As
I re-watch the Mission Impossible movies in anticipation of the final
instalment's release later this year, I recently revisited the second part.
When it first hit theatres in 2000, it was hailed as the gold standard of
action movies—at least in India. The adrenaline-pumping sequences from the film
became so iconic that several Indian films and shows tried to emulate them.
Though I didn’t watch it upon release, I saw it a few years later and, like
many others, was swept away by its sheer excitement.
But
then the Mission Impossible series kept evolving, and with each new
movie, it seemed to only get better. The films began weaving in real
geopolitical issues while deepening the personal struggles of the characters,
especially Ethan Hunt. When I revisited MI:2 now, however, I was in for
a shock. The film that once seemed like the pinnacle of action cinema now felt like
a big (for the year 2000) and dumb movie. The tone felt completely out of sync
with the films that followed, and Ethan Hunt’s character was almost
unrecognizable—he acted and fought in ways that didn’t align with what we came
to know as his true self. If the series had ended with Part 2, it would’ve been
a fun, standalone ride, but as a chapter in a larger saga, it felt disjointed.
One
ridiculous part was the film’s depiction of an injectable nano-GPS device that
could track people via a single laptop—an absurd premise, especially given how
GPS technology works in the real world. The first movie had its own ridiculous sci-fi
moments with the Intel 686 AI-enabled chip, but that is all right!
So
why was I shocked by this? The movie was exactly what it was before, yet my
perception had changed. I was astonished by the inaccuracies in my own
memories. It struck me that what we remember is not necessarily the truth of an
event, but rather our perception of it—shaped by our biases and worldviews,
which evolve over time. Watching MI:2 made me question: what else in
life have I misremembered?
Recently,
I read Stumbling on Happiness by renowned psychologist Daniel Gilbert.
Contrary to what the title suggests, it’s not a guide to finding happiness, but
rather a deep dive into the limitations of our foresight. The central thesis is
that if our memories are inherently flawed, how can we trust our predictions
for the future? This misalignment is what leads us to pursue things we think
will bring us happiness, only to realize, once we achieve them, that they
aren't what we truly want.
The
key takeaway here is that we’re all subject to our biases, and our plans will
never be perfect. But by acknowledging the flaws in our thinking, we can become
more accepting of ourselves. And perhaps, in doing so, we get a little closer
to understanding what true happiness is.
