‘Mission: Impossible’: THR’s 1966 Review

Long before Ethan Hunt, there was Daniel Briggs. On Sept. 17, 1966, CBS debuted spy series Mission: Impossible during the 9 p.m. hour. The show set up Steven Hill as secret agent Briggs, but Hill only lasted a single season of the show’s seven-year run. The franchise would later jump from small to big screen when Tom Cruise’s Hunt launched Mission in theaters 30 years after it first debuted on TV. The Hollywood Reporter’s original review of the series is below:

When TV audiences get to know secret agent Dan Briggs (Steven Hill) and share his confidence, they’ll probably like this new Saturday night series from Desilu. Jump-off episode, it seemed, kindled a nervous worry instead of suspense. Maybe strain was due to inevitable comparison with long established cloak-and-dagger scientists in this territory. As it started out, Hill gave impression of being lucky rather than resourceful.

Nevertheless, Hill gave a commanding performance. What he did was okay. His problems were tough and solved dangerously, if conveniently, as required by producer-writer Bruce Geller’s teleplay.

International skullduggery in this case concerned the retrieving of two nuclear warheads from a treacherous Caribbean dictatorship. Hill, main spring of hush-hush “Impossible Missions Force,” moved into fictitious Santa Costa with his confederates, Martin Landau, magician-disguise expert; Barbara Bain, glamor gal; Greg Morris, electronics wizard; Peter Lupus, strong man; Wally Cox, safe cracker.

How expressionless lads gumshoed into dictator’s (Landau’s dual role) headquarters to heist warheads from time-lock vault and scram the island took imagination, guts and good fortune; and making a cohesive thriller out of all this was director Bernard Kowaiski’s assignment. He did a forthright job.

Show had continuous action and first rate production values. Main story device was a good one. Trick of smuggling Cox, inside a jeweler’s sample case, into the vault, generated excitement. Landau’s double performance was almost a show in itself. Miss Bain added a sexy flash. Morris contributed a logical note to sneaky goings-on, and Lupus made his silent bit seem credible.

Menace standout was Harry Davis, while top supporting roles were played by Paul Micale, Patrick Campbell, Fredric Villani and Joe Breen. Music by Lalo Schifrin, and John Alton’s photography were important assets. — Ed Olmstead, originally published on Sept. 19, 1966.