Thirty-five years ago this weekend, Point Break arrived in theaters.
Yes, I know. It was released in 1991. Technically, it’s not an ’80s movie.
But come on. It stars Patrick Swayze and Keanu Reeves, two actors whose faces were already permanently etched into our memories of the previous decade. And the whole movie feels like the glorious final surge of ’80s action cinema, only faster, sweatier and considerably more dangerous.
I’ve been trying to think of what I would change about Point Break, and I honestly don’t know.
Not one thing?
Maybe not one thing.
The premise is ridiculous in exactly the right way: An FBI agent named Johnny Utah goes undercover among Southern California surfers because his partner believes a gang of bank robbers wearing masks of former presidents might also be catching waves between heists.
That shouldn’t work nearly as well as it does.
But Kathryn Bigelow directs the movie as though every moment matters. The surfing matters. The bank robberies matter. The friendship between Utah and Bodhi matters. Even the football game on the beach somehow feels like a life-or-death struggle for the soul of Johnny Utah.
The action is relentless. The foot chase through the backyards is still one of the most exciting sequences I’ve ever seen. The skydiving scenes are insane. The bank robberies are chaotic and frightening. And the final confrontation somehow gives us exactly the ending we need without feeling remotely like the ending we expected.
Then there’s Swayze.
Bodhi could have been a cartoon—a sun-bleached surfer philosopher spouting nonsense about freedom, fear and the ultimate rush. But Swayze makes you believe every word. You understand why people follow Bodhi. You understand why Utah is drawn to him. You might even understand why someone would risk everything just to feel truly alive for a few seconds.
Keanu is perfect, too. Johnny Utah begins the movie as a clean-cut, tightly wound former quarterback in a suit. By the end, the suit is gone, the rules are meaningless, and he’s standing on a beach halfway around the world trying to decide what justice really means.
And every smaller role is exactly right.
Lori Petty brings toughness and vulnerability to Tyler. Gary Busey gives the movie its battered, hungry heart as Angelo Pappas. John C. McGinley arrives at maximum volume and never lets up. Even the briefest appearances feel memorable.
And the lines. My God, the lines.
“I am an FBI agent!”
“Back off, Warchild. Seriously.”
“Fear causes hesitation, and hesitation will cause your worst fears to come true.”
“We’ll get him when he comes back in…” “He’s not coming back in.”
And, of course:
“Utah! Get me two!”
Thirty-five years later, Point Break is still thrilling, funny, absurd, emotional and completely sincere. It never apologizes for what it is. It never stops to wink at the audience. It believes completely in its surfers, its bank robbers, its bromance, its philosophy and its endless pursuit of the next great rush.
Maybe that’s why it remains nearly perfect.
Or maybe I should stop hedging.
Point Break is the perfect action movie.
Vaya con Dios, Bodhi.