I was channel surfing (unintended pun) while watching something else (I can’t recall what) and landed on a show discussing cult movies. It talked about this one. Never saw it before. Didn’t know anything about it other that Keanu had cheesy lines, the blood looked fake, it was filled with clichés, and it had my favourite movie uncle actor, Gary Busey (remember him in Silver Bullet? Love the chemistry between him and young Corey Haim of Lost Boys fame).
Anyway, as early-Keanu-Reeves-movie-feeling it had, it was far better than expected. Patrick Swayze was excellent. Watching him full of life made me sad. I was never a hardcore fan, but I adored him in this flick. Maybe Matthew Alright, alright, alright, could have played this role, but Patrick was charismatic and mesmerizing. I liked his long, surfer hair and the darkness he brought to the role. It was as dark as he was f’n creepy in Donnie Darko.
I judge movies by what they leave me with. The more I think about them, the more I want to think about them. And that I like. This movie moved me in a weird, unexpected way. It was cheesy, for certain. But there are a few underlying messages that have got me pondering on this thing. It garnered a whole new respect for Patrick. I am even more saddened by his passing, and especially saddened for his fans.
Suspend your beliefs and absorb. But there is lots of reality in this one. James Cameron? Really? Katheryn Bigalow? No way. Yup. This was one of theirs. I was shocked. When I watch it again someday, I’ll watch with a more analytical eye. But for now…