Mission: Impossible

REVIEW:

When Mission: Impossible first exploded onto the big screen in 1996, it introduced audiences to a new kind of espionage thriller—one that wasn’t just about explosions or shootouts, but about tension, deception, and shadowy figures playing mental chess. Unlike the bombastic energy that would come to define later entries in the series, this first instalment is much more cerebral in its approach. In fact, aside from the pulse-pounding finale set atop a speeding train, the majority of the film leans more into the world of spy thrillers than it does traditional action. But here’s the kicker—it never feels slow. You’re locked in, completely invested in Ethan Hunt’s desperate attempt to uncover the truth and clear his name.

What makes this debut feel so different from its successors is how much it demands from the audience. There are layers upon layers of misdirection, quiet betrayals, and cryptic conversations. If you’re coming into this after watching Fallout or Dead Reckoning, expecting non-stop spectacle, you’re going to be surprised—maybe even a little disoriented. But that’s what makes it special. It isn’t trying to outdo itself every five minutes. Instead, it trusts the viewer to pay attention, to read between the lines, and to sit with the mounting tension. And that trust pays off in spades.

The plot itself—Ethan Hunt being framed for the deaths of his IMF team and seeking out the mole responsible—might seem straightforward on paper. But the way it’s executed is anything but simple. As a kid, I remember watching this and having absolutely no idea what was happening. I couldn’t follow who was double-crossing who, what “Job 314” meant, or even why Jon Voight’s character gave me the creeps. It’s one of those films that only truly reveals its brilliance when you revisit it later in life. Now, with a more mature eye, I can appreciate the cleverness behind each twist and the slow-burning brilliance of its script.

Brian De Palma’s direction is a masterclass in mood and restraint. He’s known for his use of suspenseful, creeping camera work and tense silences, and Mission: Impossible is full of both. Just look at the iconic Langley heist sequence—there’s barely any dialogue, no music, and yet it’s utterly gripping. And within that scene lies one of the most iconic images in modern cinema: Ethan Hunt suspended by a rope, arms outstretched, inches above the floor. That single shot has become synonymous with the franchise and spy thrillers in general—it’s been referenced, parodied, and honoured countless times, and for good reason. It’s not just visually striking, it perfectly encapsulates the tension and precision the film thrives on. You’re holding your breath with him, completely immersed in the high-stakes quiet. 

Of course, it would be criminal not to mention Lalo Schifrin’s theme. That iconic riff is like a starter pistol for adrenaline. Every time it kicks in, there’s this innate sense of urgency that takes over, even if all that’s happening onscreen is someone walking into a meeting. It’s musical shorthand for impending action, and the way the film uses it sparingly makes its appearances all the more impactful. It’s amazing how a piece of music can be so tightly woven into the DNA of a franchise, and yet it still feels fresh nearly three decades later.

Tom Cruise, already a bona fide Hollywood megastar thanks to Top Gun, Days of Thunder, and A Few Good Men, proved with Mission: Impossible that he wasn’t just a poster boy—he was a producer, a risk-taker, and a man fully in control of his career. The fact that he performed many of his own stunts, even back then, added authenticity to the character of Ethan Hunt. You don’t just believe in Hunt’s desperation—you feel it, and a lot of that is down to Cruise’s intensity. His wide-eyed paranoia, rapid thinking, and physical commitment make him the perfect centrepiece for a film full of shifting allegiances and silent threats.

It’s also worth highlighting how the film never talks down to its audience. It expects you to keep up, to understand the stakes, to track every twist without a helping hand. This isn’t your typical popcorn flick—even though it paved the way for a franchise that eventually embraced that side more heavily. It’s smart, almost too smart for its own good at times, but in an era dominated by straightforward heroes and black-and-white morality, Mission: Impossible made ambiguity thrilling.

Looking back, the original Mission: Impossible feels like the sophisticated older sibling of the franchise—less flashy, more brooding, but with an undeniable magnetism. It’s a film that benefits from rewatches, from maturity, and from patience. If you’ve only ever dipped into the more recent high-octane entries, this one might surprise you. It asks more of you—but if you’re willing to lean in and follow its labyrinthine path, it rewards you with one of the smartest, slickest spy thrillers of the ’90s.