Patrick Swayze

I never saw Patrick Swayze in his breakout role in Dirty Dancing (1987), which seemed to dog him for the rest of his career. But I'm sure it was a great example of the stunning physicality and grace he seemed to bring to each of his performances. That grace helped elevate what could have been a silly role in a B-movie—the spectral Sam Wheat in Ghost (1990)—to one with which the romantic in all of us could identify. My first exposure to the sweet, yet volatile, actor was in Coppola's underrated classic The Outsiders (1983), where he brought a gravitas to the role of oldest brother Darrel that helped set an example for the rest of the cast, mostly made up of then unknown Brat Packers like Emilio Estevez, Rob Lowe, and a young goofball by the name of Tom Cruise. Swayze would again be the anchor amongst his younger cohorts—Charlie Sheen, C. Thomas Howell, Jennifer Grey and others—in the right-wing Soviet invasion fantasy, Red Dawn (1984), where his horrified reaction to the thought of executing a friend who betrayed him ran counter to the movie's sensibilities, and generously provided a scene-stealing moment for fellow actor Howell. Because that was just the kind of actor he was. He'd take the backseat if he knew a fellow performer had a shot at stealing the show. How else can one explain his receding from view on a now legendary Saturday Night Live sketch, where Swayze—an athletic dancer—competes with the obese late comedian, Chris Farley, for a slot as a Chippendale dancer, and Farley wins the slot. However, Swayze was not above taking the spotlight when the situation called for it. As Southerner Orry Main in TV's Civil War miniseries, North and South (1985) and its sequel, he ran circles around his co-star James Read, who wrongly decided to underplay the part of his former best friend and Northerner, George Hazard. And he shone in an episode of Spielberg's Amazing Stories called "Life on Death Row" (1986), where—years before Stephen King wrote The Green Mile—he played a convicted murderer on Death Row who miraculously acquires the power to heal. All of this, Swayze accomplished before he hit it big with Dirty Dancing... which I did not see. Yes, Swayze had plenty of misfires after that, as many actors do in pursuit of the next big hit. Road House, Next of Kin, City of Joy are all... forgettable. But if there's one part that demonstrated that there was a powerful actor in there whose depths had not truly been plumbed, it was his role as the surfing philosopher/bank robber Bodhi in Point Break (1991). It even sounds funny when describing it. But Kathryn Bigelow's marvelous genre mash-up of surf movie by way of crime thriller is deservedly a cult classic, and it afforded Swayze his best chance yet to exhibit both his intensity as an actor and his physical ability. Instead of using a stunt double, he ended up doing all of the skydiving and most of the surfing himself. He never again had another part that quite harnessed his unique brand of energy in that way again. But as his determination to keep acting (in the daily grind of a TV series no less) while he fought with pancreatic cancer over the final years of his life demonstrated, and his near-40-year-long romance with wife Lisa Niemi attested, the man walked it like he talked it in his personal life also. Patrick Swayze died today at the age of 57. Recommended Films - The Outsiders, Red Dawn, Ghost, Point Break

Movie Review: The Hurt Locker

In The Hurt Locker, Sgt. William James (Jeremy Renner) has just taken command of Bravo unit, an EOD team of bomb techs in Iraq with about a month left on their rotation before they ship home. For his other squad members, Sgt. Sanborn (Anthony Mackie) and Specialist Eldridge (Brian Geraghty)—who just lost their previous team leader in a detonation gone awry—the remainder of their time is a ticking time bomb that will inevitably go off early if they don't tread carefully. For James, it is a countdown of a different sort, one which he wants to stretch to infinity in avoidance of his return home to a life and family he can hardly relate to anymore. Director Kathryn Bigelow (Point Break) focuses on James throughout, delineating the character of a man who has been so efficiently trained by the military to thrive under the extreme pressure of defusing bombs; so inured to the consequences of the violence he dances with everyday, that he can no longer switch off the adrenaline addiction he's cultivated in order to survive. James can be sensitive, confiding in Sanborn that he isn't their to replace their venerated commander, only to be a team player; or fostering a friendship with a young Iraqi boy, "Beckham," who like him, seems to be thriving in the war zone (selling black market DVDs in his case). But every indulgence of sentiment he gives in to is immediately refuted by the circumstances of his harrowing surroundings. Bigelow returns to her exploration of men who live in an extended moment between life and death. But whereas in the past, she expressed the danger of such a balancing act, she now validates it by giving it its proper context. The character of Caleb (Adrian Pasdar) in Near Dark (1987) was forced to conform to walking this highwire by the gang of vampires who "turned" him. Point Break's Bodhi (Patrick Swayze) wallows in the existentialism of living in the moment, partaking in progressively more dangerous activities while pursued by Johnny "I am an FBI agent" Utah (Keanu Reeves)—who himself is tempted by the same liberating rush, but cautious not too look as deeply into that abyss. Even Lenny (Ralph Fiennes) is drawn into a dangerous cat-and-mouse by the taboo enticement of a rape-murder he relives on a virtual reality clip, in Strange Days (1995). Perhaps Bigelow's most extreme expression of the danger inherent of sustained exposure to the thrill preceding death can be found in Ron Silver's Eugene Hunt, in Blue Steel (1989). Eugene becomes addicted to the power he feels when brandishing a firearm he picks up after witnessing a rookie cop lose it during a shooting. The former stock broker finds that not even the thrill of the financial markets can compare, becoming twisted by his constant temptation to attain the orgasmic high he can now only get from firing the weapon. In The Hurt Locker, Bigelow sanctions the same quality she previously expressed misgivings about by allowing that war provides the proper outlet for man's usually reprehensible addiction to violent stimulation. James recognizes the societal disapproval he would normally face, and chooses to indulge in his pathology alone. Breaking procedure in the initial bomb threat he faces with his new team, he suits up, going in himself to defuse the IUD, rather than send in the remote control robot that protocol calls for. The moment doesn't inspire respect in his teammates as much as it does incredulity. Eldridge is fearful that he may be called upon to kill any sniper that tries to sideline the suited-up James (a failure he perceives to be the cause of his previous commander's death). Sanborn is disgusted at the recklessness of the act. Yet after a night of drinking, Sanborn feels the need to ask James if he thinks he has what it takes to suit up. You can hear the wistfulness in James' voice when he answers Sanborn, "Nah, you don't have it in you." Renner's performance as James is spectacular. Always cool in even the most nerve-racking situations, he is nonetheless able to evoke the vulnerability of the man at some surprising moments. When he is in his protective gear—facing a man forced to be a suicide bomber and apologizing for his inability to defuse the device he is locked into in the sufficient amount of time—he doesn't seem nearly as human as when he is back home in the States, faced with a monumental decision of which cereal to buy at the supermarket. At that moment, he seems lost, a slow fuse burning down ever shorter within him at the prospect that life with his family holds no victories for him to measure himself by. For men like James, Bigelow declares, only the battlefield can serve as home.