If the filmmaking isn’t always as structurally sound as the titular building, which spends a lot of the film’s runtime on fire without ever collapsing, Skyscraper at least has the benefit of looking every bit like the multi-million dollar endeavor it is. Cinematographer Robert Elswit captures a handful of genuinely alarming, palm-sweating perspectives throughout the film. Every time Johnson is in, on, or near the edges of the building, Elswit frames him as a small being in massive expanses, dwarfing even the muscular Johnson in so many frames. It’s a film custom-made to induce severe vertigo in audiences, particularly on bigger screens, and Thurber makes a meal out of these scenes. Some of the hand-to-hand action isn’t quite so visually confident (the film is immersed in the modern plague of quick-cutting fistfights muddying the action), but when the film goes big, it consistently delivers. That’s true of the film at large, which answers the question of what a feature-length movie built around the aesthetic of Tom Cruise’s Burj Khalifa gambit from Mission: Impossible Ghost Protocol would look like, and it’s particularly true of a climactic hall-of-mirrors sequence that hits the perfect sweet spot between fun and distractingly implausible.