Kathryn Bigelow makes Point Break thrilling enough to survive its foolish dialogue. Keanu Reeves and Patrick Swayze make the attraction between lawman and surfer convincing, even when the spiritual talk deserves no such courtesy.
Point Break understands why somebody might want to stop being sensible, and Kathryn Bigelow makes that temptation thrilling. The surfing, the danger and the fascination between its leading men all belong to the same story: a respectable job starts to look less appealing beside a life organised around excitement. We recommend it warmly, with a warning about the dialogue. W. Peter Iliff’s screenplay gives its characters plenty to say about freedom, and remarkably little of it survives a moment’s thought.
Keanu Reeves is useful casting as Agent Johnny Utah because his earnestness makes the attraction plausible. He gives Utah enough openness for Patrick Swayze’s Bodhi to influence him without making the agent seem empty. Swayze takes the surfer’s spiritual talk seriously, which is essential; a wink would let us dismiss him and leave Utah looking foolish. Gary Busey, as Agent Angelo Pappas, supplies a welcome change of company, with a liveliness that keeps the official side of the story from becoming mere waiting time.
Donald Peterman’s cinematography makes the surfing exciting through the movement of bodies, with enough physical detail to explain the appeal of this life. We were exhilarated by it: for those stretches, Utah’s fascination made complete sense to us. Howard E. Smith’s editing sustains that feeling through the action, letting speed build without making the individual feats seem disposable. The skydiving carries the same charge, although we never found the pursuit of bigger thrills quite as interesting as the people wanting them.
Peter Jamison’s production design serves the bank-chase material well, giving the action places we can understand while the people are moving through them. That clarity matters in a film with so much else competing for attention. Mark Isham’s score helps give the danger emotional weight, and we think the seriousness is justified by the attraction between Utah and Bodhi. Bigelow needs us to feel the temptation, even while the words make us doubt the wisdom of anybody experiencing it.
The trouble comes when Iliff tries to explain what the action has already made clear. Bodhi’s mystical pronouncements offer little to think about, and the macho talk can make these men seem less individual than the performances suggest. The plot’s implausibilities become more noticeable whenever the pace eases. At 122 minutes, the film gives us enough time to notice how often a speech is doing work a look might have managed.
The film is unusually comfortable letting admiration between men become difficult to separate from desire. Bigelow gives that attraction room without stopping to tell us what to call it. This makes it more interesting than an action thriller whose hero merely needs to become tougher, and helps explain why the casting matters as much as the stunts. There is pleasure in watching Reeves be susceptible to somebody, particularly when Swayze can make such nonsense sound worth considering. Choose it for the physical excitement; leave Bodhi’s philosophy unexamined.
