Review
America
Culture
Film & TV
5 min read

Cutting America to the bone

Civil War warns against worshipping civic and political violence.

Chris Wadibia is an academic advising on faith-based challenges. His research includes political Pentecostalism, global Christianity, and development. 

An explosion occurs at the Lincoln Memorail
Civil War's finale in Washington DC.
A24.

The president of the United States is dead. The film Civil War culminates with soldiers of the Western Forces (a fictional secessionist group composed of California and Texas) posing for pictures with a presidential corpse just minutes after executing him. It’s a chilling climax, with optics reminiscent of American soldiers capturing deposed president of Iraq Saddam Hussein in 2003. The film ends with a warning. No democratic country, no matter the perceived strength of its institutions, is immune from tyranny, civil violence, and the bloody process of state failure. Collapse follows when states lose the capacity to provide solutions to the linchpin challenges negatively affecting their citizens. 

A strength of Civil War is the way it articulates a universal political message without defiling itself with the toxic hyper-partisanship asphyxiating real-world American society.  

It features a number of loyalist and secessionist geopolitical groups each motivated by a distinctive combination of social, economic, and political interests and goals. These groups include the Western Forces, Florida Alliance, New People’s Army, and Loyalist States.  

The film’s storyline prioritises a violently unfolding near future civil war in a United States whose president bucked constitutional tradition by remaining in office for a third term. The president, whose character is modelled after Donald Trump, is the villain of the film, despite being supported by over half of the 50 American states. The Western Forces function as the film's hero group. Unlike the mercilessly murderous and viciously xenophobic soldiers affiliated with the Loyalist States, the soldiers of the Western Forces treat an eclectic team of journalists and war photographers (the film’s main protagonists) with kindness and respect, allowing them to accompany them during the final stages of their assault on the White House and entrance into the belly of the beast, the Oval Office. 

The film includes shocking scenes that would make the most patriotic Americans shudder. Shortly after it begins, a suicide bomber associated with the Loyalist States, proudly carrying a large American flag, sprints into the centre of a group of vulnerable people, pleading with agents charged with guarding a water tanker, and detonates a bomb. Dozens of people including children are killed, many of whom were non-White Americans. This scene's power is that it bring home the threats Americans associate with foreign lands. Suddenly the menaces Americans instinctively link with states like Afghanistan, Burkina Faso, and Venezuela exist in cities like Charlottesville, New York, and Washington DC. America is no longer safe, and the threats have come from within instead of from abroad.  

The message of Christ applies to theocracies and secular states alike. Every state, regardless of its attitudes toward religion, has an interest in its people living together peacefully.

As an American watching this film from a cozy cinema in Oxford, I thought about how the violence, polarisation, and civic rage depicted in the film already exists in many forms in the country I love from a distance. Shootings, many of them mass in nature, happen every day in an America whose citizens are comfortable with violence but afraid of each other. The United States suffers from an embarrassingly high association with mass shootings, far more than whichever county manages to claim an ignominious second place. Whilst it is unlikely tanks and attack helicopters will surround the White House anytime soon, the casual spirit of violence that has overtaken American society already fosters a level of violence far above the threshold any twenty first century democratic state should tolerate.  

I watched this film as a proud American and as a committed Christian, a faith I share with many of my fellow American citizens. My Bible, and theirs, does say we are citizens of heaven” destined to enjoy an eternal posterity in a New Creation marked by perfect peace and prosperity. However, until Christ returns, and God remakes the cosmos, Christians do have a vital role to play in their everyday civic communities. Whilst Civil War offers a grim view of America’s immediate political future, that message of Christ contains the content needed to cure the gravest challenges bedevilling the United States. I remain optimistic. 

Not all Americans identify as Christians or even with organised religion; nevertheless, twentieth century history confirms that states that altogether ignore God will soon wither into an ecosystemic abyss of state-sponsored moral relativism that endorses the use of violence for an increasing, arbitrary range of unsuitable, injudicious, and illegitimate purposes. The message of Christ applies to theocracies and secular states alike. Every state, regardless of its attitudes toward religion, has an interest in its people living together peacefully. Humans need a moral system to provide them (as well as their societies at large) with at least a perceived sense of moral structure. Christ’s message articulates a concept of civic love that challenges the existing worship of civic and political violence. Christ argues that violence in moments of disagreement or dismay is never the appropriate option; the mark of genuine Christian devotion is revealed in the avoidance of violent action even when the use of violence would not categorically be condemned by observers. 

Civil War explains how multiple, competing Americas exist. These Americas have different cultures, economic capacities, and sociopolitical ideologies. It teaches that America’s main problem is Americans only love other Americans like them. A number of enclaves exist across American society. Cut off from each other, the development of these enclaves has led to the emergence of micro-Americas so distinctive from each other that some of them no longer view formal geopolitical ties with other micro-Americas as in their best interest.  

The same enclavisation portrayed in Civil War exists in the nonfictional, real-life America. However, unlike in the America depicted in the film, the real-life America still has time to solve its sociopolitical troubles and stop the American state from collapsing. I recommend Civil War to anyone interested in being entertained and warned by what a dystopian, worst-case-scenario of near-future American political activity might actually look like. 

Article
Character
Culture
Film & TV
Purpose
6 min read

Tom Cruise’s Ethan Hunt offers a blueprint for life

The latest in the Mission:Impossible franchise dares to ask some surprisingly existential questions

Krish is a social entrepreneur partnering across civil society, faith communities, government and philanthropy. He founded The Sanctuary Foundation.

Tom Cruise runs.
What happens we he stops running?

When it comes to action movies, most of us aren’t looking for philosophical musings as much as a dose of adrenaline-fuelled escapist entertainment. Few franchises understand this better than  Mission: Impossible, which has consistently delivered on that front—train wrecks, car chases, gun battles, bomb blasts, submarine fights, knife fights, fist fights, dog fights, and, of course, running. Lots of running. 

The latest blockbuster in the franchise, Mission: Impossible – The Final Reckoning — which Tom Cruise has suggested may be his last outing as Ethan Hunt — is no exception. But alongside its brilliantly choreographed action scenes, the film also dares to ask some surprisingly existential questions. 

Who wants to live forever? 

Tom Cruise has achieved legendary status not just for his acting, but for his relentless dedication to performing the most technically demanding stunts in cinema history. Over the years, he’s scaled the Burj Khalifa, clung to the side of a plane during take-off, parachuted from 25,000 feet, flown helicopters through perilous terrain, and held his breath underwater for more than six minutes—without a stunt double in sight. 

Now 62, Cruise would be forgiven for taking it easier. Instead, after performing in what one director has called the most ambitious stunt in cinematic history: launching a motorcycle off a cliff, a mid-air dismount, followed by a parachute drop in the previous movie, Cruise has upped the ante again by engaging in an aerial battle atop a biplane flying at 10,000 feet. This involved climbing onto the wing of a moving aircraft travelling at 145 mph enduring hurricane-force winds, while the pilot performed manoeuvres designed to dislodge him. 

Cruise has become something of a cultural symbol of immortality. His character, Ethan Hunt, continually evades death, rarely stopping to mourn the losses of others—even those closest to him. But this film feels different. It asks how long someone—real or fictional—can continue to outrun death. 

Watching Hunt - and Cruise - cheat death time and again may be entertaining, but it also taps into something deeper. A recent COMRES survey revealed that the top four human fears are all death-related: dying in pain (83 per cent), dying alone (67 per cent), being told they’re dying (62 per cent), and dying in hospital (59 per cent). Final Reckoning doesn't just distract us from these fears—it subtly forces us to confront them. No matter how fast, fit, or famous we are, none of us gets out alive. 

What is life really about? 

Because the line between Ethan Hunt and Tom Cruise is now so thin, Dead Reckoning plays almost like a eulogy to both. The film opens with a message of thanks from the President of the United States: 

“Good evening, Ethan. This is your President. Since you won't reply to anyone else, I thought I'd reach out directly. First, I want to thank you for a lifetime of devoted and unrelenting service… Every risk you've taken, every comrade you've lost, every personal sacrifice you’ve made, has brought this world another sunrise.” 

The sentiment feels a little self-indulgent. The camera rarely leaves Cruise, and nearly everything and everyone else feels like a garnish to his character. He gets the best lines, the best cars, the best love interests, the best scenes. At times, Dead Reckoning feels a little like Mamma Mia! — a loose thread of a plot connecting a series of spectacular set-pieces rather than musical numbers. 

Still, as the franchise nears its end, it’s bittersweet to say goodbye to a character who’s become part of global popular culture. And it prompts a deeper question: If we can’t look back on our lives and say we gave the world another sunrise, what does make a life well-lived—for those of us who don’t defuse nuclear bombs before breakfast? What have we personally sacrificed for the greater good?  

Who Is expendable? 

With a body count hovering around 500, the Mission:Impossible series has never shied away from collateral damage. Ethan Hunt has always been portrayed as someone willing to expense the few to save the many. 

But The Final Reckoning confronts that idea. It reintroduces William Donloe, a minor character from the original 1996 film, who was the CIA analyst that got reassigned to a remote outpost in the Bering Sea after Hunt famously infiltrated his high-security vault - in that iconic scene where Cruise is suspended from the ceiling, inches above a pressure-sensitive floor, and drops his commando knife, point-first, into the desk. Now, decades later, Hunt seeks him out to apologise. 

Surprisingly, Donloe responds with grace. He says the reassignment was the best thing that ever happened to him: it led him to meet the love of his life. Though he had lost everything in a house fire caused by Hunt’s team, he had managed to salvage the commando knife from the original vault heist and gives it back to Hunt as a token of his appreciation. 

This could have been a moment of genuine reflection for Hunt—a chance to reckon with the unintended consequences of his actions. Instead, it serves to reinforce the idea that even Hunt’s mistakes are somehow for the best. Hunt is presented as almost messianic—an infallible saviour whose instincts are always right. 

But this portrayal contrasts sharply with the biblical Messiah, who taught that no one is expendable. In Jesus’ teaching, every life matters, enemies are to be loved, and compassion is both the means and the end. The ends never justify the means. Love is the mission. 

Who Is my neighbour? 

One of the deeper themes of the film is the tension between loyalty to those closest to us and responsibility to the wider world. Hunt’s enemies consistently try to exploit his love for friends and family, exposing it as a vulnerability. On a number of occasions, the villains kidnap or threaten someone close to Hunt in order to manipulate him. He is faced with the dilemma - to save the one he loves, or to save everyone else? 

At one point, a character offers this reflection: 

“We all share the same fate—the same future. The sum of our infinite choices. One such future is built on kindness, trust, and mutual understanding, should we choose to accept it. Driving without question toward a light we cannot see. Not just for those we hold close, but for those we’ll never meet.” 

It’s a powerful line—one that challenges narrow tribalism in favour of a universal compassion. In recent years, some have tried to co-opt Christian ethics in support of nationalism, prioritising loyalty to family, faith, and country above all else. But this film’s ethos cuts across that narrative. 

In an age of toxic patriotism and growing division, it’s striking that an international superspy like Ethan Hunt seems to offer a profoundly global vision: act not only for those we love, but for the good of the whole world—even at great personal cost. 

Hunt’s worldview echoes a deeply biblical theology: every person has worth, and we’re called to love our neighbour—including those who don’t speak our language or share our culture. The franchise promotes a genuine Christian ethic of sacrificial love. And why not? At the heart of Christianity is the story of a God who sent His Son on a seemingly impossible mission to save the world. 

It’s hard to miss the moral and theological framework that underpins Final Reckoning. It is, perhaps, this foundation that makes Ethan Hunt’s character not only thrilling but deeply human. Amid the explosions, stunts, and spectacle, Mission: Impossible makes us think, and subtly reminds us that the greatest mission of all might be love. 

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