Rotten Tomatoes: 14%
I entered the theater expecting to leave ugly crying after the ritualistic slaughtering of one of my favorite films of all time. I was wholly anticipating the same pain Utah felt when he blew his knee to spaghetti noodles and negligently unloaded a goddamn full clip directly into the air. The pain never came. Instead I felt my face being bludgeoned by a butt ton of extreme shit. The reimagining of Point Break will concurrently rip your fucking head off and melt your ring piece and anyone who gives a damn about inexplicable plot anomalies, alien dialogue or even a sliver of character development can sit on it.
Rumor has it the actors were placed in hyperbolic chambers before the movie; only able to watch Dragon Ball Z and do lines of Doritos JACKED 3D off of hunting knifes. This movie went back in time and made that 90’s brand No Fear popular. It ghost wrote Nookie by Limp Bizkit and told Gary Busey to order not one but two meatball sandwiches. It was the inspiration behind Jean Claude van Damme’s first splits. Vin Diesel sips his morning extenZ Energy drink to this movie, not because he needs the girth but rather because he enjoys the flavor and the subsequent uncomfortable amount of energy.
Point Break will make man-gazing an official thing. I’m almost positive I’ve never looked into another dudes eyes for more than 5 seconds without at least some spoken word or noise. In this movie there was so much gazing and so much corresponding deafening silence; it was simultaneously exceptionally uncomfortable and beautiful. Plenty of other awkward and endearing bro moments were also present. Like cooking a rustic meal together and holding hands before eating, or placing your hand on the back of another bros neck to make locking foreheads feel more natural. This being in the somewhat rare circumstance you actually find the need to experience conjoining forehead flesh with another person.
The reimagining had a perfect balance of new and old absurdities. A combination of subtle and not so subtle nods to the original that pays homage without being dependent. Bodhi is transformed into a perfectly crafted quasi-hipster d-bag and Tyler is a manic pixie dream girl, but they somehow seem like a natural evolution of the characters. Both pleasantly outrageous and flawlessly acted. Utah has hung up his cleats in turn for a motocross helmet and a shit ton of really bad tattoos, but goddamn there are times when Luke Bracey seems like he could have slid right into the 1991 original.
Hearing those wailing guitar riffs and oddly timed line deliveries took me right back. Having a belly full of an inexplicable combination of Rasberry Shock Tops and Parrot Bay didn’t hurt either. I felt as though I was a rebel in Bodhi’s crew as I courageously battled the urge to vomit in my popcorn bag on several occasions. My own stand against society. My way of giving back. Nothing like stoking the fire of an impending blackout by being completely overwhelmed by endless action sequences. So get a neck tat, grab a bottle of artifically flavored silver rum, butt funnel some Monster and go relish in everything extreme you coward.