Monday, 31 December 2018

Why Mission Impossible is Important (no, really)


There’s a moment in Mission Impossible: Fallout where the franchise seemed to have completely gone off the rails. Ethan Hunt, after saving his teammate, loses three balls of plutonium. Fade into a hospital scene, and Hunt stares dramatically into the middle distance as Wolf Blitzer soberly announces that Rome, Jerusalem and Mecca have been nuked on the TV screen. This is of course all an elaborate set up to get information from the first of three bad guys in the film, but the effect was jarring. Had they lost their minds? Had the filmmakers completely and utterly destroyed any and all tension for the remaining two hours of screen time? Would any of the car chases, foot chases, helicopter chases and sundry other chases be worth a damn?

It’s a clever moment with a fun reveal, but it did get me thinking – why did that work so well? What's the appeal of Mission Impossible?

I don’t think it needs to be left as just subtext – these films are just insane to look at. Tom Cruise has carved himself a place in the Hollywood Pantheon as The Guy Who Does The Stunts, and they look incredible. A huge part of the fun are the stories around the production. He jumped off a plane – for real! He flew a helicopter through mountain ranges – for real! He broke his foot leaping off a building – and kept it in the film!

There’s a lot to be said for how they’re shot as well. Filmed on 50 mm, Fallout looks intentionally like a documentary, the camera acting as much as it can like a real human eye, watching the action. Think back on the sky dive – the grain of the light, the patient camerawork (no smash cuts or zooms), the constant focus on Cruise which, even though you can only see his face at the beginning and end of the scene, you have all the information you need to know that, yup, that’s him in there.



There’s a reason why the finale of the first Mission Impossible isn’t as well remembered as the vault scene; it’s not real. Now, of course a helicopter in a tunnel attached to a train going 150 miles per hour isn’t going to be real, but there’s no denying that it’s aged poorly. What’s great about Rogue Nation and Fallout is that the stunt pieces are designed to match the limits of physical stunt work within that environment. These films will continue to look incredible long after other, more CGI heavy fare, begin to look creaky.

Image result for mission impossible vault sceneImage result for mission impossible train tunnel

One of these is iconic – one is kind of goofy now. Prizes for which is which!


Though it’s a hugely important part, I don’t think it’s the entirety of the appeal. Otherwise, Tom Cruise Has a Normal Day for Tom Cruise Standards would be a constant box office hit and no other films need be made.

But I also don’t think it’s the plots. In fact, I don’t think anyone goes to one of these films for the bits where Alec Baldwin pulls the strings with the CIA so The Syndicate doesn’t find out about the NOC list or whatever-else-can-be-made-into-an-acronym macguffin is this time around. ‘We need the thing so the other guys don’t get the thing so here’s Tom Cruise in a water tank’ is just about enough logic to pull the story together.

Not to say that they should be incoherent. Fallout finds a balance with this by refusing to mention the political landscape of central Asia and simple focuses on the human cost of exploding a nuke there. Yes, India, Pakistan, China and NATO would vigorously explode the entire world if that happened in real life for horrifying, point scoring reasons. Nope, it’s not important to know that for this film. What’s important is that a third of the world’s population would suddenly be drinking radioactive water, which is obviously a very bad thing to happen. This is explained once and, since world starvation is an easy enough idea to grasp on to, only once. No acronyms, no explaining the further reach of world starvation, just good ol’ fashioned high stakes with a terrifyingly imaginable human cost.

But it’s not the appeal. Avengers Infinity War gleefully exploded half the universe to an ‘ah shucks’. Turns out half the universe exploding in a movie with quantum leaps and time travel isn’t such a big stake after all. So what is it about Mission Impossible that makes the stakes so high?

It’s simple really. Ethan Hunt has a soul, and we don’t want him to lose it.

Fallout toys with a darker, grittier Ethan Hunt. A scene has him, undercover, imagine what would happen in a raid on a police van to catch bad guy number 2. It’s carnage. Police die, henchmen die, it’s high octane nonsense until Ethan Hunt has to pull a gun on a downed police officer, then something changes. You as a viewer really, really don’t want to see Ethan Hunt kill an unarmed, innocent man. But you also don’t want him to blow his cover, nor sweet talk his way out of the situation. The film shows you a complete dead end, only pulling the rug from under your feet at the very last second. It confronts you; what do you want to see Ethan become? The kind of person who kills for his government for loftier goals?

Alec Baldwin states at the beginning (basically to camera) that the reason why Ethan Hunt as so super great and special is because he refuses to lose one life for the many. This has been said many a time in many a film where the hero nods, winks, then throws a monster into a building.

Image result for tom cruise running
Not pictured: London in literal flames
The collateral damage of an Avengers is such that, even when they try to spend entire movies unpacking it, it’s sort of forgotten about, the remnants being Captain America and Iron Man no longer being on speaking terms. Ethan Hunt even considering destroying a building is not what we paid for, nor is Hunt torturing a person (like Jack Bauer), straight up murdering henchmen (like Jason Bourne) or even being callous and a bit of a cad (Bond, obviously). Hunt doesn’t quip or make one-liners, he doesn’t shoot through cars, he doesn’t level a city to take out one guy. He grunted ‘no body count!’ in 1996 and, though, he hasn’t quite managed that (henchmen are gonna hench, after all) he’s done a damn sight more than most to stop countless others falling in his path.

We need Mission Impossible because we need to remember that high stakes don’t mean thousands must die on the way. The dream sequence shows what a mission in these films gone horribly wrong would look like, and oooh, about thirty people die? That’s enough for Ethan to blanch and work out another way to get the job done.

We need Ethan Hunt’s soul, whole and intact. Long may it remain so.


Wednesday, 6 June 2018

Toxic Love


When I was 11, I fell deeply and irreversibly in love with the Lord of the Rings. It actually changed my life. I adored every last second of it and honestly? Though the fires of passion have faded through the mists of time, I still firmly believe that it's the best studio trilogy ever  and the main reason why I’ve just dropped a significant wad of cash to tour New Zealand this summer. The Lord of the Rings is excellent.

It also made me utterly unbearable. I could just about go five sentences into a conversation before turning it back to Rings. I wore t shirts until they stank and then threw a mard when I was ordered to change into something else. I spent far too much time alone online, rereading the same few websites and the worst, most terribly written fanfiction I could get my hands on. Most importantly though, I couldn’t handle any criticism about the films because I took it as a personal insult against me, the world’s most important person. I remember some catastrophic sense of humour fails which left me crying and my poor, beleaguered family exhausted.

I’d transplanted a personality for a fandom. I used to look back fondly on how much of a nerd I was, but now…?

The Guardian, 05/06/2018
The Guardian. 09/10/2017

BBC, 06/06/2018



Guys, we need to talk about toxic fandoms.

Liking stuff is great. Handmade merchandise is neat. Listening to niche, cool podcasts is fun. Memes are awesome, this one being my favourite:

Stuff like this is why I still have a Tumblr.


As fans become closer to the creators of their beloved objects of desire through Twitter, Instagram and still somehow Facebook, great stuff can come from it too. However, for every cute story about The Rock throwing a high schooler a cinema day, there are about ten more for a celebrity who’s had to just leave to stop the abuse hurled at them. Ed Sheeran quit Twitter. Justin Beiber privatised his Instagram. Adele, Rihanna, Leslie Jones, Daisy Ridley and Emma Stone all had to quit following trollish, abusive comments. And then there are the hordes of Youtubers who receive vitriolic hatred for their opinions on a daily basis. All of this from fans.

I’m not going to say ‘so called fans’, because these are people who like stuff, same as me. Ed Sheeran left following his appearance on Game of Thrones, Justin Beiber closed down his Instagram because people were harassing his girlfriend. Leslie Jones left because of eye wateringly racist abuse when she was cast in Ghostbusters. Game of Thrones fans. Justin Beiber fans. Ghostbusters fans. TV. Music. Films. Is it beginning to sound ridiculous yet? Does it sound insane?

To an entitled fan (of which I very much was one when I was 11) it’s perfectly reasonable. To someone who replaced a personality for a fandom, to see something even slightly out of step of what they envisioned their chosen life to be is a personal, scathing insult. I think Ed Sheeran ruined Game of Thrones! It doesn’t matter that it was a short cameo and mainly for the benefit of a young actress on the show, it destroyed the realism of my dragon story! To Twitter, for I must call him a hateful slur to the online equivalent of his face! Twenty people liked that hateful slur, I shall hurriedly create another, more elaborate hateful slur! Forty people liked it! I’m winning the hateful slur game, hurrah! If I’m lucky, my hateful slur will end up on Celebrity’s Read Mean Tweets, then I shall be the God of the internet for the day!

And oh my God have entitled fans turned Star Wars into a hellscape. The conspiracy theories, the abuse, the endless, endless videos about why The Last Jedi was awful and horrible and the worst thing since the Black Death. And entitled Star Wars fans, who believed they owned a film created for children but it had the audacity, the sheer nerve to cater to audiences beyond aging men and branch out into further, better representation for groups of people who are different from them, chose to lash out at actors, the director, the producer, anyone they could get their hands on. Kelly Marie Tran is gone from Instagram and I’d bet my cat on people being smugly triumphalist over it. They proved they were right to themselves when the stories hit and the other side of the Star Wars divide cried shame, just much too late. The trolls were allowed to fester like an infection, and it feels like they’ve killed any joy left in being a Star Wars superfan.

When I was a Lord of the Rings fan, it was fun. So was being a Harry Potter fan, a Discworld fan, a Game of Thrones fan, a Marvel fan, a jazz fan, a Hamilton fan, an Assassin's Creed fan, a Rick and Morty fan and yes, a Star Wars fan. I was also a Sherlock fan, until it turned rubbish and utterly untethered from any known reality. I tweet at creators so I too can have a shot at a retweet, a like or maybe even a reply and be God of the internet for the day. But should I have leapt on Twitter and called Mark Gatiss a hateful slur because I didn’t like what he’d done with his show? Which, because I’d been a fan, I felt entitled to call my show too. That would have got more attention, I could have got my reply I desperately crave.

When I was 11, I felt like I owned Lord of the Rings. It was mine, and I was unnerved when anyone else I knew said they also liked it, because they couldn’t possibly like it as much as me. They weren’t real fans, not like me (I didn’t read the books until I was 23 by the way, I was a pretty lousy Lord of the Rings superfan). These Star Wars fans probably feel the same way. These comer-ins with their feminist takes and intersectional diversity, they don’t know Star Wars, not properly. They didn’t spend their lives reading subpar novels and going to poorly attended conventions and sticking up for the prequels and becoming so overbearing about this one thing that it consumed their life so the only people they can have a proper conversation with are other people with their exact same experience. The director and cast, they’re not proper fans either, or they would have made the film thrashed out on Reddit two years previously, not whatever it was they threw out to the cinema. They don’t care, not like the real fans. Kelly Marie Tran needed to know exactly how much she didn’t care and how she personally ruined their Star Wars.

Yes, it was fun being a fan.

Until entitled fans ruined it.