MISSION: IMPOSSIBLE: The Complete Original Series - Blu-ray (Paramount/Desilu, 1966-1973) Paramount Home Video

A landmark in television history, ingeniously scripted and teeming in iconic episodes and performances from one of TV’s all-time great ensemble casts, Mission: Impossible (1966-1973) is a high-octane, thrill-a-minute caper franchise, long-since to have found its way into our collective cultural consciousness, if only for the newer generation as a lucrative film franchise with Tom Cruise at the helm. And while Cruise’s actioners have given new lease to the concept, it remains the brilliantly written launch and beyond to have endured the winds of change, and ripened into a best-beloved touchstone of TV programming. When CBS commissioned Mission: Impossible from Desilu for its fall line-up, the network was dead last in the Nielsen’s – a tide, quickly turned when the opening strains of Lalo Schifrin’s trademark theme first hit the airwaves. Throughout its lengthy run, Mission: Impossible earned a slew of Emmy nominations for Best Original Series. But despite its initial critical acclaim, it was really in Season 3, Mission: Impossible caught on as a formidable rating’s bonanza – by then, steadfast in its pulsating, if formulaic, adventures, steadily to shift away from the Cold War milieu, only partly to keep up with the ever-changing geo-political framework of the world at large. Over 7 seasons, and 171 episodes, Mission: Impossible blazed a trail, curiously at odds with the usual trajectory of a television series – holding the record for longest-running series until the mid-1990’s. But the real irony here is that it took 3 full seasons for Mission: Impossible to hit its stride. Today, a TV show has barely 3 episodes in which to hook its audience before the sponsors get nervous and pull the plug. For another, just as the show’s popularity was catapulted into the stratosphere, creative changes were being made – to style and content, but most importantly, to cast, proving so detrimental, the show had barely topped out when it suddenly began dramatically to lose steam and founder.

Inspiration for Mission: Impossible was split across several sources, one – ABC’s 21 Beacon Street, suing for plagiarism, but settling out of court. As a matter of record, that show’s story editor and pilot script writer, Laurence Heath later committed to several episodes for Mission: Impossible. But the show’s key writer, William Read Woodfield was also a devotee of David Maurer’s The Big Con (also, the inspiration for The Sting, 1973) with several of Mission: Impossible’s ‘homages’ bearing an uncanny resemblance to the plots in Maurer’s book. The self-destructing tape-recording was actually lifted directly from Nick Carter-Killmaster 1964 novel, Saigon; Carter-Killmaster actually repeating himself for his follow-up, 1966’s Danger Key. A keystone series in television history, Mission: Impossible was also unique in that each week, Lalo Schifrin’s main title was punctuated with scenes from the episode about to unfold, the famous hand to light the fuse that kick-started each adventure, that of the show’s creator, Bruce Geller, and the scenes thereafter depicted, perfectly timed on the beat of Schifrin’s throbbing count. Schifrin’s title tune also marked a turning point in the critical perception of music’s place within a show; generally regarded before Mission: Impossible’s debut as not much more than an unobtrusive compliment. Comparatively, Schifrin’s main title set the stage for what follows, and, in fact, created the true beginnings of television theme-score-writing iconography.

Despite the show’s popularity, as its cast changed, CBS slashed the budget to economize where it thought it could and still see respectable numbers – a miscalculation that only saw a more precipitous decline. Looking back on the series now, it is easy to spot the missteps and misfires. Until Season 4, Mission: Impossible held steadfast to a truly inspired formula, begun with Schifrin’s jazzy intro to segue into an initial tape-recorded message, decoded by either their IMF’s Head of Operations, Dan Briggs (Steven Hill) or (after season one) his successor, Jim Phelps (Peter Graves). As the message was soon to self-destruct, the fate of the ‘mission’ was left in most capable hands. From here, Briggs and/or Phelps built their counter-espionage team from a dossier of skilled professionals – reoccurring faces, assembled, debriefed, and then, let loose to carry out the mission to a successful completion. As the full details of every mission were never entirely disclosed at the outset of each episode, the protagonists, as well as the audience were left cliff-hanging until after the final commercial break when all was revealed, usually in a flurry of action. The missions were never of the ‘cut and dry’ ilk, and neither were the ‘fly by the seat of your pants’ cast, surviving by their wits and a gentle massage of increasingly clever gadgets. Improvisation of the garden variety ‘last minute kind’ resulted in a few thrills along the way, with the audience eager to tune in ‘next week’ to experience the excitement all over again.

Each week, we were treated to high-spirited interventions from electronics specialist, Barney Collier (Greg Morris), the chameleon, Rollin Hand (Martin Landau), resident sexpot/schemer, Cinnamon Carter (Barbara Bain) and the muscle hired for each operation, Willy Armitage (ex-bodybuilder, Peter Lupus). It was a winning combo, and, it ought to have gone on indefinitely. Except that Landau (twice Emmy-nominated) and Bain (thrice, the winner) tried to play a little hardball for a higher salary; demands, instead met with indifference and their eventual ousting from the cast. So, Landau left after Season 3 and Leonard Nimoy debuted for seasons 4 and 5 as magician/impersonator, Paris. Oddly, Bain’s role remained unfilled, intermittently substituted with a bevy of beauties who failed to catch on – except for Lee Meriwether (who was spectacular as Tracey), alas, only to appear in 6 episodes – each, a dilly. In Seasons 5 and 6, Sam Elliott marked his debut as Dr. Doug Roberts (a character, initially pitched to replace Willy until producers recognized Lupus’ drawing power, and instead ditched Elliott. Season 5, also introduced the character of Dana Lambert (played rather awkwardly by Lesley Ann Warren). In the remaining seasons, Lynda Day George replaced Warren as cosmetologist and mistress-of-disguise, Lisa Casey; herself, replaced by Barbara Anderson as Mimi Davis in a handful of Season 7 episodes, during George’s real-life maternity leave. In the end, only Greg Morris and Peter Lupus saw the original franchise through to its final network airing; Morris, returning in the brief revival of the franchise, with his own son, Phil, cast as the character’s son, Grant Collier – a fledgling IMF agent.

Although a thread of Cold War subtext permeated the entire franchise, the real Cold War was rarely covered, even mentioned, with the later years more circumspect about avoiding direct references to Eastern Bloc nations or targeted Communist leaders of thinly fictionalized Slavic countries. The branding of these also proved a curiosity, as in the ‘European People's Republic’ or ‘Eastern European Republic’, with hints tossed toward Russia and Romania in particular, without actually ever mentioning either by name.  Enemy combatants frequently affected uniforms and accents of a lingering connection to Nazi Germany. Diversifying the enemy, Mission: Impossible also engaged its team in ‘assignments’ (code for assassinations) to topple Third World despotic leaders, usually set in some forgotten South American principality, involved in illegal human trafficking or slavery. The revival of the Nazi party was also the subject of several episodes with Rollin Hand called to impersonate key party officials. And further still, several episodes took dead aim at home-grown organized crime, corrupt businessman and politicians working from within to derail democracy in the United States. As the unwritten laws of TV-land back in the day would not permit the outright promotion and/or glorification of any branch of the U.S. government involved in political assassinations, the IMF’s objective was whitewashed with the social conscience, to liberate the people in these rogue nations, inciting insurrectionary ‘overthrow’ as a matter of justice. Even the level of violent exchanges with guns was tempered, or rather, used as a last resort, only when more sophisticated means of achieving the mission peaceably had been exhausted.

In Season 5, Paramount took over ownership of the franchise, appointing producer, Bruce Lansbury, who steadily phased out these international missions, though not for altruistic or creative reasons. Indeed, re-creating an international backdrop was costly. So, more home-grown undertakings were developed, shot in familiar U.S. settings – virtually, all of them staged somewhere in Southern California. Herein, the backdrop of ‘the mob’ – earmarked in the series as ‘the Syndicate’ – proved the most obvious perpetrator for the IMF to go after. To mitigate ‘star salaries’, Lansbury also tried to ‘phase out’ Peter Lupus’ Willy Armitage in favor of Sam Elliott’s Dr. Roberts – a decision that backfired when outraged fans wrote in their displeasure at Lupus’ absence from 11 of Season 5’s episodes, necessitating his full-time return to the series in Season 6. To Mission: Impossible’s ever-lasting detriment, cast turnover was never explained as key figures suddenly departing the franchise, never again to be referenced, even in a flashback.  

Viewed today, one has to continue to admire Mission: Impossible for its expertly written and diverse story-telling, based on a theme. Think it easy to write a ground-breaking weekly spy/thriller series and keep all the variables in play for 7 years? Try it sometime. Since ‘officially’ retiring from the screen in 1973, Mission: Impossible has never been off the air, its syndication creating a ground-swell of interest for a revival franchise. This eventually became a reality in 1988, after a decade-long debate on how best to proceed. Throughout this interim, several actual ‘reunion’ shows with the original cast were planned, then scrapped by Paramount due to budgetary concerns. When Mission: Impossible did resurface after the writer’s strike in 1988 as a full-fledged reboot, the results were not what either Paramount or fans had hoped. Although Peter Graves marked his return as Phelps, the rest of the cast was comprised of newbies who failed to make a splash. To prune the show’s budget, Paramount shot it in Queensland, Australia – shaving roughly 20% off the top. The plan, merely to resurrect the original show, with only modest updates made to the cast and storylines, was then given over to an entirely different cast and new adventures. These, alas, never recaptured the magic or spirit of the original show.  As such, the new series was not a hit – its cost-cutting measures, impactful on the overall quality. Also, in an attempt, perhaps, to appeal to the MacGyver age in which the new series found itself, the IMF agents were now called upon to employ all manner of SFX-laden gadgetry to get the job done – technology used sparingly in the original series as the agents generally relied on their wits and muscle to see them through their ventures in international espionage.

Yet, even with the passage of time, and maturation of audience’s ‘tastes’, Mission: Impossible remains a staple in pop culture, as notable for its action/adventures as its startling array of stars from stage, screen and the small screen, suddenly to appear in cameos – strikingly to add their refinement and artistry into this mix. And now, Paramount Home Video has finally released Mission: Impossible – the original series, in an accordion-styled storage box containing all 171 episodes (7 per disc), perfectly retaining the original 1.33:1 broadcast aspect ratio in full 1080p resolution. Image clarity and color fidelity are generally on point, with only the intermittent speckle of dust or very light scratch to intrude. While color balancing on many episodes is handsome, indeed – a handful look more careworn than they ought, with slightly faded/dated hues and oddly ‘out of focus’ optical blow-ups. This latter anomaly was likely baked into the original photography, cleverly shielded by the shoddy quality of then analog broadcast transmissions. In hi-def, there is nowhere to hide. And thus, the cost-cutting measures a la rear-projection and other ‘tricks’ of the trade really do stick out like the proverbial sore thumb today. Oddly, while the individual season DVD releases of Mission: Impossible included both original mono and rechanneled stereo options, this new-to-Blu launch contains ONLY 5.1 DTS audio, pre-empted by a rather annoying DTS-HD logo or every single episode. Yuck! Once, would have been enough. As Mission: Impossible was never intended to ‘impress’ with its sonic ambience, the 5.1 here is a bit of an overkill; the sides used sparingly and virtually all of the dialogue front-and-center. The audio has been scrubbed of age-related shortcomings, so it will surely impress. But purists will likely decry the absence of the authentic audio source recordings Paramount likely continues to maintain and could so easily have been reinserted herein. The biggest transgression: NO EXTRAS!!!! For a franchise as beloved and memorable as Mission: Impossible, Paramount’s decision to sidestep not even a single bonus feature – an audio commentary on various episodes from surviving cast and/or crew would have been nice – is fairly insulting. But hey, we won’t despair, if ‘the mountain’ continues to favor us with more of their TV back catalog in 1080p in complete box sets. I would already begin my petitions for Dynasty/Dynasty II: The Colbys, Frasier, Cheers, Laverne & Shirley and Happy Days…pretty please (and, just for starters!). Bottom line: highly recommended for the TV junkie in all of us. Mission: Impossible has never looked better. Not perfect – but very good, indeed.

FILM RATING (out of 5 – 5 being the best)

Seasons 1-4 – 4

Season 5 – 2.5

Seasons 6-7 – 3.5

VIDEO/AUDIO

3.5

EXTRAS

0 – for shame!!!