I am not familiar with Steve McQueen’s work, but now that I have seen the movie Shame I would like to see some of his other projects. The reason I say this is because I was once excited for the film. After seeing it, I felt as though I was deprived of something. My criticism of the film is not that it was too controversial or that there was too much sex and, “oh bother, my poor baby blue eyes that have never seen such disgusting acts will never be the same.” I certainly cannot complain about seeing Fassbender (all of Fassbender). My critique stems from what was lacking in the film—a story, a plot to complement the beautiful cinematography and acting that was present throughout the film. The problem comes from the borderline between when sex becomes art, and when sex is simply sex.

You know now that I’m sitting here thinking about it, I really don’t remember all that much about the previous Mission Impossible films. I remember the first one (which I should point out I haven’t seen since maybe a year after it was first released) was really confusing but it of course has several iconic scenes, such as the “oh god I have to be real quiet” scene and the “oh god a helicopter just blew up and threw me on to this speeding train” scene. The second one I remember was surprisingly boring but at the same time, way fucking ridiculous. Instead of kicking people like a normal person might, Tom Cruise would do unnecessarily elaborate shit like kicking off a guy’s chest and then doing a back flip in the air and kicking him in the face. Oh and doves. Doves flying in slow motion. I remember that quite well too. But I mean that’s a John Woo thing more than a Mission Impossible thing. The third one I remember enjoying, but I don’t recall almost any details except that Felicity was in it and Tom Cruise gets smashed into the side of a car by an explosion. Each movie is unique, and each one has its positives and negatives.

All that being said, for this fourth and latest installment, Ghost Protocol, I think I’ll primarily remember that moment where the entire film is really fucking good.

With talk of impending doom, the devastating effects of the changes in global climate, and the possible obliteration of the human race, it is only natural that these issues do not go unnoticed in the cinema. You will notice a trend as films begin to work these topics into their plot. Lars von Trier’s Melancholia does just that, and through its visually stunning cinematography, elite cast, and writing, it conjures up a sense of panic and anxiety as we the audience anticipate the possible collision of the Earth and another planet, Melancholia, in their “dance of death.” Lars von Trier is different in his approach, however, neglecting the social panic that characterizes end of world films and denying us conventional scenes of oncoming devastation. There are no newscasts documenting the planet’s approach and possible collision, no shots of deserted streets, and no jumping from person to person as we see their means of understanding obliteration. Instead, von Trier focuses on a small group of people, and more specifically, on the relationship between two sisters. He very skillfully reveals the relationship between the characters, and information regarding the approach of the newly discovered planet unfolds at a slow pace. The information is succinct with no elaborate scientific explanations: we know there is a planet hidden behind the sun and it is moving towards the earth. The characters, who we can only assume have this limited information, continue to participate in the tasks that define their quotidian experience.

At times, we, the audience, must wonder what inspires a director, a writer, and actor to pursue a certain film. At the same time, we must ask ourselves what drives us to the cinema. I recently saw the film, The Skin I Live In, featuring Antonio Banderas as a studious doctor (Robert Ledgard) helpless to the needs of his psychologically traumatized daughter, but persistent in his aim to punish the boy who so mistreated her. If you watch the trailer, you get the sense that Banderas is simply a mad man, obsessed with his work, and eager to achieve the impossible through science and medical discovery. But as you sit down to watch the film you realize that there is more to this story than meets the trailer. The plot can, at times, be so farfetched, that one is compelled to laugh at the dramatic circumstances of the characters rather than sympathize with their misfortunes. The dialogue, as well, can move you to laughter. The writing is often melodramatic, leaving the film to appear more like a soap opera than a thriller. Jumping from present to past then back to present makes the film a little choppy, but it has its perks. It keeps you guessing until about half-way through the movie, the secret is revealed (and oh what a secret it is!) and you realize that there is more behind the mysterious, restless leading lady (Elena Anaya) than you expected.