really, but Tom Cruise's first adventure as a producer has just enough high-tech firepower, old-fashioned star power and a director who knows how to harness it all to put "Mission: Impossible" on the same team as the season's major releases. At least over the long haul, Paramount shouldn't expect "Twister" business (and given the pedigree here, anything less might seem a disappointment), but the film will open big and cruise through the summer.