Ugly is what we do, son.

Point Break

(2015)

(SPOILERS) Hollywood evidently has an endless capacity for remakes, and most of them end up redundant at best. This takes a new biscuit for pointlessness, however, an irreducibly soggy, surf-saturated one, that embraces ineptitude beyond the bounds of the reasonably feasible. Kathryn Bigelow’s original is still a titan in terms of direction (the bank robbery! That foot chase!), and supported by a perfect cast (rarely better Keanu, Patrick Swizzle, Lori Petty, all of them definitely needing sympathetic directors; Gary Busey is a legend in whatever he’s in, of course). Point Break 2015 has a shitty director and a shitty cast, zero sense of humour, an inverse surfeit of awesome and 0% testosterone.

I’ll be fair and admit that Edgar Ramirez, Delroy Lindo and Ray Winstone (sounding like his mouth is full of toothpaste) are all passably non-descript and borderline forgettable, while Teresa Palmer (or is that Kristen Stewart?) actually is forgettable.

Luke Bracey, on the other hand, the latest Australian export to bungee into the blockbuster scene and ricochet right out of it again, flaunts ludicrous tattoos in the place of a personality and boasts the award-winning mullet of Chesney Hawkes. Poor Luke’s an utterly charisma-free chump who makes the likes of Sam Courtney and Jai Worthington look like Russell Crowe (the next generation of whom being, let’s face it, the guy all the casting agents are scouring the Outback for).

So, while there’s an occasional laugh, it’s entirely down to the vacuum Bracey leaves when attempting to fill Keanu’s shoes, most mirthfully as he repeats the classic “firing the gun in the air out of frustrated bromance” moment (see also Hot Fuzz). In the opening scene too, when he loses a dearest pal, his emotional breakdown is a hoot to behold.

Ericson Core, who sounds like a failed mobile phone model released a decade past its time, is both director and cinematographer, and bathes the picture in a hopeless green hue while entirely flunking the main task of investing the action with a modicum of excitement, engagement or thrills.

Which is a fairly significant drawback, since this is trying to outdo the extreme sports of the original with a band of extreme sports guys in pursuit of spiritual enlightenment (some nonsense about completing the Ozaki 8 – ordeals to honour the forces of nature), courtesy of a Kurt Wimmer screenplay (last sighted delivering the bust of a Total Recall remake script); there’s something of a Now You See Me complete lack of believability attached to all of the feats (aside from the man-glider scene which is so uncool, it’s very nearly cool). Indeed, we’re frequently fed rubbish green screen (or would it have been blue, since everything else is green?), entirely failing to suspend our disbelief (most notably with the big wave finale).

When Bracey reveals he’s FBI it’s a no-kind-of-anything moment, in a no-kind-of-anything movie that managed to film in 11 different countries and make all of them look less than impressive. Point Break is truly an abominable beast. To coin their reference to the original title, this one had reached breaking point on the drawing board.

Agree? Disagree? Mildly or vehemently? Let me know in the comments below.

The Bible never said anything about amphetamines.

The Color of Money (1986) (SPOILERS) I tend to think it’s evident when Scorsese isn’t truly exercised by material. He can still invest every ounce of the technical acumen at his fingertips, and the results can dazzle on that level, but you don’t really feel the filmmaker in the film. Which, for one of his pictures to truly carry a wallop, you need to do. We’ve seen quite a few in such deficit in recent years, most often teaming with Leo. The Color of Money , however, is the first where it was out-and-out evident the subject matter wasn’t Marty’s bag. He needed it, desperately, to come off, but in the manner a tradesman who wants to keep getting jobs. This sequel to The Hustler doesn’t linger in the mind, however good it may be, moment by moment.

I said I had no family. I didn’t say I had an empty apartment.

The Apartment (1960) (SPOILERS) Billy Wilder’s romcom delivered the genre that rare Best Picture Oscar winner. Albeit, The Apartment amounts to a rather grim (now) PG-rated scenario, one rife with adultery, attempted suicide, prostitution of the soul and subjective thereof of the body. And yet, it’s also, finally, rather sweet, so salving the darker passages and evidencing the director’s expertly judged balancing act. Time Out ’s Tom Milne suggested the ending was a cop out (“ boy forgives girl and all’s well ”). But really, what other ending did the audience or central characters deserve?

Listen to the goddamn qualified scientists!

Don’t Look Up (2021) (SPOILERS) It’s testament to Don’t Look Up ’s “quality” that critics who would normally lap up this kind of liberal-causes messaging couldn’t find it within themselves to grant it a free pass. Adam McKay has attempted to refashion himself as a satirist since jettisoning former collaborator Will Ferrell, but as a Hollywood player and an inevitably socio-politically partisan one, he simply falls in line with the most obvious, fatuous propagandising.

Your desecration of reality will not go unpunished.

2021-22 Best-of, Worst-of and Everything Else Besides The movies might be the most visible example of attempts to cling onto cultural remnants as the previous societal template clatters down the drain. It takes something people really want – unlike a Bond movie where he kicks the can – to suggest the model of yesteryear, one where a billion-dollar grosser was like sneezing. You can argue Spider-Man: No Way Home is replete with agendas of one sort or another, and that’s undoubtedly the case (that’s Hollywood), but crowding out any such extraneous elements (and they often are) is simply a consummate crowd-pleaser that taps into tangible nostalgia through its multiverse take. Of course, nostalgia for a mere seven years ago, for something you didn’t like anyway, is a symptom of how fraught these times have become.

Doctors make the worst patients.

Coma (1978) (SPOILERS) Michael Crichton’s sophomore big-screen feature, and by some distance his best. Perhaps it’s simply that this a milieu known to him, or perhaps it’s that it’s very much aligned to the there-and-now and present, but Coma , despite the occasional lapse in this adaptation of colleague Robin Cook’s novel, is an effective, creepy, resonant thriller and then some. Crichton knows his subject, and it shows – the picture is confident and verisimilitudinous in a way none of his other directorial efforts are – and his low-key – some might say clinical – approach pays dividends. You might also call it prescient, but that would be to suggest its subject matter wasn’t immediately relevant then too.

You ruined every suck-my-silky-ass thing!

The Matrix Resurrections (2021) (SPOILERS) Warner Bros has been here before. Déjà vu? What happens when you let a filmmaker do whatever they want? And I don’t mean in the manner of Netflix. No, in the sequel sense. You get a Gremlins 2: The New Batch (a classic, obviously, but not one that financially furthered a franchise). And conversely, when you simply cash in on a brand, consequences be damned? Exorcist II: The Heretic speaks for itself. So in the case of The Matrix Resurrections – not far from as meta as The New Batch , but much less irreverent – when Thomas “Tom” Anderson, designer of globally successful gaming trilogy The Matrix , is told “ Our beloved company, Warner Bros, has decided to make a sequel to the trilogy ” and it’s going ahead “with or without us”, you can be fairly sure this is the gospel. That Lana, now going it alone, decided it was better to “make the best of it” than let her baby be sullied. Of course, quite what that amounts to in the case of a movie(s) tha

You just threw a donut in the hot zone!

Den of Thieves (2018) (SPOILERS) I'd heard this was a shameless Heat rip-off, and the presence of Gerard Butler seemed to confirm it would be passable-at-best B-heist hokum, so maybe it was just middling expectations, even having heard how enthused certain pockets of the Internet were, but Den of Thieves is a surprisingly very satisfying entry in the genre. I can't even fault it for attempting to Keyser Soze the whole shebang at the last moment – add a head in a box and you have three 1995 classics in one movie – even if that particular conceit doesn’t quite come together.

Abandon selective targeting. Shoot everything.

28 Weeks Later (2007) (SPOILERS) The first five minutes of 28 Weeks Later are far and away the best part of this sequel, offering in quick succession a devastating moral quandary and a waking nightmare, immortalised on the screen. After that, while significantly more polished, Juan Carlos Fresnadillo reveals his concept to be altogether inferior to Danny Boyle and Alex Garland’s, falling back on the crutches of gore, nihilism, and disengaging and limiting shifts of focus between characters in whom one has little investment in the first place.

It’s always possible to find a good moral reason for killing anybody.

The Assassination Bureau (1969) (SPOILERS) The Assassination Bureau ought to be a great movie. You can see its influence on those who either think it is a great movie, or want to produce something that fulfils its potential. Alan Moore and The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen . The just-released (and just-flopped) The King’s Men . It inhabits a post-Avengers, self-consciously benign rehearsal of, and ambivalence towards, Empire manners and attitudes, something that could previously be seen that decade in Those Magnificent Men in Their Flying Machines (and sequel Monte Carlo or Bust , also 1969), Adam Adamant Lives! , and even earlier with Kind Hearts and Coronets , whilst also feeding into that “Peacock Revolution” of Edwardian/Victorian fashion refurbishment. Unfortunately, though, it lacks the pop-stylistic savvy that made, say, The President’s Analyst so vivacious.

This guy’s armed with a hairdryer.

An Innocent Man (1989) (SPOILERS) Was it a chicken-and-egg thing with Tom Selleck and movies? Did he consistently end up in ropey pictures because other, bigger big-screen stars had first dibs on the good stuff? Or was it because he was a resolutely small-screen guy with limited range and zero good taste? Selleck had about half-a-dozen cinema outings during the 1980s, one of which, the very TV, very Touchstone Three Men and a Baby was a hit, but couldn’t be put wholly down to him. The final one was An Innocent Man , where he attempted to show some grit and mettle, as nice-guy Tom is framed and has to get tough to survive. Unfortunately, it’s another big-screen TV movie.

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

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