In 1996, I’d never heard of Brian De Palma.

My 12-year-old, budding cinephile self was, however, aware of Tom Cruise (thanks, Top Gun!) and fond of the few spy movies I’d seen. So, despite not knowing much about Mission: Impossible beyond its iconic theme song, I didn’t need any coaxing to see the summer’s big new action thriller.

Twenty-five years later, taking in my approximately 10th viewing of the film (via a new anniversary Blu-ray release), it’s somewhat shocking just how thoroughly De Palma’s fingerprints cover his biggest mainstream hit.

For years, I enjoyed Mission: Impossible primarily for its story, acting, and handful of memorable action set-pieces. It was these qualities that made the film a clear-cut choice the following January for my 13th birthday party, a co-ed gathering where boys and girls would be entertained — well, one girl in particular. Hopefully.

Then, circa 2015, my late mentor Ken Hanke began programming De Palma films on a regular basis for Asheville Film Society screenings, gifting me a crash-course in the director’s filmography. This education and Noah Baumbach’s and Jake Paltrow’s De Palma documentary gave me a strong appreciation for the auteur and his numerous distinct stylistic flourishes and central themes, and it’s been a delight to employ that more informed lens while revisiting the first films of his that I saw.

The results have been nothing short of revelatory. While a recent viewing of Scarface only slightly improved my opinion of the screenplay and performances, the plentiful complicated camera movements and thoughtful framing made it a far more enjoyable experience than the schlocky drug saga I’d taken it for nearly 20 years prior.

This go-round with Mission: Impossible, it’s somewhat ironic that the writing and acting feel less impressive — perhaps a De Palma equilibrium is being achieved? — though not to an extent that they detract from the core entertainment.

More than compensating for these “recessions” is the surplus of visual creativity, hiding in plain sights this past quarter century, yet obscured for these eyes until now. Reuniting with cinematographer Stephen H. Burum, his collaborator on such poppier fare as Body Double, The Untouchables, Raising Cain, and Carlito’s Way, De Palma dishes out first-person POV shots, split diopters, and a generally active camera whenever it might enhance a scene.

Such care is likewise evident on “filler” shots like the downward look at a building’s winding central staircase, where De Palma twists the camera and transforms a throwaway image into quietly thrilling filmmaking. He even gets in a new take on his beloved split screens with the computer monitor view of the Impossible Mission Force team’s live-feed perspectives, which feels obvious now but previously made zero impact on me.

Mission: Impossible likewise proves consistent with De Palma’s work on a thematic level, weaving in femme fatales who easily manipulate vulnerable men, and the complications that ensue. The scenario’s base emotions are further heightened by exaggerated suspense, most notably in the CIA vault heist sequence. The close-up droplet of sweat splashing on Ethan Hunt’s glove and the knife slowly falling from Krieger (Jean Reno) as he pulls Ethan into the ceiling could be from almost any previous De Palma thriller, especially one made with Burum. The same goes for the torturously slow-spinning helicopter blade in the film’s climax that’s dangerously fond of an immobile Ethan’s neck.

Nearly as mind-blowing is that all of the above and more occur in less than two hours — all but unheard of these days for a blockbuster, but the norm in the weeks leading up to the Atlanta Summer Olympics. The tight runtime only enhances Mission: Impossible’s appeal, but it’s the layered entertainment — capable of entrancing thrill-seeking preteens and craft-savvy 37-year-olds alike — that’s the true testament to De Palma’s greatness.

(Photo: Paramount Pictures)