10 Reasons Why ‘Point Break’ Was the Single Most Defining Film of the ’90s

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We’re not going to pretend that “Vaya con dios” ranks up there with “Go ahead, make my day” in terms of great dialogue. Or that a story revolving around a bunch of capitalism-hating surfing buddies who rob banks as a way to stick it to the man won’t invite involuntary eye rolls. But part of Point Break’s appeal is that it doesn’t pretend to be anything other than what it is: A highly entertaining, and surprisingly well crafted, action film. There are no complicated twists and turns to decipher, no ambiguous plot lines to ponder. The film—like Reeves’ rookie FBI agent, Johnny Utah—is a straight-shooter, which is a rarity in Hollywood. But screenwriter W. Peter Iliff (who would go on to write Patriot Games and Varsity Blues) clearly knew his audience, and wrote a story that would smack them square in their adrenaline-seeking faces. Who needs complicated storylines when you’ve got skydiving?  

Point Break is an action movie in the truest sense, which doesn’t mean that it’s devoid of any humor. And not even the unintentional kind. Whereas you can see and feel the nudges and winks when other films of this ilk try to mix in some humor (usually in the form of terrible one-liners), the humor in the film is all planned—and well executed in its delivery. As is the action and the drama. These guys clearly believe in what they’re doing, so we do, too.

From The Dark Knight to Skyfall, today’s genre movie landscape is littered with examples of “smart” action movies—which isn’t a word one would have often used to describe Hollywood’s action-film output back in 1991. Sure, there were exceptions to the rule, but one only needs to look at the filmographies of some of the era’s biggest action stars (see: Sylvester Stallone, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Bruce Willis, and Jean-Claude Van Damme) to understand why movies like Cobra, Red Sonja, Hudson Hawk, and Double Impact were being made at all. But on the heels of other smart actioners like Top Gun, RoboCop, Predator, and Die Hard, Point Break proved that “critically acclaimed action film” was not a misnomer. 

When Kathryn Bigelow made history in 2010 as the first woman to win an Oscar for Best Director for The Hurt Locker, many filmgoers were surprised to learn just how deep (and far back) her filmography went. But fans of Point Break knew it would only be a matter of time before the film’s director was adequately recognized for her talent (some would even argue that she deserved an Academy Award nod for her work on Point Break itself). It’s impossible to talk about the film’s importance and not give the bulk of that credit to Bigelow, who has been quietly subverting genres—and misperceptions about female directors—for as long as she’s been making movies. While other action movies of the era have become quintessential because of their hamminess (Patrick Swayze’s Road House comes to mind), Point Break endures because it’s stunningly well made. 

In his three-and-a-half-star review of the film, Roger Ebert noted that, “Bigelow and her crew are also gifted filmmakers. There's a foot chase through the streets, yards, alleys, and living rooms of Santa Monica; two skydiving sequences with virtuoso photography, powerful chemistry between the good and evil characters, and an ominous, brooding score by Mark Isham that underlines the mood. The plot of Point Break, summarized, invites parody (rookie agent goes undercover as surfer to catch bank robbers). The result is surprisingly effective.”

Say the name Gary Busey to someone—anyone—today, and the response you’re most likely to get will undoubtedly include the word “crazy.” While Pappas, his character in the film (a partner and mentor to Johnny Utah), is meant to be “crazy” in that dedicated cop kind of way, Bigelow managed to get an appropriately (but coherently) crazy performance out of Busey, who is one of the film’s main highlights. Try doing that today.

For anyone who wasn’t alive (or paying attention) in the 1980s, it’s almost impossible to imagine how big a star Patrick Swayze was at the time. In 1990, he was ranked number seven on Quigley’s Top 10 Box-Office Champions after Dirty Dancing, Road House, and Ghost made him a bigger box office draw with each hit. And while he was hardly a stranger to the action genre, Swayze was not known for playing criminals. Point Break changed that. 

At the same time, Keanu Reeves’ star was just beginning to rise following notable turns as laidback dudes in Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure, Parenthood, and I Love You to Death. While Point Break didn’t exactly turn Reeves’ surfer dude perception on its head (he does devolve into that stereotype, first as a cover, then for real), it did open up his range. Only slightly. Fortunately. Which is another reason to give thanks to Kathryn Bigelow. 

In addition to featuring one of the earliest performances from Tom Sizemore (who plays a DEA agent, but is not credited), Bigelow cast Red Hot Chili Peppers frontman Anthony Kiedis in the small but memorable role of Tone. Two months later, the band (which had been around since the early 1980s) released its breakthrough album, Blood Sugar Sex Magik, and subsequently became one of the biggest bands of the decade. (And yes, they’re still going strong.) 

In a way, it would be hard to say who the protagonist in Point Break is, just as it would be difficult to definitively name the antagonist. At different points in the film, cases could be made for Reeves’ Johnny Utah or Swayze’s Bodhi filling either of those roles. That is not an easy thing to do, as the latter of those characters plays a criminal—though he’s hardly the type of guy you’d be afraid to come across in a dark alley. 

From the get-go, the film makes a point of noting that the Ex-Presidents never resort to violence. They’ve got guns, and they’re not afraid to point them, but their criminal antics usually come with a lot of niceties. So at least for the first two acts, the biggest danger here is letting Gary Busey chew up all of the film’s scenery. Because the stakes are low, you don’t feel badly about sympathizing with a criminal—and are just as conflicted as Johnny when it comes to putting a stop to Bodhi’s illicit pastime.

It may seem silly, but Point Break got its two major plot points right: surfing and bank robbery. Though skateboarding was beginning to emerge as the more of-the-moment sport at the time of the film’s release, California’s love affair with hanging 10 was a well-documented one that was completely appropriate for the time. Likewise, Los Angeles—which had been the Bank Robbery Capital of the World for decades—saw an uptick in that particular criminal hobby in the 1990s. In 1992, a year after the film’s release (coincidentally, we hope), Los Angeles saw its highest number of bank robberies, with 2,600 in total (that’s more than seven robberies a day, on average). So as silly as the film’s premise may have seemed, it had its roots in the time’s reality.

Yet Bigelow was smart about pulling back on anything that might really date the film for future audiences. Yes, Johnny Utah’s jeans might be slightly more structured if the film was made today. Bhodi’s bleached blonde/perm/surfer mullet was probably even worthy of mocking in 1991. And Gary Busey’s collection of shirts (including one that looked too close to a Hypercolor T-shirt for comfort) was a sartorial abomination. But, particularly when compared to other films of the time, there’s very little about its costuming or production design that screams “help—we’re trapped in 1991 and can’t get out!”

On a larger scale, the film’s “spirituality over capitalism” message is a statement on the 1990s as a whole. Wedged in between the consumerism of the 1980s and the conservative 2000s, the decade was a time of transition from materialism to conservation, leading many Americans to pursue a more Zen-focused lifestyle like Bodhi (you know, minus the federal crimes), who swears that the Ex-Presidents’ criminal activities were “never about money”—that they were “about us versus the system” and showing the world that “the human spirit is still alive.” (Maybe setting up a yoga retreat would have been another way of getting that message across…but we digress.)

Lori Petty may play Reeves’ romantic interest in the film, but his love for Bodhi goes much deeper. Before you knew what a “bromance” was, Reeves and Swazye were defining the term. Like any great bromance, it begins quickly—practically at first sight—when Bodhi recognizes Johnny, who was something of a big deal as a quarterback in college. (That Bodhi would have any interest in football—professional, college, beach, or otherwise—seems out of character, but go with us on this one.) Just as Johnny can show Bodhi a thing or two about tossing a pigskin, Bodhi has much he can teach Johnny: about surfing, and how it's a spiritual connection above a physical sport, and about kicking ass (Bodhi only needs to tell a guy named Warchild to "back off" to save Johnny from a beat down of a lifetime). Their relationship may start out as a manipulated tactic to get Johnny further undercover, but the more time he spends with him, the more real the bromance becomes. When Johnny finally realizes that Bodhi is the surf-happy mastermind he's been hunting all along, he can't bring himself to take him down, even though he has several chances to do just that. But Johnny takes one look into Bodhi's expressive blue eyes and is clearly smitten. As is the viewer. And we all lived happily ever after.