There is a memorable scene in the first installment of the final Mission: Impossible film where thousands of government workers sit in a huge room transferring digital files to plain white paper using old-fashioned typewriters. A super-intelligent algorithm known as the Entity—an omniscient, omnipresent form of artificial intelligence—has escaped its constraints (thanks, Russians), ripped through the world’s computer networks, and stands ready to rule the planet. The only way to slow it down is to unplug government computers and go analog, but it’s no use. By the time the second installment opens, the Entity has all but taken over the world’s nuclear weapons and turned them on our own heads.
Mankind stares the apocalypse in the eye. Only one man can stop it. Time is running out. Cue Lalo Schifrin theme music…
There’s no denying Mission: Impossible – Final Reckoning is a very good action movie. It suffers from a slow beginning, some silly dialogue, and an absurdly-long runtime, but the stunts are incredible (it’s one of the most expensive films ever made, so they better be) and one montage of Tom Cruise doing the Tom Cruise thing at the bottom of the ocean had me on the actual edge of my seat. (I won’t spoil it.) The grand finale is nothing less than a paean to human endurance.
But the really interesting thing about the movie is the way it captures the zeitgeist of a world in flux. I wasn’t expecting the last film of a rip-roaring spy franchise to explore the deep-seated fears of a technological revolution we can’t stop; yet it does, and very effectively. Academy Award-winning writer and director Christopher McQuarrie deserves credit for giving us a plot ripped straight from the headlines—and, as it turns out, the scriptures.
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Allow me to run through a quick survey of the film’s religious symbolism, which is everywhere.
There’s the looming apocalypse which hangs over everything, depicted in a flash-forward sequence as a global nuclear holocaust brought on by the Entity. There’s the battle of good and evil, with Cruise’s Ethan Hunt—an obvious Christ figure—tasked with saving the human race from an invisible, malevolent foe. Hunt’s mission is to locate and unify two halves of a lost key (aka reconcile heaven and earth) to restore peace to the cosmos. But first he must flee to the desert, resist the temptations of ultimate power, descend to the depths of Sheol, and ascend to the heights of heaven. No matter the pain, no matter the sacrifice, he’s ready to lay down his life for his friends.
There are the feckless leaders of the world’s nations, chieftains of a fallen and pathetic race who cling to power even in the face of calamity. The Entity threatens them all, but none are willing to unplug their nuclear arsenals for fear of the others gaining an edge. Their insecurities and ambitions are what make the Entity’s plan possible, yet they’re the sinners Hunt came to save.
Then there’s the Entity itself, a “godless, stateless, amoral enemy” who wants to destroy humanity for, well, no discernible reason. The characters talk about it as an “Anti-God” and about its “chosen messenger” Gabriel (Hunt’s well-dressed and more visible nemesis) as a “dark messiah.” Like Satan, the Entity prosecutes its battle by attacking truth. And soon, a cult of wild-eyed fanatics emerges to worship it. Hunt’s bosses want to control the Entity, but Hunt alone, unswayed by power, sees clearly: No one can be trusted with control of the knowledge of good and evil. The Entity must be destroyed. And after a heroic battle, Hunt does just that, slaying the Antichrist character and consigning the Anti-God to a digital bottomless pit.
Stripped of its rubber masks and eye-popping stunts, the last Mission: Impossible movie probes some of the deepest questions of 2025. We all sense that AI will overturn the world as we know it. We know it will bring much good, but that human beings, being human, will inevitably use it for ill. The twin forces unveiled in the Garden of Eden—man’s rightful dominion of the planet and his stubborn penchant for evil—seem bound, given enough time, to destroy everything.
There are moments in the film when this depressing insight seems to dawn on the characters, prompting looks of shock, resignation, and defeat. “It is written,” Gabriel sneers, confident in his master’s ability to calculate and control all possible futures. Some of the good guys sum it up more simply as “Checkmate.” Confronted by this vast and hideous strength, even the unflappable Mr. Hunt looks tempted to throw in the towel. The Entity is just too strong. There’s no way to win.
The film’s melancholic spirit doesn’t just flow from its apocalyptic plot. There’s also the context of a much-beloved 30-year franchise coming to an end, a franchise whose origins lie in the quaint old days of the Clinton administration. McQuarrie works hard (perhaps too hard) to revive past characters, link new plot elements to old ones, and give the whole franchise a higher meaning. This wasn’t just an action series, he wants to say. This was a tale about the fate of humanity.
Of course, it’s mostly been a vehicle for Tom Cruise, the “last movie star” whose Jackie Chan-like determination to perform his own stunts made Mission: Impossible a cash cow for Paramount. But Cruise, now 62, looks tired. He maintained his pluck far longer than his peers, but the signs of wear and tear are finally starting to show. The body can only go so far. Now in the twilight of life, Cruise, a Scientological messiah-figure in his own right, seems to realize that even he can’t win.
Consequently, the film is pervaded by the nostalgic uneasiness of an old world slipping away; and because this uneasiness is linked to a villain which threatens our real-life world, it hits especially hard. In a final montage, the good guys have an awkward rendezvous in a London square where they flash wordless smiles at each other and walk off in different directions. The scene is meant to give closure, but the smiles come off weary and unsettling. The characters seem to know their victory is a Pyrrhic one.
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I’m as concerned about the AI revolution as anyone. Putting aside the national security challenges, there is the loss of purpose caused by the elimination of millions of jobs, the distortion of truth in media, and the likelihood that humans will turn to AI as a new source of revelation. Given the much sillier things we’ve bowed to over the millennia, there’s a good chance some of us will come to worship it.
It’s the ultimate Frankenstein’s monster, and our leaders must act boldly to mitigate the risks. But though we must be wise, we needn’t fear. We’ve seen this movie before.
Many Christians forget that the apostles held to what might be called a double-movement of history, predicting that things would simultaneously get better and worse until history’s climax. No matter how smart AI gets or how many nuclear weapons there are, Christ will return in victory to resolve it all. That is, in fact, written. We already believe there is a malevolent, invisible super-intelligence seeking to destroy us; we also believe that we’ll win. Imbued with that confidence, we should be the last to lose our heads.
The AI revolution has all the makings of something catastrophic. But catastrophes aren’t new for the Christian, who goes to bed knowing the sun will still rise because the God of history will make sure of it. Every catastrophe contains the seeds of the next miracle.
Leaving the theater, I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of thousands of bureaucrats pounding furiously on their typewriters. Maybe it’s just me, but if the advent of superintelligent AI means an eventual return to the analog world of the 1990s, this all feels a lot less threatening. Typewriters, VHF radios, paper and pens—now that’s an apocalypse I can live with.
