So you've decided to watch Tom Cruise's MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE. Congratulations. You are about to witness one of the finest cinematic experiences of the twentieth century. Whether it was Mr. Cruise's handsome face, outlined against the Kiev sky, peering back at you from the video store shelves that brought you here, or perhaps vague, half-forgotten memories of the guy from "Biography" and some black dude, Paramount is required by law, as part of a lawsuit settlement with the states of Maine, Maryland, Arkansas, California, and parts of Guam, to inform you of ways to cope with emotions and conditions brought about by this motion picture, which has been proven to cause severe mental stress in rats. But, our lawyers said, rats are not the target audience for this film, particularly since this is a PG-13 film, and rats have a lifespan of five years at most, making them ineligible to purchase tickets. Also, rats are not well known for carrying hard currency or even credit cards. Both these arguments were rejected as legitimate defenses by the courts, although they do serve as powerful evidence of why we could use some new attorneys.

Rats and lawyers aside (preferably in the same locked room), fear not, movie fan. This is not an irretrievably horrible film along the lines of, say, CHARLIE'S ANGELS: FULL THROTTLE or WHITE CHICKS or DADDY DAY CARE, just to pick a few titles at random. No, MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE is a cinematic experience unlike any other. Except for the scenes that were ripped-off wholesale from TOPKAPI, SNEAKERS, and even DARKMAN. Why on earth anyone would rip-off DARKMAN, we have no clue. Isn't that redundant? Isn't that a bit like ripping-off a third grader's pencil sketch of the Mona Lisa? Regardless, MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE is a fine, fine film, and you should be practically wetting yourself in anticipation of viewing it.

First, however, a word of caution: It will make no sense whatsoever. None. Not a lick.

Having chosen this film, we can assume that you are, no doubt, an intelligent person, one who likely has a firm grasp of nuanced issues and concepts. And yet, you will still watch this film with much the same look on your face as your dog when you try to explain why he shouldn't chew on your end table. You could be an expert on the great literature of the Renaissance. You could be fluent in dozen languages. You could even have a thorough understanding of Einstein's theory of relativity (general and special). You will not understand this film. It. Can't. Be. Done.

Not at first, that is.

Upon first viewing this film, at about the half-hour mark, you will likely feel highly bewildered. This is the first stage of viewing MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE, confusion, and is completely normal. Try and avoid operating any heavy machinery or signing any binding legal documents. You may be prone to extended bouts of crying and/or incontinence. Do not panic. Your mind is merely attempting to grapple with questions like, "What the hell is going on? Who are these people? Why is Tom Cruise dressed up like Strom Thurmond?"

This phase will likely continue through the rest of the movie, and in some cases can last for up to four years. Again, this is normal. Inconvenient (particularly the incontinence), but normal. Eventually, you will move on to the second phase, fear, after it begins to occur to you that perhaps MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE makes perfect sense, and thus it must be you that is somehow defective. Although you may know logically that there is likely nothing wrong with you, MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE has put you in a highly emotional state, where you are incapable of behaving rationally. In this stage, it would be best to dim your lights, put on some Allman Brothers, and perhaps call your mother. Everything will be fine.

Once you have overcome your fear, you are now ready to watch the film again. This will surely lead to the next stage, anger. "So," you shout at no one in particular, "they're hiring crack addicts to edit films these days, huh?" The sad truth is, yes. As a cost-cutting measure, Paramount has begun recruiting our editors from crack houses and meth labs across the country. Usually they just pawn the equipment, but sometimes they produce real works of art, like RUGRATS IN PARIS.

Once this anger subsides, you will most likely move on to the next stage: disappointment. This stems from the sinking feeling that you've now used up four hours of your life watching Tom Cruise trying to outsmart the guy who made BABY GENIUSES II. Do not give into despair, however. You aren't going to let them win, are you? No! Instead, rush headlong into the next phase, alienating your friends and loved ones while you devote your life to understanding MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE, to be immediately followed by the sixth and seventh phases, hardcore alcoholism and complete denunciation of Tom Cruise and everything he stands for.

At this point, most people simply give up, or become film editors. And why not? They've been through a lot. They've watched a relentlessly dark, utterly incomprehensible film three or more times. It's taken them over, run them into the ground. Made them a shadow of their former selves. At this point, it's finally time for the next phase, rediscovering joy. The world, suddenly, has color again. No more does it seem to be filled with backstabbing bureaucrats and Emilio Estevez.

And then, one day, it happens: You're flipping through cable and you see Ving Rhames. But it's not PULP FICTION or "Kojak," it's MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE. You almost change the channel, but something strange is going on: Things are actually making sense. Sort of. You still have no idea why the guy shoots that girl, but you're pretty sure that Tom is trying to sell some sort of list so he can uncover a mole. Then again, it could just as easily be portraying the life of Marie Curie in interpretive dance. You have to be sure. You rent the movie again. At last, after all these years, you're ready for the final phase: comprehension.

That's right: The plot makes sense! Jon Voight was the mole! His wife was in on it! The French guy was a plant! Of course, the finale on the train is utterly ludicrous and absurd, but you now know that it's supposed to be!

Congratulations! You have accomplished something that many have tried but few have managed. You've unlocked one of the great mysteries of the universe. Be prepared for all sorts of things to become clear to you now: the path to inner peace, the nature of God, the enduring appeal of "According to Jim."

But don't get cocky. Remember: There's still the sequel.

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