Director Report Card: Kathryn Bigelow (2017)

10. Detroit

It would seem Kathryn Bigelow has embraced her status as a director who handles controversial subjects in a gritty, close-up fashion. “The Hurt Locker” would tackle the War in Iraq. “Zero Dark Thirty” was about the hunt for Osama bin Ladin. After that, Bigelow would re-team with journalist-turned-screenwriter Mark Boal to handle another hot button topic: Police brutality. In order to examine this very contemporary concern, the filmmaker would turn to the past. “Detroit” would directly adapt the Algiers Motel Incident, which also happened in the middle of the 12th Street Riots. Amid yet more controversy, “Detroit” would be ignored by audiences and garner few awards.  

It is July of 1967. A black club is raided by the Detroit Police Department, the suspects lined up on the walls outside. This spectacle triggers a riot and the National Guard is deployed into the city. Tensions between the predominantly white cops and largely black inner city population continue to rise. In the middle of this chaos, a group of people gather in the Algiers Motel: Larry Reed, lead singer of R&B group the Dramatics; his friend and bodyguard, two white teenage girls that follow them, a Vietnam veteran named Karl Greene. When one of the hotel residents jokingly shoots a starter pistol out a window, the police are brought in to investigate. What follows is an hours interrogation, in which belligerent cops antagonize and torture the black witnesses. Soon enough, people begin to die.

Much like “Zero Dark Thirty,” Bigelow and Boal attempts to adopt an objective view point in “Detroit.” They present just the facts as accurately as they can. The film even ends with a disclaimer, admitting that some parts of the story had to be fictionalized. (A statement few biographic films find necessary to include.) So Bigelow's film adopts numerous viewpoints, a clear protagonist never quite emerging. The goal here is to put the audience in that hotel in 1967, to make them feel like they've lived through this horrible tragedy as much as the people who were there did.

This even extends to the film's visual design. As in her last three films, Bigelow adopts an on-the-ground style of direction. There's frequent handheld shots and some rough zooms, attempting to capture a documentary sense of actually being there. This is effective at putting the audience in the place of the cast, further helping create a tense and grim atmosphere. Yet it sometimes makes the film hard to follow. Bigelow occasionally employs shaky cam, the camera spasmodically moving around and making it difficult to tell what is actually happening. I understand why Bigelow made this choice but it's a little annoying. Luckily, this doesn't happen too often.

As the title implies, “Detroit” is not solely about the Algiers Motel incident. It shows the origins of the riot. It presents the violence in Detroit at the time as a symptom of greater racial injustice. The film begins by explaining how the changing times led to a largely black population in inner city locations like Detroit. From there, the rising tension between the races is shown through petty acts of racism, through a cop murdering a black man he assumes to be a mugger. We get a real sense of the time and the place, a world where the horrific violence that occurred could happen the way it did.

“Detroit,” obviously, is not a feel-good movement. (Which is likely a reason for its commercial failure.) It's quite a punishing cinematic experience. The situation is dire to begin with, a group of black men at the mercy of a clearly unhinged group of white police officers. As they force them to stand along the wall, their tactics rise to psychological torture and plain physical torture pretty much immediately. There's multiple beatings, threats of murder, sexually menace towards the women. The most upsetting sequence involves the motel residents being forced to prayer and sing hymns, their voices choked with tears and cries of agony. It's a horror film of sorts, dread-filled, intensely unpleasant, with a nervous tension that never lets up.

Bigelow's camera is unflinching. The portrayal of these violent, awful events is stark. Every punch, blow, and slam sends a shock through the viewer. The bloodshed is graphic and intense yet the violence is not gratuitous. Instead, it is grounded in sea-sick realism. Bigelow's treatment of violence has remained the same throughout most of her career. She's always quested for realism, to make the audience feel the weight of these violent acts. In “Detroit,” she achieves this goal perhaps better than any of her other films. You certainly don't feel excited or invigorated by any of the graphic acts in “Detroit.” Each one is draining to experience, each one is startling. Just like in real life.

The motivation behind these bracing depictions of violence was largely responsible for the controversy surrounding “Detroit.” Bigelow's docu-drama, some would say distant, approach to showing this horrible, historical abuse was questioned. Was she shining a light on a racist system? Exposing the horrible abuse black individuals have suffered at the hands of white authority figures? Of course she was. But in 2017, when the news is constantly full of stories of police brutality, when we hear every day about how awfully the black populace is treated by the system, was being reminded of this useful? It's really up to history over whether “Detroit” will be judged as a powerful statement about the police brutality or, as one reviewer put it, “trauma porn for white liberals.” I don't see it that why but my opinion probably doesn't matter so much in that regard.

If “Detroit” has a definite flaw, it's the lack of perspective we get into its characters' lives. By focusing so intently on one time and place, we don't learn much more about everyone than what's shown during those tense hours inside the hotel. The focus is strictly on documentation, an attempt to recreate everything as it happened as closely as possible. Which does not leave much room for genuine personality. There's no examination of anyone's inner life. Aside from Larry Reed, we don't learn anything about the other's dreams, aspirations, or doubts. While Bigelow's presentation could not be more expertly intense, it would've been nice to spend some more time with the rest of the cast before driving them fully into hell.

“Detroit” is long, running about two and a half hours. That lengthy run time probably would've been better spent exploring the lives of everyone involved. Instead, Bigelow adds an extended epilogue onto the end of the film. We see the court case that followed the incident at the hotel, the murdering cops getting away without being charged for any crime. From there, we see Larry find some sort of personal serenity with what happened. I somehow feel that, if documentation was Bigelow's primary goal, she perhaps should have ended the film as soon as everyone left the hotel. Otherwise, it feels like we're getting an incomplete look at a much bigger picture.

Another trend Bigelow continues from her last few films is avoiding well-known name actors in the cast, relying primarily upon character actors. The closest thing to big stars in the movie is John Boyega as Melvin Dismukes and Anthony Mackie as Karl Greene. Boyega does well in the part, playing someone deeply conflicted about what role he's playing in these events but ultimately hoping to help people. Mackie, meanwhile, shows a quiet defiance in the face of terrifying odds. Algee Smith, as the de facto protagonist of the film, spends most of his screen time in various traumatized states. He's very good at it and certainly does what he can to give the audience a more developed character. I also liked Hannah Murray and Kaitlyn Dever, as the two young women tossed into this awful situation.

Yet the performance in the film that makes the most of an impression is in an antagonistic role. Will Poutler is terrifying as Philip Krauss, the vehemently racist police officer that is responsible for all the violence that follows. Poutler, a fine mist of sweat on his skin throughout most of the film, seems to delight in the power he has. The hotel situation gives him a chance to unleash some sort of sadistic tendency and he relishes in it. Poutler is perfect as the banally evil face of authority, someone happy to get away with the most awful shit imaginable. Ben O'Toole is similarly impressive as another officer who seems more amused and excited by the power he wields over this group of imprisoned, frightened people. 

From my perspective, “Detroit” is an expertly assembled film. Bigelow wanted to produce a specific reaction in the viewer, one of intense discomfort and distress. I would say she largely succeeded, creating a deeply unpleasant but unshakable motion picture. The underwhelming reaction that greeted “Detroit” might just be a case of a good film at the wrong time. (And, perhaps, a black filmmaker should've told this story.) It is not an easy movie to watch nor one I especially want to revisit. It's certainly flawed too, with some simple mistakes in the writing department. Yet “Detroit” makes an impression, portraying an ugly patch of history with an unblinking eye. [Grade: B]

Director Report Card: Kathryn Bigelow (2012)

9. Zero Dark Thirty

Before her making history with her Oscar win, Kathryn Bigelow was best known for expertly executed genre fare. She was – and I mean this as the highest of complements – a peddler of pulp.  Her reputation had been built on dazzling cult experiences like “Near Dark” and “Point Break.” After “The Hurt Locker,” Bigelow suddenly became a director of “important” films. Such as “Zero Dark Thirty,” a film about history so recent it was actually rewritten to reflect current events. Another collaboration with journalist Mark Boal, the film was initially about the unsuccessful attempts to capture Osama bin Laden. Following the events of May 2, 2011, the project was entirely revamped to be about the successful assassination of bin Laden. As you'd expect, “Zero Dark Thirty” was met with controversy and award season attention. Over four years after it came out, the events the film depicts still feel almost too recent.

In the aftermath of the September 11th terrorist attacks, one person would emerge as the most wanted man in the world. Osama bin Laden, a leader of Al Queda and a prime organizer of the attacks, evaded capture for nearly a decade. “Zero Dark Thirty” mixes fact and fiction, as it tells the story of how bin Laden was finally located. The film follows Maya, a CIA analyst who has spent her entire career tracking Osama. As Maya draws closer to the terrorist mastermind, she looses friends. She has numerous close calls with other terrorist attacks. She faces resistance from her superiors, who questions whether this quest is business or personal for Maya. All the while, Maya remains determined to achieve her goal.

Stylistically, “Zero Dark Thirty” is a continuation of “The Hurt Locker.” Both movies are rooted in a gritty sensibility, determined to recreate the hot, sand-strewn real life locations. For her ninth feature, Bigelow pulls way back on the shaky, handheld photography. Despite having a glossier look. “Zero Dark Thirty” feels no less tense and urgent than “The Hurt Locker.” Both films make use of frantic motion, glaring close-ups, and sudden explosions of violence. The two films are irrevocably linked in my mind, telling similar stories of obsession in a similar manner. If Bigelow ever makes another film about the War on Terror, I'll be happy to retroactively declare this the middle section of a thematic trilogy.

Despite its ripped from the headlines plot, Kathryn Bigelow's roots as a genre specialist shine through in “Zero Dark Thirty.” The story is a procedural, a mystery where the solution just happens to be common knowledge. Maya follows leads, retrieving clues from witnesses. Facts are revisited, a dead man turning out to a brother. There are false starts, trails that go cold and lead nowhere. When others tell her a lead might be a wrong turn, she sticks to her guns. Maybe this was Bigelow and Boal's way of feeding a real life stories, one that gets especially convoluted at times, to audiences. Through a recognizable genre outline.

This isn't the only familiar genre lens that Bigelow applies to this true story. “Zero Dark Thirty” is also a revenge story. The film begins with an absolutely chilling selection of real audio from September 11th, played against a black background. This is seemingly done to remind us of what was lost on that day, to give the following film more meaning. For Maya, hunting down Osama is a personal mission. She's out to avenge everyone who died in the attacks. Later, her quest is made literally personal, when a friend of her's is killed by a suicide bomber. Sometimes, I was even reminded of an eighties cop movie, when the lead struggles against obstinate authorities. Is filtering a real life story, one full of thorny choices and questionable decisions, through such a standard plot construction responsible? It's in debatable taste, if nothing else.

The aspect of “Zero Dark Thirty” that generated the most controversy when it was new, and possibly hurt the film's Oscar chances, was its depiction of torture. Here in reality, how effective “enhanced interrogation techniques” were at uncovering useful information has been debated endlessly. Many believed that the moral compromises necessary for such actions did not justify the intel that was gathered. “Zero Dark Thirty” makes no strong stance on this issue. The torture is depicted explicitly. Waterboarding, people shoved in tiny boxes, blasted with death metal, chained up and humiliated: It's all shown in detail. Ultimately, techniques like this is not what leads Maya and her team to Osama. Those who perform the torture are not judged harshly. On one hand, the film should be commended for its commitment to realism. On the other hand, it comes as wishy-washy on a hot button issue.

If you can separate “Zero Dark Thirty” from its real world roots – which is, you know, impossible – you'll see the film as a highly effective genre exercise. The factor uniting many of Bigelow's films has been her treatment of violence. In “Zero Dark Thirty,” every explosion, every act of terrorism, hits the viewer in the gut. When bombs go off, they rip through the air, the sound design catching the viewer off-guard every time. A pleasant dinner in a hotel is interrupted by a massive blast, destroying the room and throwing people through the air. As harrowing as the explosions are, the more intimate sequences of violence remain far more shocking. A terrorist attack on an American hotel, a gunman killing every American present, is sickening. An attack on Maya in her driveway is nearly as tense.

Moments like this combine to make “Zero Dark Thirty” an exhausting watch. This is not an easy movie to digest. It's long, Bigelow's longest film at two hours and twenty-seven minutes. Most of the movie moves at a snail's pace, many scenes devoted to Maya and her colleagues attempting to track down leads. Once you combine this with the often shocking scenes of realistic violence, the viewer is kept in a state of ill ease. If this was on purpose, it was to replicate Maya's head space. She's exhausted too, worn out from a long mission that has cost many lives and stretched on for years. Yet I'm not sure what purpose inflicting this on the viewer has. You could have made the same point without turning the movie into such a slog.

“Zero Dark Thirty” makes many questionable decisions. Its cast isn't one of them. At the front of the film is Jessica Chastain as Maya. Chastain maintains a steely intensity throughout the entire film. Maya is a character unwavering in her goals. Chastain gifts her with a distinct attitude. She's frank with her bosses, casually using profanity in front of them. She digs into cases on her own, often putting herself directly into the middle of the danger. That's her commitment to the cause. Chastain's performance is the main reason to see “Zero Dark Thirty.” It's powerful, full of nuance and small details, a boiling sea underneath her red hair and pale skin.

The supporting cast also has some recognizable faces. Jason Clarke has probably the showy supporting part, as the CIA agent in charge of interrogations. There's something about Clarke that makes me uncomfortable, that I can't put my finger on. Considering the character he's playing, it makes the film's treatment of torture even harder to determine. A number of known character actors appear as the bureaucrats in Maya's way. Mark Strong sports a pretty good wig. Kyle Chandler is probably the best of these characters, getting the most screen time with Chastain. James Gandolfini is under heavy make-up but is immediately recognizable, thanks to his voice and particular attitude. A number of future stars show up as the marines at the end. See if you can spot Chris Pratt, Joel Edgerton, and Frank Grillo.

“Zero Dark Thirty” is building up to one moment: When Seal Team Six descends on Osama's compound and make the big fat kill. This sequence is as deliberately paced as everything else in the film. Yet the effect is different this time. As the marines work through the compound, the silence is interrupted by gunshots and doors being blasted through. The gritty intimacy of Bigelow's best films return in a big way. The audience is shoved into the tight hallways of the compound. The viewer never knows what kind of danger is around each corner. Even then, “Zero Dark Thirty” maintains it commitment to realism. The marines have to make hard sudden decisions, shooting at women and children. When bin Laden is killed, it practically happens off-screen. It's sudden, indecipherable from any of the other deaths in the house. And just like that, the journey is over.

“Zero Dark Thirty” is a film that fills me with a lot of mixed emotions. Yet I'm willing to forgive it for almost everything thanks to that final shot. The marines celebrate a successful mission. Maya silently nods to her co-worker, who shows her bin Laden's dead body. The next morning, she sits in solitude. As the helicopter door comes up behind her, she weeps in silence. Why she cries is up to the viewer to decide. Is it because she's spent a huge chunk of her life on this mission and is now wondering what's next? Is she relieved that this ordeal is over? Or do the scars of the experience linger on? It's a powerful, evocative moment and one that nearly makes the entire film.

“Zero Dark Thirty” is ultimately a hard movie to evaluate. When looked at as an expert piece of film making or a showcase for Chastain's abilities, it's obviously very impressive. However, the film remains an uncomfortable, exhausting watch. With the film being so closely tied to real life events, you are constantly distracted by the political ramifications of its storytelling. It strives for ambiguity yet the question of whether or not “Zero Dark Thirty” is for or against torture – and what that means for our country – makes the film difficult to discuss in any other context. I wonder if anyone could have made a satisfying movie telling this story. Some real world tales are too wrapped up in political, social and emotional baggage to be consumed in a two hour motion picture. I'm not saying Bigelow shouldn't have tried but a steadier grasp on the materiel would've helped. [Grade: C+]

The controversy around "Zero Dark Thirty" might have hurt its award season chances but Bigelow isn't one to back down from touchy subjects. Her next film, "Detroit," is another fact-based drama/thriller about the 1967 Detroit riot. It's also another collaboration with Mark Boal. Considering police brutality remains a serious concern, the film's timing couldn't be better. "Detroit" doesn't come until August and has already attracted some negative attention. The trailer is incredibly intense. Her career has bent in some interesting directions but Kathryn Bigelow remains an important cultural voice. I'm glad I did this retrospective.

Come back later in the week for another Director Report Card. Until next time, thanks for reading.

Director Report Card: Kathryn Bigelow (2008)

8. The Hurt Locker

For quite a few years, Kathryn Bigelow was known as a director who made movies that were well-liked by critics but didn't make any money. The reviews weren't even that good for her last two movies. If she had stayed on that path, we probably wouldn't be talking about her now. Instead, Bigelow collected enough funds to independently produce her next film. “The Hurt Locker,” a small movie that was seen by very few in its initial theatrical release, would receive universally positive reviews. It would ride a wave of hype all the way to the Oscars, where it won Best Picture. Perhaps even more impressive, Kathryn Bigelow would win the Academy Award for Best Director, making her the first and thus far only woman to ever grab that honor. It was a comeback film in the truest sense.

In the depths of the Iraq War, the leader of an Explosive Ordinance Disposal team is killed by an improvised bomb. Sergeant Will James is brought in as the replacement. James likes to diffuse the bombs by hand, often foregoing protective gear. He's good at it too, which is the only thing that let's him get away with this self-endangering behavior. As his adrenaline addiction pushes him to perform more dangerous acts, his team wonder about his sanity. James wonders about it too, as the days pile up in Iraq, people around him die, and his life is on the line every hour.

Over her long career, Kathryn Bigelow has often employed an on-the-ground style of action direction. In “Point Break,” handheld camera rigs allowed the filmmaker to get right into the tight corridors and winding paths her actors ran through. The director pushes this style as far as it'll go in “The Hurt Locker.” From the opening minutes, the film is characterized by a shaky, point-of-view perspective. The camera often swings wildly around the dusty streets of Baghdad, mirroring the frantic lives of the soldiers who are always on the lookout for danger. Bigelow stays just on the right side of incoherent, lending the movie a frenzied tone.

“The Hurt Locker” was written by Mark Boal, a journalist who spent two weeks in Iraq with a bomb disposal team. Subsequently, the film is based off the experiences he had while embedded in the war. Fitting this fact-based origin, “The Hurt Locker” is a loosely plotted movie. The script is largely episodic, detailing a number of different bombing and encounters James has to get out of. The setting, characters, and themes tie the film together into a cohesive narrative. This captures a more true-to-life approach. The real world doesn't have a three act structure. Some days, things just happen. This helps further establish the gritty, realistic approach the entire movie is built upon.

“The Hurt Locker” opens with a quote from Chris Hedges, describing how the rush of war can become a drug. That same phrase would become the movie's tagline. Sergeant James is a self-admitted adrenaline junkie. He often directly disobeys orders so he can get up-close and personal with the bombs he disables. The character himself wonders about the motivation behind his actions. He doesn't seem to be suicidal, as he takes measures to protect himself throughout the film. He talks about his ex-wife and infant son in a way that suggests he hopes to see them again. He's largely puzzled by his own behavior. Eventually, “The Hurt Locker' comes around to this point: James has developed an addiction to danger as a survival tactics. The other soldiers are increasingly shaken by their experience. Because he longs to see action again, it pushes him forward.

Just as an act of film making, “The Hurt Locker” is an impressive achievement. The bomb diffusing sequences are a master class in suspense. The scenes are deliberately paced, slowly pushing up the intensity. James' first bomb sequence has him uncovering a series of wires under the dirt, realizing the bomb is far more complex than he initially assumed. The second bomb sequence escalates similarly, James uncovering an entire trunk full of bombs. Each bomb dismantling sequence tops the previous one in terms of suspense. The film's proper climax involves an especially convoluted bomb, involving a timer and elaborate locks. This scene really makes the audience sweat, James' abilities pushed to the edge.

All of Kathryn Bigelow's films are united by their treatment of violence. Even in her pulpiest, campiest films, there's a weight and seriousness to the violence. This is especially true in “The Hurt Locker,” a movie even more grounded than her previous output. The violence in “The Hurt Locker” comes suddenly. A newly introduced character, played by a name actor, is killed only minutes after first appearing. A bullet suddenly, quickly rips into his body. He falls to the ground, dead. The explosions are massive, tossing debris high into the air. Bigelow focuses on the noise, the rippling ground, the flying shrapnel. It's not just a cool boom. It's a startling event. We see the bloody, grisly remains of bodies, blown to bits by blasts. “The Hurt Locker” is determined to impose the weight of its violence on the viewer.

The film captures another, more overlooked aspect of combat. Sometimes, its sort of mundane. When not diffusing bombs, James and his team members have to find ways to unwind. Sometimes they listen to death metal or play video games. Other times, they homoerotically wrestle and punch each other. Yet it's not just the downtime the film portrays. A shoot-out with a sniper is stretched out as long as possible. It's a waiting game, both men watching for the other to make a mistake. Sweat drips in their eyes. One soldier has trouble reloading his gun. It's nerve wrecking not because what's happening but because of what's not happening. Details like that further ground “The Hurt Locker.”

Aside from his team members, James only bounds with one other person while in Iraq. A spunky boy, probably in his early teens, attempts to sell him bootleg DVDs. Later, James messes around with the kid, disparaging the quality of the disc he was sold. He finds out the boy likes soccer and that he calls himself Beckham. Their scenes together are cute, easily the film's most light-hearted moments. This all comes crashing to a halt, when he discovers the dead body of a boy he believes to be Beckham. This is when the consequences of his actions begin to weigh on James' mind and when “The Hurt Locker's” story solidifies into something more concrete. In an odd decision, we later discover that Beckham is alive. This draws further attention to the irresponsibility of James' actions but is an odd choice, from a narrative perspective. The script never clarifies why James made this mistake.

By 2008, Jeremy Renner had been kicking around Hollywood for about a decade. He had appeared in a few major films, such as “S.W.A.T.” or “28 Weeks Later,” and garnered decent reviews for indie fair, like “Dahmer” or “Neo Ned.” After appearing in this film, Renner would be launched onto the A-list, soon enough showing up in Marvel movies. Jeremy Renner's performance in “The Hurt Locker” is stoic. He plays Will James as a man who keeps his feelings close to his chest. Even during the heat combat, he doesn't reveal too much. Instead, Renner hints at the turmoil and conflict the character feels inside. When those emotions pile up, he explodes in cathartic rage.

As a small production, “The Hurt Locker” doesn't have too many other big names in its cast. At least one other actor would find himself in Marvel superhero movies later on. Anthony Mackie, our future Falcon, plays Sergeant Sanborn. Mackie is more outwardly emotional than Renner. He gets more agitated more quickly. A sobering moment occurs late in the film, where Mackie expresses a desire to survive, to start a family. Also among the cast is Ralph Finnes, in his second  collaboration with Bigelow. Finnes appears briefly but makes an impression as a foul mouthed fellow soldier. Guy Pierce, rather brilliantly, appears in the opening scene as a fake-out protagonist. A name actor like that, you'd expect him to be the main character. He, uh, isn't.

“The Hurt Locker” is already a little too long, running eleven minutes over two hours. Some scenes probably could've been trimmed but that extended run time does allow for an interesting epilogue. We follow Will James as he returns home. He reunites with his ex-wife, who still lives in the same house. He plays with his infant son, having a cryptic one-sided dialogue with him. The film concludes with James returning to the Middle East, once again diffusing improvised explosives. It's an interesting ending that maintains the ambiguity of Renner's character. He really does love the rush more than anything and the consequences of that attitude will continue to haunt him.

I'm not sure “The Hurt Locker” deserved the absolute praise it received, that took it all the way to the Best Picture prize. It's a very good film, well directed and acted. However, the pacing is a little off. The script makes some odd decisions. Bigelow's handheld aesthetic is slightly disappointing, considering how smooth her other films looked. Still, that it would emerge as one of the most popular films about the War in Iraq speaks to its quality. It was also the critical and financial hit Bigelow needed to relaunch her career. She had been toiling on lackluster projects for too long. After winning that Oscar, A-list material will remain within her grasp. So that makes “The Hurt Locker” okay in my book. [Grade: B]

Director Report Card: Kathryn Bigelow (2002)

7. K-19: The Widowmaker

“K-19: The Widowmaker” is a movie that came out not long after I truly became a serious movie fan. I remember the movie being a box office flop, failing to make back its budget. I even read a few reviews at the time. Mostly, I remember the poster, with its image of Harrison Ford sternly starring out over a submarine. Somehow, I only recently discovered that Kathryn Bigelow directed the film. This is probably due to “K-19's” financial failure and middling reviews causing it to slip quickly into obscurity. Don't blame me too much. When it comes to Bigelow's interesting contribution to cinema, this one doesn't get mentioned very often.

In the midst of the Cold War, the Soviet Union prepares the K-19. It is the country's first nuclear submarine, armed with ballistic missiles. On its first mission, the submarine is given to Captain Vostrikov, a man with a troubled family history and undying loyalty to the Soviet Union. This bothers Polenin, the one who has been captaining the ship for some time. Soon, the K-19 hits serious problem. After breaking through the Arctic ice, the submarine suffers a series of reactor problems. Men become sick and the submarine is on the verge of exploding. The problems begin to pile out, the crew questioning Vostrikov's leadership as their lives become more endangered.

Before we get any deeper into discussing “K-19: The Widowmaker,” there's something unavoidable that I have to talk about: What the fuck is up with the Russian accents in this movie? I know it's the default in American movies that all foreigners speak English, usually with a British accent. “K-19” defies that last part by having most of its actors speak with an setting appropriate Russian accent... Badly. Harrison Ford and Liam Neeson both struggle to hid their natural vocalization. Ford often gives up for long stretches. When he actually attempts the accent, he adds some preposterous sounding inflections to his words. Neeson at least maintains the accent but it still sounds like a weird mixture of his natural Scottish accent and his usually pretty good American accent. I don't usually get hung on details like this but it's seriously distracting in “The Widowmaker.”

For years, mainstream filmmakers portrayed everyone from Soviet Russian as totally evil, villains that needed to be banished by red-blooded, American heroes. With this in mind, “K-19” becomes something of an anomaly. It's a Cold War movie told from the perspective of the Russians. The only American characters we see are a briefly glimpsed Navy photographer and faded faces in an old newsreel. Telling a Cold War era story from the other side could've resulted in a interesting reversal, showing American audience how the other side lived. Instead, the nationality of its characters is of only passing interest to “The Widowmaker.” This is a typical submarine movie and the origins of the people on board only come up briefly.

“K-19's” earlier scenes focus on a beleaguered submarine crew, operating on a seemingly cursed vessel. The peaks inside life on a sub is the film's most compelling attributes. Crew members are called for constant drills. The men are quickly exhausted by the work load. This leads to more mistakes. A guy falls and bashes his head, an unusually bloody moment. Another crewmen gets his hands twisted by a chain. Even beyond these dramatic scenes, the reality of life underwater is also interesting. The submarine crew are only allowed to bath once a week. Instead, a doctor passes a soap soaked rag around the bunks. Later, we see a revealing moment of the crew watching a propaganda reel, showing racial unrest and violence in America.

These scenes in the first act are interesting but, about a half-hour in, the film's pace hits a snag and never recovers. Captain Vostrikov has the submarine perform a dangerous maneuver, diving to extremely low depths before quickly resurfacing through Arctic ice. Soon afterwards, K-19 is halted by a number of technical issues. The film is no longer about a submarine working under the orders of a possibly unstable captain. Instead, it becomes about a crew attempting to hold together a sub that is constantly cracking apart. The movement literally goes out of the story, the pace grinds to a stop, and the viewer's interest quickly fades. Submarine maintenance is not as exciting as adventures beneath the sea.

It took me about an hour before I figured out that “The Widowmaker” wouldn't going anywhere else soon. The movie is actually about what happens when an inexperienced crew has to repair a damaged nuclear submarine. So what does happen? The short answer is: Everybody gets radiation poisoning. Long scenes are devoted to men in flimsily insulated suits wandering into the sub's radioactive core. After working in the irradiated water, they walk out vomiting. One man stays inside so long, his entire body gets covered with severe burns. Even after the power source is repaired, “K-19” keeps this focus on submarine maintenance. There are fires, malfunctions, and yet more problems with the damn uranium. The result is a movie so detail oriented, it becomes tedious.

One assumes “K-19” got bankrolled because of Harrison Ford, one of those internationally beloved movie stars that usually get people in the theaters, starred in it. Aside from the shifting accent, Ford's performance is decent. Sadly, the script does him no favors. Throughout most of “K-19,” the film plays with Captain Vostrikov being mentally unstable. He gives the crew tricky orders, pushing the submarine past its limits. Some of the mechanical failures that get people killed are indirectly his fault. He seems psychotically obsessed with putting his country's needs above the needs of his soldiers. Eventually, Vostrikov winds up in handcuffs and is threatened with mutiny. So, is Ford's character crazy? The answer will disappoint you! “The Widowmaker's” last act reverses course, suddenly treating Ford like he's the movie's hero. He's thinking clearly. He's saving the day. The soldiers support him. When the hell did this change happen? Was this Ford's idea or some weird editing mishap?

Though the film is about the crew of a ship, “K-19” isn't really an ensemble film. Most of the other crew members are thinly developed. A few get some distinguishing attributes. One has a pet rat. One carries around a picture of his girlfriend back home. Another has a goofy mustache. Otherwise, the movie is mostly about Ford's Vostrikov and Liam Neeson's Captain Polenin. Neeson plays his part as a stern voice of authority who is easily frustrated. His establishing character moment, in the first scene, has him literally growing at a bit of bad news. Neeson is fine, bringing occasional moments of intensity to the part, even if his character is mostly tugged along by the direction of the story.

“K-19: The Widowmaker” drags on for over two hours. After a countless number of mechanical problems and failures, the Russians allow themselves to be rescued by the Americans. It's a fairly anticlimactic conclusion but the movie still isn't done yet. An extended, maudlin epilogue is tagged on, detailing the secrecy surrounding the events. We're informed most of the crew died of radiation poisoning, via on-screen text, an inelegant device. In the final scene, Ford outright states the movie's themes. That any soldier willing to die for his country or comrades is a hero, regardless of affiliation or origin. It's a point worth making, I suppose, but it takes a slog of a film out an even lower down note.

What about the direction? Kathryn Bigelow can usually be counted on for a stylish looking film. There are a couple of scenes that come to mind. The entirety of the submarine is always shot in glaring colors. Most of the time, it's a searing red which certainly brings to mind the tension of the situation. Scenes close to the radioactive core feature darker colors: Sickly blues, glowing purples, muted silvers. Bigelow's speedy editing causes a few sequences to move along, such as when the crew members are frantically complying with another exercise. But too much of “The Widowmaker” is too still, further dragging the pacing down. The movie also features some rather dated looking CGI, for an extra kicker.

I do like the score though. Klaus Badelt's music clearly recalls Basil Poledouris' iconic “Hunt for Red October” score. As Poledouris did, Badelt employs traditional Russian opera, creating a grand soundscape for the film. There's even a puckish sense of humor to this choice. A scene devoted to the Russian seaman mooning an American helicopter is also set to this music. Badelt's score also features some more mournful moments, combining traditional mariner themes with heavier horns and plucking strings. I wasn't a big fan of the movie but I would recommend giving Badelt's score a listen.

The real story behind the K-19 was probably worth telling. I don't how many mechanical failures, deaths, and fires are regular for a submarine. It sure seems like the K-19 had a lot. As the movie suggest, maybe the submarine was cursed. Bigelow's film approaches this interesting topic in an unusually dry way. The focus on mechanical detail frequently bores the audience. A story that gets stranded around the same time the sub does irritates the viewer more. An overly long run time is the killing blow. In retrospect, the film's box office failure is not surprising. Not even Harrison Ford's star power could save this snooze. “K-19: The Widowmaker” deserves to be forgotten in the cinematic sea. [Grade: C-]

Director Report Card: Kathryn Bigelow (2000)

6. The Weight of Water

Following the underwhelming box office performance of “Strange Days,” Kathryn Bigelow seemingly had trouble getting another project together. It took five years before a new film from Bigelow was released. “The Weight of Water” didn't come out until 2000. The motion picture didn't reach American shores until two years after that, receiving a limited theatrical release in 2002.  The film was based on the book by Anita Shreve, which was itself inspired by an actual double-murder in the 1800s. The adaptation wouldn't change Bigelow's luck. “The Weight of Water” would earn mixed reviews and piddling box office.

The film concerns two stories, occurring in two separate times. In the modern day, photographer Jean Janes travels on a yacht with her husband Thomas, Thomas' brother Rich, and Rich's girlfriend Adaline. The trip is ostensibly a vacation but Jean is also investigating a murder that occurred in the area over a hundred years ago. In 1872, two women were beaten and murdered with an ax. The murders were blamed on a Swedish immigrant, who was hanged for the crime. While exploring, Jean discovers an account of the killings by a Norwegian woman who lived in the same house. Janes gets caught up in the past while old traumas and new suspicions wreck havoc on her present.

“The Weight of Water” represents a change of pace for Kathryn Bigelow. This isn't an action movie, with nary a gun fight or explosion in sight. It's also not a genre experiment, as the story occurs totally outside the sci-fi or horror bubble. Instead, “The Weight of Water” is an odd hodgepodge of different story elements. The film has aspects of a murder mystery and a historical drama. It also attempts to be a character-based thriller, hoping to weave suspense between a quartet of characters inside a tight location. These tones do not blend well, creating a tonally uneven picture, trying to do many things at the same time.

Another big problem with “The Weight of Water” is how jarring the shifts between time periods are. The scenes in 1872 feel like a stuffy costume drama. The modern day sequences, strangely, feel like a haughty character drama, with unfitting elements of romantic melodrama and erotic longing. Frustratingly, there are very few parallels between these two stories. One is set at sea. One is set on the coast. One concerns murder and dark secrets. Another concerns the ennui of a crumbling marriage. Jean feels a bond with Maren, the Norwegian woman, but the two don't have very much in common. Their stories have even less correlating aspects.

Bigelow, Shreve, and screenwriters Alice Arlen and Christopher Kyle attempt to forge some parallels between the two women. Both feel trapped in their lives. Maren is stuck in a strange country, with a distant husband, consumed by desires she doesn't understand and can barely control. Jean's marriage is starting to collapse under the strain of past tragedies and ongoing discomfort. The issue is the magnitude of these dramas. Maren is trapped by tradition and geography, her story ending in violence. Jean is trapped by stubbornness, her marriage threatened by a lack of communication. One story has no imaginable happy ending. The other could be resolved if people just talked to each other.

The romantic aspects of “Weight of the Water” feel especially tawdry. Jean and Thomas' marriage is already threatened. The mistakes of Thomas' past weigh on him. Jean is drifting apart from him. Into this situation comes Adaline. A sexy young woman, she spends most of the movie in a bikini when she isn't sunbathing topless. Thomas stares at her wantonly. His lust enraged, he awkwardly attempts to make love with Jean in a library. Jean is clearly concerned her husband is sleeping with another woman. Yet she acts pettily too, telling Adaline doubt-casting stories that may or may not be true. It feels like the most pedestrian of dramas, people using little doubts as excuses to make big mistakes.

The domestic unrest in the past is, if nothing else, more understandable. Stuck in a small cabin on the stormy Maine coast, Maren has few friends. Her husband isn't home often. He desires a child but Maren is barren. Living with them is a German worker, named Wagner, who attempts to force himself on Maren. Her only friends are a little dog her husband gave her and Anethe, her brother's wife. This story – of several people living in a small home, focused on a woman crippled by fears and doubts – is a lot more compelling than petty suspicions and resentments on a modern day boat.

Yet even the period piece eventually lurches towards some odd tonal shifts. In the last third, we discover that Maren was hiding some shocking secrets. The reason she left Sweden is hastily revealed. Maren was having an affair with her own brother. Now, in the new world, she has developed lesbian desires for Anethe, her brother's wife. It's a sudden, strange twist that seems at odds with the kind of story the film was telling before hand. Afterwards, “The Weight of Water” depicts the murders with the kind of graphic, intense violence that has become Bigelow's specialty. Keep in mind, this was a muted costume drama earlier. The hidden sexual desires and bloody murders really come out of nowhere.

The film did attract a solid cast. Catherine McCormack, a character actress that has worked steadily without becoming a big name, is Jane. McCormack is the film's highlight, giving an intense, thoughtful performance. Sean Penn plays Thomas. Penn brings a detached, haughty element to the character but hints at his pain and desires. The result is a performance that isn't entirely likable but is nuanced. Elizabeth Hurley plays Adaline. This was around the same time as “Austin Powers” and “Bedazzled,” when Hurley was one of Hollywood's top sex symbols. Hurley is gorgeous but her performance is too trivial, the part too thin to be much more than eye candy. Lastly, Josh Lucas is Rich, a shallow character with few opportunities for an actor.

The 1873 segments has fewer big names but may feature stronger performances. Sarah Polley plays Maren. Polley seems in tune with the character, allowing Maren's interior turmoil to come through in small gestures and subtle facial expressions. Seeing Polley cut loose is the only thing cathartic about Maren's eventual violent acts. Ciaran Hinds has an odd balance to play as Wagner, the German immigrant who was blamed for the deaths. He has to be slimy enough that you believe Maren fears him yet sympathetic enough that you feel bad for him when he's wrongly executed. Hinds mostly pulls this off, playing the part as a raw nerve pulled in different directions. The past segments also features “Hocus Pocus'” Vinessa Shaw, who is flighty and vulnerable, and Katrin Cartlidge, who is properly stern.

“Weight of the Water” doesn't present the kind of directorial opportunities that Bigelow's previous films did. There isn't any edge of your seat action sequences, accompanied by bravado film making. Mostly, Bigelow's camera is stuck inside confined places. The director attempts to spruce things up whenever possible. She occasionally adds some slow motion, her tackiest habit, especially once a heavy storm rocks the tiny boat. The murder sequence features some black and white photography, drawing attention to the severity of the situation. The film's proper climax involves Jane hallucinating under the water, where the past and present collide. It's an odd attempt to blend the film's two stories.

By far, the strangest decision holding “Weight of the Water” back is its score. David Hirschfelder, whose scores for “Elizabeth” and 'Shine" received Oscar nominations, makes a baffling decision. The film's soundtrack is mostly composed of smooth jazz. “Weight of the Water” is supposed to be a thriller but Hirschfelder's maudlin saxophones drain tension during scenes that should be suspenseful. Moreover, it makes the long, slow scenes on the boat seem rather boring. The soundtrack makes the film seem even more like, to quote one reviewer, “a tricked out Lifetime movie.”

Ultimately, “The Weight of Water” is a forgettable affair. There are a handful of interesting performances or moments on display. Overall, the twin stories do not connect in a meaningful way. The present-set sequences aren't as interesting as those in the past. The film is hampered by bizarre shifts in mood and a far too relaxed atmosphere. Bigelow was clearly attempting to make a grown-up, serious drama. Yet the material is lacking. “The Weight of Water” is by far the most overlooked of Bigelow's films and it's easy to understand why. [Grade: C]

Director Report Card: Kathryn Bigelow (1995)

5. Strange Days

With “Point Break,” Kathryn Bigelow had the first real commercial success of her career. As sometimes happens, she followed this up with her most ambitious film yet. In a nice coincidence of fate, “Point Break” was almost named "Riders on the Storm." Her next film would also be named after a song by the Doors. The initial idea for “Strange Days” was conceived by James Cameron, Bigelow's ex-husband. One can spot Cameron's fingerprints – a sci-fi premise, an almost fetishistic tough female lead – but Bigelow would make the material entirely her own. The resulting film was deeply uneven. Some critics defended it, others condemned it, and audiences ignored it. In 2017, is it time to reevaluate “Strange Days?”

The year is 1999 but just barely. The new millennium begins in two days. Los Angeles is embroiled in racial tension and crime. Lenny Nero is a dealer in SQUID technology. Those are video disc that, when paired with a special player, allows you to see and feel the events inside a recording. Naturally, the technology is used for porn. And snuff. After Nero is sent a disturbing SQUID video, showing a brutal home invasion/rape/murder, he is drawn further into the L.A underworld. Hours before the start of a new year, Lenny has to deal with police corruption, a deranged killer, the music industry, criminal empires, and lost love.

“Strange Days” is a mainstream film that undeniably belongs to the genre of cyberpunk. The film predated “The Matrix,” the most successful of any cyberpunk film, by several years. However, the two share a similar aesthetic. House and industrial music is the soundtrack of the day. People wear lots of leather and sport weirdo hair cuts. Intense violence, kinky sex, and urban decay stand alongside each other. What pushes “Strange Days” truly towards cyberpunk is its intense focus on how technology changes the world. The SQUID technology isn't the usual kind of sci-fi technology. It doesn't make space travel quicker or uproot society. Instead, it's mostly used for recreational purposes, affecting more how we see life instead of life itself. Bigelow freely mixes noir troupes with sci-fi ones, creating the kind of dreary story William Gibson probably would've approved of.

A problem with “Strange Day” is how hilariously dated it immediately was. To be fair to Bigelow and Cameron, the story was first thought up in 1986. 1999 probably seemed way further off than in 1995, when the movie finally got released. Needless to say, the film does not accurately portray life as it existed at the end of the millennium. For those that remember 1999, you'll recall that California wasn't under martial law, industrial fashion was already passe, and the streets weren't abuzz with immersive video technology. Even our most fantastic sci-fi authors couldn't have predicted the internet, which was just beginning to change life forever. They wouldn't have guessed that stupid computer bugs, school shootings, and presidential blowjobs would be the biggest causes of end-of-the-millennium anxiety. Yet setting the film so recent in the future was a risky move. Just four years after its release, “Strange Days” was irrecoverably dated.

In truth, “Strange Days” seems to more accurately portray the new tens than the early naughties. Technology like the SQUIDs doesn't exist and is probably impossible. What we do have is immersive VR like the Oculus Rift, micro-cameras in eye glasses, and powerful computers in everybody's pockets. People do make POV recordings of their lives and present them to the world. It's just done on YouTube, instead of through illegal MiniDisc. The film's racial threads seem most prescient. Though obviously inspired by the Rodney King beatings, a world where police officers are openly hostile against racial minorities sadly reflects 2017. So does more compact video technology making this violence more visible. Truthfully, “Strange Days” just undershot its setting. Bump the date up seventeen years and we'd be calling this movie pretty accurate, instead of utterly incorrect. (Though not even sci-fi story tellers as bold as Bigelow and Cameron would have predicted that a B-list celebrity and evil man-child would be our president now.)

For its interesting attributes, “Strange Days” is plagued by a number of problems. The biggest of which is a deeply miscast lead actor. Ralph Finnes plays Lenny Nero. Finnes is a great actor, capable of being a stately voice of authority and an utterly sinister villain. Even in his most wicked roles, he's still a dignified presence. Lenny Nero is a slimy, pathetic conman. He has perpetually greasy hair and wears garish outfits. Finnes does not project these qualities. The actor has no issue embodying the character's arc, of a hopeless man learning he's loved. He's just not right for the part, bringing too many respectable qualities to what should be a totally feckless individual. The worst insult is that Finnes' American accent is constantly slipping. You can't help but picture someone like James Woods, Steve Buscemi, or Christopher Walken in the part instead.

The leading lady is much better cast. Angela Basset plays Mace. A professional driver, she's one of Lenny's only real friends. And being Lenny's friend is hard, as she's constantly grappling with his sleazy ways. Watching the relationship between these two characters grow is interesting. What's more compelling is just how bad ass Basset is. She beats up a trio of thugs attacking Nero, in one especially impressive moment. When her car is set on fire, she takes a direct solution to the problem: Driving into the bay. Later, she's right beside the male hero as they rush into trouble, taking attackers head on. Basset is so good in the part that you wish the whole movie was about her tough but vulnerable character. You also wish that “Strange Days” had been successful enough to launch Basset to a whole career of action movie roles.

There's a problem with Basset's character though. She's in love with Lenny. We see brief glimpses of Nero's previous life, as a respected police officer. Despite their personal connection, it's impossible to believe someone as strong as Mace would be stuck on someone as pathetic as Lenny. Part of Lenny's sad life is his obsession with his ex-girlfriend, Faith. Nero's prior life with Faith was seemingly angelic. Now, she's sleeping with a scum bag record producer and spending time in seedy bars. You can tell how nice her life with Lenny was because those flashbacks are brightly lit. Her current life is gloomy and sweaty. (If that's too subtle, she's also dyed her hair a darker color.) Juliette Lewis plays Faith as some sort of grunge-rock sex pixie, her personality varying due to the whims of the script. Similarly, if Faith is so lousy to him, why is Lenny still so in love with her? The criss-crossing tales of unrequited love is convoluted but ultimately too emotionally simple, leading to an utterly dishonest final scene.

What really caught people's eye about “Strange Days” in 1995 were the SQUID sequences. The first person perspective shots recall the gritty, on-the-ground action direction Bigelow employed in “Point Break.” They also bring voyeuristic horror films to mind. The audience is put behind the eyes of a sadistic serial rapist and murderer. One sequence shows the attacker breaking into an apartment, tying up a woman, assaulting and then killing her. It's an intense, sickening moment. This scene is reprised later in the film as a session of kinky sex, really messing with the viewer. It's powerfully, unnerving stuff and Bigelow pulls it off excellently. I just wish the film used this moments to comment on voyeurism and the effect technology has on it a little more.

In addition to Finnes and Basset, a number of other fine performers appear in “Strange Days.” Tom Sizemore, an actor who has never had any problems playing an unlikable part, brings an earthy sleaze to his supporting part. Though her character is inconsistently written, Juliette Lewis is very attractive in her part. An early scene, in which she wears a leg-warmers/bikini bottom/tank top combo while on roller skates must truly be seen. You don't understand why Lenny loves her now but you certainly get why he loved her then. Vincent D'Noferia is all intense bluster as the racist, scumbag cop. He makes for a good villain. William Fichtner shows up as his partner, bringing some sweaty looks with him. Michael Wincott sports a bizarre accent as the scummy record producer but otherwise brings the hatable qualities necessary for the part.

Reportedly, James Cameron's original treatment for “Strange Days” was rambling and way too long. Jay Cocks pared Cameron's words down into something manageable. Yet “Strange Days” still feels disorganized in its plotting. Eventually, it's revealed that the serial killer, the SQUID trade, the racist cops, and the shady record producer are barely connected. Some of those elements don't connect at all. It's as if the movie was attempting a film noir style plotting but half-assed it. These surplus of loose ends come crashing together in the film's final act. “Strange Days” features an especially egregious cliché. The bad guy appears to the hero and explains every detail of his plan.  He even mentions that he intends to kill him as soon as he's done. Gee whiz, why don't you just kill him now?

Another problem with “Strange Days” is that it's too long. The film is two hours and twenty-eight minutes. You really begin to feel that in the last twenty minutes. After the true identity of the killer is revealed, the story feels more-or-less resolved. Instead, “Strange Days” continues to roll on. We get yet more dramatic reveals, more bad guys meeting their untimely demises, more social unrest. These scenes also feature a rather blunt recreation of the Rodney King beating, which is in debatable taste. This isn't just a failure of pacing but plotting. If the writer hadn't set up all these plot points, we wouldn't need a bloated finale devoted to resolving all of them.

Ultimately, “Strange Days” is an interesting but deeply uneven film. There are some clever ideas but the script is overstuffed. Some of the performances are really good. Others are miscalculated. The setting is impressive but also laughable. (Such as a rapper who is supposed to be an inspiring public figure... But really sucks at rapping.) I guess that's what you get from an equally dated and prescient motion picture. With a cleaner script, snappier run time, and different star, it could've easily been a sci-fi classic. Instead, it's an interesting but far from satisfying minor cult film. [Grade: C+]

Director Report Card: Kathryn Bigelow (1991)

4. Point Break

Kathryn Bigelow earned positive reviews with her first three features but the box office ranged from underwhelming to nonexistent. With her fourth theatrical film, Bigelow would have her first real commercial breakthrough. “Point Break” would be a hit in 1991 before becoming a cult favorite years later. Maybe “Point Break” was successful because it boasted the star power of Patrick Swayze, by then an established commodity, and Keanu Reeves, still a popular up-and-comer at the time. Maybe uncredited co-writer James Cameron's ability to tap into the popular zeitgeist helped. Maybe this was just the philosophical action/surfing combo the world needed at the time. Whatever the reason, “Point Break” remains perhaps Bigelow's most iconic film.

A gang of bank robbers have successfully pulled off thirty high profile robberies over the course of three years. They are called the Ex-Presidents, due to the presidential Halloween mask they wear, and have never been caught. A new FBI recruit, Johnny Utah, is brought in to track the gang. He develops a crazy theory, that the robbers are also surfers. Utah starts hanging out on the beach and meets a band of surfers. Their leader is a would-be shaman and wise man named Bodhi. Soon, Utah realizes that Bodhi and his surfing pals are the Ex-Presidents. Now, Utah has to make a choice between his duties as an officer and the new friends he's made.

“Point Break” is about as high concept as a premise can get. “It's a movie about bank robbers... Who are also surfers!” Yet what makes the film truly work is the sincerity with which it embraces this premise. This isn't a cop-chases-bank-robber story that happens to feature surfing or vice-versa. Both aspects of the plot are equally important, complimenting each other. This is, on its face, a rather silly combination. “Point Break” never looks back, making the surfing a philosophical component of its crime/action/thriller story. This straight-faced earnestness is likely why “Point Break” would become a cult classic years later, resulting in a movie that's cheesy but lovably so.

James Cameron might've co-scripted “Point Break” but Cameron's trademarks are hard to see in the film. Instead, this is totally Kathryn Bigelow's project. A number of the director's interests and trademarks shine through. Like “Near Dark's” Caleb, Johnny Utah is a hero pulled between two worlds. He feels fidelity to his duty as an undercover cop but comes to love Bodhi and his band of surfing robbers. As in “Blue Steel,” the film follows a hero that is not invigorated by violence. Instead, as Utah's adventure goes on, he becomes exhausted by bloodshed around him. “Point Break” is a far more flippant than “Near Dark” or “Blue Steel” yet the director's approach to combat remains very consistent. The death around Bigelow's heroes always weigh them down.

By the time “Point Break” had come out, Patrick Swayze had already made his mark on pop culture. The likes of “The Outsiders” and “Red Dawn” made him a teen star while “Dirty Dancing” and “Ghost” made him an international heartthrob. The most pertinent credit on Swayze's resume was the previous year's “Road House.” That film also featured Swayze playing a philosophizing bad-ass. While Bodhi is more villainous than the virtuous Dalton, both have something in common. They seek enlightenment through action. Bodhi sees surfing and bank robbing both as a way to transcend traditional cultural boundaries. By robbing banks, he transgresses social norms and escapes. By surfing, he feels a spiritual connection to the ocean, to the world around him. Swayze utilizes all his charm in the part, drawing more attention to Bodhi's bizarre philosophies than his amoral behavior, making him a real anti-villain.

In 2017, Keanu Reeves has been accepted as a lovable screen presence. His range might be limited but he always brings something ineffable to the movie around him. This was not the case in 1991. Reeves' particular delivery would be a point of mockery for years to come. People talked shit about his performance in “Point Break” but he's actually not bad. Reeves is actually about perfect for the part of Johnny Utah. The former Ted “Theodore” Logan has no issues playing the seemingly fried surfer dude. Reeves is also more than capable of playing Utah's conflicted emotions. He often acts to the heavens, screaming and shouting in that uniquely Keanu-esque way. Yes, an occasional line reading is a bit flat. Yes, Reeves' performance is sometimes odd. More often, though, he's perfectly in line with “Point Break's” campy, theatrical tone.

The bond between Utah and Bodhi is clearly the most important in the film. Like so many other eighties and nineties action flicks, the bromance quickly reaches homoerotic levels. Through his undercover mission, Johnny develops feelings for Taylor, a female surfer. Despite being played by Lori Petty at the peak of her quirky sex appeal, Utah frequently dumps her to spend time with Bodhi. In one especially memorable sequence, she more-or-less asks him to choose between his life as a surfer and his life as an FBI agent. Which is a convoluted way of asking him to choose between her and Bodhi. Utah proves his love by letting Bodhi escape. From that moment on, he gets multiple chances to stop Bodhi's crime spree. He's ostensibly playing along to protect his girlfriend but we know the real reason. “Hot Fuzz” said it best. He just loves him too much.

One also can't help but notice the oddball bit of political satire floating around inside “Point Break.” The bank robbers disguising themselves as former presidents wasn't just an aesthetic decision. The film calls it out early on. While dressed as Ronald Reagan, Bodhi announces why his gang chose this costume. Because politicians have been stealing people's money for years. Might as well make it literal. “Point Break” was released during the brief era of Bush the First, right on the heels of the Reagan administration. Depicting Reagan as the leader of a gang of bank robbers can't help but come off as a comment on Reagan's “trickle down” economics, a way to rob the poor and give to the rich. It also speaks to Bodhi's anti-government beliefs.

This stuff is interesting but probably not why audiences responded to “Point Break.” The action sequences are top-notch. Bigelow packs her film with at least three spectacular chase scenes. The first is a pretty great car chase. The closed quarters of the freeway are utilized well, as vehicles smash into each other. Lots of back glass is shot, along with many bent fenders. This leads into a far more spectacular foot chase. That's a sequence that begins with Swayze making an improvised flamethrower from a gas pump. Later in the chase, he throws a fucking dog at Keanu. Better yet, the filmmaker's camera gets right in there with the actors, careening around corners with them. After thoroughly covering the ground, “Point Break” also throws a chase scene into the air. A lovably preposterous stunt involves Utah free-falling from an airplane, catching up with Bodhi before he hits the ground.

“Point Blank” also squarely belongs to a style of bloody, hyper-violent action film that would, eventually, fall out of fashion in the nineties. As in “Blue Steel,” the shoot-outs are high impact. People are thrown backwards by gun blast, huge spurts of blood leaving their body. A shoot-out in a cramped house features head shots, heavy bleeding, and some gratuitous nudity. The heaviest violence occurs during the Ex-President's final, botched robbery. When the gang members are shot down, their pain and agony is felt. Blood is shown seeping through their clothes, the deaths being anything but clean. This continues onto the tarmac of the next scene, when a supporting character takes several bullets before biting the dust. Even in a relatively light weight popcorn flick like this one, Bigelow is preoccupied with the weight, the cost, of violence.

For all the attempts at seriousness “Point Break” makes, the film is undeniably steeped in early nineties cheese. Look no further than the surreal dialogue, spat with venom by two incredibly entertaining supporting performers. Gary Busey plays Pappas, Utah's older partner. Busey's typically unhinged energy is perfectly suited to the part. Pappas delivers rambling, bizarre dialogue about meatball subs, the quality of air and sex in L.A., and the various gross things people younger than him were doing while he was in Vietnam. When not shouting hilarious things, Busey successfully mingles a sense of authority with the vibrating madness he specializes in.

But it's not like Busey has the monopoly on weird dialogue in this movie. Keanu and Swayze pepper their lines with hilarious surfer slang. Your “radicals,” 'brahs,” “babes,” and “bros.” Some of the best one-liners, however, are saved for John C. McGinley. He plays Ben Cross, the hard ass FBI chief supervising the case. McGinley gleefully plays a jerk. He derides Utah's youth, in a memorably rhyming way. He despises the surfboard the younger agent carries into the office, going off on him. He's not a big fan of Busey either, the two trading verbal barbs before trading physical barbs. Even the smaller supporting parts are packed with recognizable faces. You might recognize Vincent Klynn from “Cyborg” and the Red Hot Chili Peppers' Anthony Kledis in bit parts as other surfers.

Further emphasizing “Point Break's” indelible connection to the nineties is a soundtrack packed with bands like RATT, Concrete Blonde, and Public Image Ltd. Honestly, the mixture of graphic violence, intense action, goofy dialogue, macho bravado, and dated cheese probably shouldn't work. Yet “Point Break's” parts are greater than its whole. All the components mix together into a clearly appealing whole. Just ask any of the film's die hard fans. Such as those who watch it religiously or even created a stage show based on the film. (These same fans ignored the recent remake, which was totally forgettable by all accounts.) I'm not a die hard “Point Break” fan but, I have to admit, the film is certainly a blast to watch. [Grade: B]