I'm gonna hurt her...
(Josh's post at TA reminded me to write this.)
If there has been anything blatantly ostracized in the last two Mission Impossible films, it has been their examples of villainy. I point you to Exhibit A: Jon Voight. Aside from being completely non-existent in the first film, he is barely threatening when finally revealed. Worse, the film never establishes a leering threat or sense of danger in lieu of Voight. This isn’t nearly as bad as the second film, when there was an onscreen villain: Dougray Scott. In establishing his villainy, John Woo and the film’s writers made the bold choice of using every bad-guy trademark in the book. Of course, it didn’t help that Scott appeared completely non-threatening and disinterested in his performance.
Sadly, there was never any doubt that Cruise’s character, Ethan Hunt, would prevail over these largely unintelligent, boorish representations of espionage villainy.
Now, we cut to Exhibit C, the intro of Mission Impossible III:
No immediate title sequence, no TOM CRUISE in big bold letters (immediately)…And no operatic music. It opens on Hunt strapped to a chair. Beaten, bleeding…with tears in his eyes. In front of him sits his wife, also tied to a chair. Duct tape muffles her sobs of distress. Standing over her with a gun…is Philip Seymour Hoffman.
“You have 10 seconds to give me the Rabbit’s Foot, or I shoot her.”
For the record, bad guys count to ten all the time. But they never shoot the girl. In fact, they hardly ever finish counting to ten. What’s more, the previous two films established bad guys in this series as being threatening, but never really serious. Hoffman’s character, Owen Davian? He is serious. He does get to ten.
And then he shoots her.
This is an incredible contrast to the opening of the previous two films. It is also a commentary on the talent behind this installment, J.J. Abrams. Instead of opening with an edgy rock-climbing sequence or a flashy sting-operation, Abrams decides to open the film in close-quarters with a heated interplay between the good-guy and the bad-guy. Despite the lack of stunts or loud atmosphere, this opening is a thousand times more enthralling than the introductory sequences of the previous two. And this is a standard of Abrams’ that stands true throughout most of the film in fact.
Abrams, noted for his work on the television series Lost, understands what draws an audience in. He knows that you simply cannot pack on mindless action sequence after mindless action sequence; an audience demands well-written, well-performed characters. Abrams used this to his advantage on Lost, and in Mission Impossible III he shows that he still uses character as his strong suit.
Now, that isn’t to say that in choosing character over action, Abrams completely nullifies the thrills demanded of a big-budget action flick. On the contrary - In choosing character, he amplifies these thrills. Surprisingly, Abrams action sequences are largely the same as those featured in the previous two films (I’ll even say that some of them are not as distinctive or iconic as the last two’s). But they are far more effective because they involve characters we care for. The end result is all the more crushing, all the more harrowing, impressive CGI or not. This movie underscores Abrams’ value in character.
And Hoffman’s Davian and Cruise’s Hunt are simply the prime examples of Abrams’ interest in character. 
An example: Hunt, in the last two films, was a jet set, standoffish super-spy who loved the thrill of his work. So, you know…he was basically Tom Cruise. Abrams’ Hunt however, has settled down. He can still take on the world and then-some, but he’d much rather grab a bag of ice, put on a record and spend the rest of the evening at home with his girl (Notice the singular on girl, not the plural.)
Beyond that, Abrams allows Cruise’s performance a sense of weary acceptance at the impossible stunts unfolding before him. Woo’s Hunt treated the stunts and near death experiences as an extreme sport. Abrams’ Hunt, on the other hand, approaches the whole ordeal with a rushed sigh.
Regarding Davian, Hoffman plays the character minus the quiet intensity and hollow threats of his predecessors. He is not in control of his emotions, he doesn’t like being put on the defensive, and he has absolutely no qualms about hunting people down (brutally) to get what he wants. And that is what is so delightful about his character – he has something he wants. And since he has a need that stands in stark contrast to Hunt’s, the movie has plenty of time to unfold some fun sequences around their rivalry (a rivalry that Davian beautifully takes straight into Hunt’s personal life).
With two tightly written characters, it’s even more of a treat to be able to say that the whole film is pretty tight. There’s nothing extraneous about the whole ordeal, nothing breathless. It moves quickly, with razor precision, but also takes time to connect us to the protagonist. It’s beautiful to look at, never takes itself too seriously, and rarely spoon-feeds itself to the audience. Sure, it’s not brain-food, but the creative team understands that it doesn’t have to be. Abrams even manages to sneak a MacGuffin into the film…a true tip of the hat to the grand master.
One of my minor quibbles about the film is something I heard in another review: it’s a shame this is the third one and not the first.
