POINT BREAK is the one where Patrick Swayze heaves a pit bull at Keanu Reeves—and you’re, what—surprised that it’s become a cult film? The terrier toss occurs during a wild foot chase, which follows a car chase after a bank robbery, just one of a slew of adrenaline-torqued action sequences provided by pedal-upon-metal director Kathryn Bigelow. She shattered the glass ceiling in 1991 with the success of this zen-kinetic actioner that has zip to do with real world crime solving and everything to do with giving audiences an experiential thrill. Though the script, originally whipped up by W. Peter Iliff, then substantially rewritten by the director’s husband at the time, James Cameron, contains oodles of ‘deep’ philosophizing from its chief bad boy guru (and rogue insights, usually profanity soaked, from everyone else) its best to ignore the surf-porn blather and concentrate on the load locking required for the fast & furious fights and stunts that play out on land, sea and air.

“Sex with gods, you can’t beat that!”

Banks jobs are pulled out in sunny L.A., but none are so audacious as the lightning quick armed robberies carried off by an amped-up quartet of bandits wearing rubber masks of Presidents LBJ, Nixon, Carter and Reagan. New on the scene and to his job, FBI agent ‘Johnny Utah’ (Keanu Reeves) agrees with experienced agent ‘Angelo Pappas’ (Gary Busey) that the dudes behind the funny masks and rowdy ripoffs are surfers. Johnny is fit and game (he was a notable Ohio State quarterback) and takes the initiative by going undercover among the wave worshipers. First he has to learn how to not drown, and coaxes board assistance from scrappy ‘Tyler Endicott’ (Lori Petty) a waitress/surfer girl. He then meets her ex, ‘Bodhi’ (Patrick Swayze), a soulful guy who can also fight like a tiger, saving Johnny from a gang of beach punks. Initially the lawmen believe that nasty group might be the ‘Ex-Presidents’, but after they’re taken down (in an epic shootout), and the robberies continue, attention turns to Bodhi and his surfing buds, who’ve accepted Johnny as cool—it helps to have a name like Johnny Utah. Complicating things, Johnny admires Bodhi (and vice versa) and the relationship between Johnny and Tyler turns serious. Betray your pal, lie to your gal–what’s ticking you, Johnny?

The surfing as ‘identity’ wasn’t new (Big Wednesday ––crazy Gary a vet of that underrated opus)—its freedom ethos is expanded here to encompass skydiving (way fun), political anger (mocking Presidential integrity) and, oh yeah, armed robbery (lifestyles need cash and jobs are a sellout). The script is nonsense, but the rest of it zooms like a bullet train. Bigelow’s direction is both breathless in momentum and assured in detail, the editing by Howard Smith (River’s Edge, The Abyss, Glengarry Glen Ross) is razor sharp and cinematographer Donald Peterman (Flashdance, Get Shorty) makes the eye-drenching most of the locations, shooting in California (Malibu, Hermosa Beach, Culver City, Santa Monica, Venice), Oregon (Cannon Beach subbing for Bells Beach in Australia) and Utah (Lake Powell). Swayze, 38, aces his ‘spiritual crook’ with his customary intensity, Petty (27, second film) is simultaneously edgy and appealing, and likable sincere Reeves, 26, opened up his resume to the mastering of action—he had a showy year, scoring with the surreal slacker comedy of Bill And Ted’s Bogus Journey and holding hie own with River Phoenix in the lost soul drama of My Own Private Idaho. 

The action scenes take the justification patter and f-word barrage in stride and seal the deal in the wave riding, brawling, parachuting, gunfighting (mind that lawnmower, Agent Utah), and sprinting: the insane auto-into-foot pursuit is a classic, 6½ minutes tearing the thru streets, alleys, yards, fences and living rooms of a Hermosa Beach neighborhood and finishing up in Culver City. So what if they’re twelve miles apart, these dudes can really haul rumpus—ask the startled dog.

“If you want the ultimate, you’ve got to be willing to pay the ultimate price. It’s not tragic to die doing what you love.” *

Cost: $24,000,000. US box office of $43,200,000 placed 91’s 28th, and $40,300,000 more paid up internationally.

Dual studs and taut babe aside, there is committed gnarlytude from James Le Gros (‘Roach’), Bojesse Christopher (‘Grommet’), John C. McGinley, John Philbin, Vincent Klyn (‘Warchild’), Lee Tergesen,  Anthony Keidis, Chris Pederson, Galyn Görg and Tom Sizemore. 122 minutes.

* Bodhi speaks from the twi-lit zone—“Look, this was never about the money for us. I was about us against the system. The system that kills the human spirit. We stand for something. For those dead souls inching along the freeways in their metal coffins, we show them that the human spirit is still alive.”  Heavy and then some, brah—if only that were true of those whose motives in remaking the works of others were deeper than the pockets they aimed to plumb. To whit, quite unnecessarily Point Break was rehashed in 2015, flopping loudly. Was it worse than the do-overs of Straw Dogs, Red Dawn, The Italian Job, The Magnificent Seven, Charade (The Truth About Charlie), Thunderball (Never Say Never Again), 3:10 To Yuma, Around The World In 80 Days, Ben-Hur, Assault On Precinct 13, Flight Of The Phoenix, The Ladykillers, Get Carter, Mighty Joe Young, The Omen, Psycho, Rollerball, Stagecoach, The Time Machine, Valley Girl, The Wicker Man….

Lighting the Wick—Cameron volunteered that Bigelow “went to the mat for Keanu Reeves. We had this meeting where the Fox executives were going, ‘Keanu Reeves in an action film? Based on what? Bill & Ted?’ They were being so insulting. But she insisted he could be an action star. This was long before Speed or The Matrix. I didn’t see it either, frankly. I supported her in the meeting, but when we walked out, I was going, ‘Based on what?’ But she worked on his wardrobe, she showed him how to walk, she made him work out. She was his Olympic coach. He should send her a bottle of champagne every year, to thank her.”