keanu reeves

52 Films By Women: Point Break (1991)

Twentieth Century Fox

Twentieth Century Fox

By Andrea Thompson

For all the bluster and male machismo on display in Kathryn Bigelow’s 1991 cult masterpiece “Point Break,” there’s a subtlety to it. Yes, behind the abs, the beaches, the surfing, the action sequences that include pit bulls being thrown around, airplane jumps, and robberies...there are some deep undercurrents.

The movie actually spent quite a few years in development, with various directors, casts, and titles attached and discarded by the time Bigelow came into the picture while she was still married to James Cameron, who is one of the producers. Both of them also apparently did quite a bit of rewriting on the script, even if they never received credit for it, and the result was a film that contains some of the best characters and action cinema has ever seen.

This rebirth of sorts accounts for much of the movie’s tone, which could be called outright ridiculous at times, even if it’s always enjoyable. “Point Break” is for all intents and purposes an 80s movie, and it has nearly all the staples of the decade’s cop dramas. There’s the loose cannon cop, the boss who takes every chance to eviscerate him, the ridiculous plot that includes surfers who rob banks to fund their totally awesome lifestyles, blustery banter, and its apparent embrace of all things machismo. Even our lead rookie cop Johnny Utah (oh, what a name), played by Keanu Reeves, is a former Rose Bowl-winning football quarterback.

Dig a little deeper though, and there’s much of the more progressive vibes that would come to define the 90s. Take the love interest, Tyler (Lori Petty). A name like that practically screams androgynous, and sure enough, Tyler is no unflappable blonde beach goddess in a bikini framed in a holo of light as she soaks up the California sun. When Utah first meets her, she’s dressed in a wetsuit, barely even framed as she scrambles in the chaos of the ocean to save Johnny from drowning after his disastrous attempt to learn how to surf. When he tells her his name, she shouts back, “Who cares!”

With her brunette pixie haircut and deeply 90s wardrobe, Tyler is feminine but not objectified. Her and Utah’s relationship, which eventually does become romantic, is far more equal than in most action movies. Tyler is the one who teaches Utah to surf, and her presence and framing itself is a commentary on the sexism of the genre. Bigelow literally films Tyler and Utah on the same level, rather than lingering lasciviously on Petty’s body, and Tyler constantly pushes back against the toxicity she encounters. When she is eventually, inevitably held hostage, that is when her wardrobe becomes far more traditionally feminine, with Bigelow dressing Tyler in a short white nightie.

Tyler is also the one to warn Utah about Bodhi (Patrick Swayze, RIP) one of the most iconically charismatic villains the movies have ever produced. From the start, Bodhi and Utah’s relationship has a deep undercurrent of homoeroticsm, with the kind of intense, love at first sight moments that’s typically framed as romantic, as Utah admires Bodhi’s surfing prowess as he is indeed framed and surrounded by the sunlit waves.

The late Swayze threw everything into this role, and it shows. He is entirely believable as a leader of a group of surfers so completely under his sway that they remain true believers even as they’re bleeding to death, a result of Bodhi chasing greater and greater highs.

Twentieth Century Fox

Twentieth Century Fox

That is indeed what makes this, or rather his, group unique. They aren’t exactly robbing banks for the money, which they use to fund their surfing adventures. They justify it by a kind of spiritual philosophy, which Bodhi neatly sums up when he tells them, “We are here to show those guys that are inching their way on the freeways in their metal coffins that the human spirit is still alive.” It’s a grand statement, but then, junkies are pretty good at rationalizing their behavior. These guys risk their lives surfing the biggest waves, and their crime spree is little more than an extension of that same sickness. 

As Tyler points out in one of her many warnings to Utah, Bodhi can sense that Utah shares his sickness, and it’s no accident that Bodhi’s true toxicity is revealed via Tyler. He may wax sad about how he despises violence, but he sets up Tyler’s kidnapping so perfectly, Utah has no choice but to go with Bodhi’s demands and help him rob a bank. Bodhi may grieve when things go horribly wrong and the bodies start piling up, but he refuses to stop, even as he loses the rest of his team.

As Utah is pulled into circumstances that take him closer to, and eventually beyond the edge and he suffers his own losses, he in a sense becomes Bodhi’s final victim. He remains under his sway, even after he manages to track Bodhi down, overpower him, and subdue him. Ultimately, Utah can’t bear to see his wild man in a cage, and releases him so Bodhi can die doing what he loves: surfing the once-in-a-lifetime wave that will kill him, while Utah walks away and tosses his badge in the ocean.

Bigelow makes all this fun, tragic, and yes, deeply sexy without lingering too much on the bodies of the various surfers, male or female. It takes a hell of a director to get us to feel so much of the rush her characters feel, whether in the ocean, on a robbery, an iconic foot chase, or free falling through the air. You’d think it would’ve led to far more action films directed by women, but alas, change comes slow...until it doesn’t.

52 Films By Women: Always Be My Maybe

IMDB

IMDB

By Andrea Thompson

I was less than impressed by “Set It Up,” the last Netflix rom-com I watched, so it was a relief that “Always Be My Maybe” is about as progressive as it thinks it is. The movie addresses race, a major blind spot in not only “Set It Up,” but of quite a few rom-coms in general, which tend to heavily rely on the trope of the black best friend. But “Always Be My Maybe” just doesn't have a cast that's mostly Asian, it's culturally specific in how it references the differences between the cultures.

Sasha (Ali Wong, who co-wrote) and Marcus (Randall Park) are definitely a couple worth rooting for. They meet as kids in San Francisco, where they're inseparable from childhood to their teen years, which at one point involves matching Wayne’s World Halloween costumes. Awww. Sasha's parents are always away at the store where they work, so she also finds a kind of surrogate family with Marcus's parents, especially his mother Judy (Susan Park), where she learns a love of cooking that will be the bedrock of her hugely successful career.

Sasha and Marcus fall out as teen, shortly after Judy dies. Shortly after, Marcus and Sasha have sex for the first time. The aftermath is a mutual awkwardness that can occur even under the best of circumstances, and feels way, way, too relatable. Much like teen years in general, people tend to forget how the first time can lead to even more weirdness rather than ending it. It ends up inadvertently ending the friendship between Marcus and Sasha.

Given the whole situation, which includes the recent death of his mother, it's understandable that Marcus would lash out at Sasha. And it's just as understandable why his anger would be so devastating to Sasha. They were both already on the precipice of major changes, and this comes just to in time to lead to an estrangement that lasts 15 years. By the present, they're both in very different places. Sasha is a hugely successful celebrity chef, while Marcus is still living and working with his father at their air conditioning company. He's also in a band called Hello Peril (a play on the term yellow peril, a period where Asians were seen as a threat) that has found some local success, but is reluctant to play outside his neighborhood.

When Sasha returns to San Francisco to open a new restaurant, she and Marcus reconnect. It's of course a bit awkward at first, but they quickly fall into old familiar friendship patterns, with the two of them even going to their favorite childhood restaurant after Sasha breaks up with her handsome and successful, yet detached, commitment-phobic fiance Brandon Choi (Daniel Dae Kim). Marcus also has a girlfriend (Vivian Bang) albeit one he's only been dating for five months who's clearly wrong for him.

We all know where this is going, and it's refreshing that Marcus is pretty quick to realize that he is and always has been in love with Sasha. Less of the arbitrary rigamarole! Yay! This is still a rom-com though, and there's plenty of movie left, so we know it's not gonna be that easy. And sure enough, Sasha just happens to meet someone. And it involves one of the most hilarious celebrity cameos ever. Because the guy Sasha has been dating turns out to be...Keanu Reeves, who plays a demented version of himself.

Astoundingly, “Always Be My Maybe” also knows when to stop. Keanu Reeves is fantastic, and game as hell, but it would also get grating if this were pushed too far. We'd respect Sasha less for sticking with a jerk, and even Keanu's act would probably get old. Instead of having this be the conflict for the rest of the film, it only takes a little time spent at Keanu's apartment for Sasha realizes Keanu is that much of a jerk and for Marcus to break up with his girlfriend. After they call out each other's bullshit, they fall into bed together and just...start dating.

Yet...there's still plenty of movie left. So what gets in the way? Marcus, really, and the difference in status between him and Sasha. While Sasha has her issues, she is savvy and aware enough to know what she wants and to go for it. Marcus, on the other hand, is stuck, unsure if he even wants his band to play in a bigger venue across town. So he does freak out when Sasha asks him to go to New York with her. Their inevitable argument and break up sucks, but it's clear that Marcus and his issues that are at fault, while allowing him to remain sympathetic. The really inspiring thing is how much Sasha stands up to him and lays it out. She is unapologetic about how her career, and about asking Marcus to support her. As she points out, “No one would question it if the situation were the other way around.”

When their disagreements causes them to part ways, it's also because Sasha lays it out and says she loves Marcus for the first time, that she always has. And that she wants to be with him, even when she recognizes he's being an asshole. But she refuses to keep him in her life if he can't accept the way she lives it. It's one of the best rom-com moments ever, where a declaration of love comes from a driven career woman who is allowed to be vulnerable, smart, and decisive.

We may all know how this is going to end up too, but the big romantic gesture where Marcus wins Sasha back feels earned in a way such moments rarely do. Hell, “Always Be My Maybe” manages to squeeze in quite a bit, especially for a rom-com. There's even a subplot involving Sasha's parents, who are trying to reconnect after being absent for much of her childhood, and are even present at the big romantic moment. Hilariously, their big gesture that wins Sasha over is paying full price at her restaurant.

Randall Park, who plays Marcus, actually helped write many of the songs his band plays, having been a part of a hip hop group early in his career. It's part of why the songs feel so fun, and why we feel just as invested in Marcus and his career as we do Sasha's. It also indicative how so many people from an array of Asian cultures were involved in making this film, from director Nahnatchka Khan to all THREE writers: Michael Golamco, Randall Park, and Ali Wong. Perhaps this will continue to be a trend among mainstream movies, as even Disney is beginning to hire creatives of color behind the scenes as well as in front. What can possibly capture the feeling of people besides straight white men FINALLY being allowed to tell their stories? Possibly only this gif, so I’ll leave it at that.