Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol
Despite the constant naysayers trying to convince Cruise-enthusiasts such as myself that he's a loony munchkin who keeps his android alien "daughter" locked beside his trophy wife in a cage under his solid-gold mansion, the anticipation for this fourth instalment in the Mission: Impossible series has been palpable. Why? Because we haven't had a proper action film all year and no matter what people think of his personal life, Tom Cruise is still a magnetic, likeable and thoroughly awesome screen presence. And luckily, no-one believes that more than the man himself which is proven the minute "A TOM CRUISE PRODUCTION PRODUCED BY TOM CRUISE STARRING TOM CRUISE" flashes across the screen in some gaudily awful font.
The series has had its ups (M:I, M:I3) and downs (vomit-inducing Woo-fest M:I2) and by all accounts the punctuation greedy M:I-GP is smacked somewhere in the middle as it's a generally fun romp with one spectacular set piece lumbered by a disappointing third act Paula Patton's bra strap can't carry. It all feels very pieced together; the threat of nuclear war, a boring foreign baddie, a plot twist and sexy locations make it very pleasing to the eye but once those eyes exit the cinema and the squishy bit behind starts thinking it all falls apart. Everyone only has themselves to blame since the most exciting and vertigo-inducing scene in the film takes place in the middle and everything after that (sans Patton's massive post-preggo boobs) feels a bit meh. The Burj Khalifa stunt in Dubai is utterly spectacular and it makes it even better that Cruise - THE FUCKING MENTAL - did it all himself. And you can tell he really enjoyed it too.
It's genuinely worth the admission price alone (especially on an IMAX screen) and is much more enticing than the poster of Simon Pegg playing Alec Baldwin in a particular difficult game of Words With Friends.
Oh yeah, he's having a jolly good think, which is the exact opposite of what you should do when watching this.