Even before the first frame, Mission: Impossible III starts with a bang. In this case, the sound of an explosive device being inserted into the nasal cavity of super-agent, Ethan Hunt (Cruise). The film starts as it means to go on, and on it does go. MI:3 is about as subtle as you’d expect from one of the largest block-busting franchises: colour, noise, guns, explosions, more noise, big machines, even more guns and more noise until you scream for mercy. Understatement is not a requirement of the Impossible Missions Force, so don’t expect it.

Gone is any pretence of the original TV series, or the original film for that matter, as Hunt goes on the, er, hunt for another international bogeyman (here played with some panache by recent Academy Award winner, Phillip Seymour Hoffman). He’s a refining balance for a story on steroids, enabling it to take an occasional pause to reflect on the art of acting. Cruise, bless him, does what he can, running from scene to scene, grimacing here, flashing the golden smile there. Of course, there’s no time for nuance when his new wife (Monaghan) is in peril and there are missiles to dodge, helicopters to avoid and buildings to jump from. Not to mention the troubling matter of an explosive inside his head.

Abrams, the creator of Alias and Lost, doesn’t waste effort with sophistication. This is a big action, all nonsense spectacular with a passing nod at humanity that keeps it from the edge of Bondian villainry. It’s Mission: Impossible and with that in mind, it’s mission: accomplished.

// COLIN FRASER