Every Little Thing I Adore About 'Point Blank'

Seriously, who couldn’t love Point Blank? Dropping into the psycadellic soup of the late-60s right as New Hollywood was first revving into gear, this deadpan mindfuck was a daring early dose of what the industry would finally be putting their faith in over the next decade.

In a way it’s a perfect example of New Hollywood’s cultural shockwave: Kicking a standard American revenge thriller through experimental European influences and watching the sparks fly as the fallacy of cheap crime fiction is torn to pieces by the frenzied delusions of dead men. Let's get into it...

The deafening gunshot that kicks the film off, coupled with the sheer audacity of director John Boorman immediately stamping the lead star’s credit over footage of him catching a bullet in the gut.

How quickly we get to share Walker’s perspective through his voice-over narration. A movie as narratively opaque as Point Blank could easily come off as cold and distant if not for this tiny foundational moment that makes it clear the main character is right there with us trying to figure out what the fuck is going down.

And the way Boorman doesn’t over-do it with the narration. Walker frames the entire sequence with the simple phrase “how did I get here?”- and this question is allowed to take on new layers of depth as the answers we find begin to contradict eachother. Boorman plays into the kinetic confusion of his cross-cut presentation by again allowing the character to be just as baffled as their audience and giving both a clear objective to try and categorise the chaos.

Intersplicing still photographs into the opening credits to add this bizarre, frozen strangeness into the atmospheric cocktail. Is Walker already dead, trapped in time?

Alcatraz Island is such a great metaphor for a man marooned between worlds. It’s unclear whether Walker is alive or dead- and by extension if the entire film is just going on inside his head. Maybe the whole of Point Blank is just a revenge fantasy flashing through his crumbling mind as his last few synapses burn themselves out. Fading away in a pool of his own blood, the only action he can take is imagining a better ending to his story.

Point Blank doesn’t give a single fuck- and it has the guts to make that abundantly clear from the outset so we can more easily settle into that mindset and enjoy the ride. We hear tour-guide prattle about the impossibility of escaping from Alcatraz while we watch Walker slip into the deadly waters, then beautifully jump cut to him resting against the side of a tour boat; gazing at the island from which he’s seemingly escaped. How? Why? Does it matter when in his own head, he’s free?

The detective asking “how did you make it?” and Walker just staring him down without an answer. Hilarious. The movie knows this is everyone’s first question- but Lee Marvin’s commanding silence is the only response we need.

Boorman cross-cutting these brilliantly pure shots of Walker storming through the terminal with his double-crossing wife getting ready in the morning, clearly having nightmares of his revenge. These moments could easily be separate- but the film-makers so easily elevate both scenes by smashing them together so their emotional cores are forced into direct conflict.

The sound of Walker’s footsteps continuing even while he’s driving, synching up with the rising score to become a rhythmic representation of his relentless pursuit.

This is a random cutaway shot from the montage- literally just Walker’s wife going about her day. How many movies would go to the trouble of getting an image like this? Just another vital part of Point Blank exercising its unique creative vision at every chance it can make.

Lee Marvin’s absolutely genius choice to not say a word during their confrontation. The scene was actually written as a full confessional conversation between the two, like we’ve all seen before in a million movies- but Marvin decided to subvert this cliché on the day of shooting by sitting there in total silence. The result is unforgettable: He’s seething, thinking- meditating on his next movie. She’s stunned, expecting rage but met with a brick wall of indifference, trying to find a way through to survival. I’d love to see more movies try this, even if you’re struggling to come up with something for your characters to say- why not try and find a solution that make silence speak in ways dialogue never could.

The one-shot flashback to their strange, beautiful, wordless first meeting. Was it actually like this, or have they just forgotten what they said? All they remember are the feelings so intense that they went beyond words.

Lee Marvin’s wonderfully ridiculous late-60s swimming trunks.

I LOVE the fact that whenever we see something for a second time, the editor uses a different take to play with our perception of what actually happened. In this way, the deceptive drift of our memory is built into the fabric of the film’s DNA.

This disarmingly tender scene where Walker discovers his wife dead by overdose. Boorman lets the piercingly quiet moment run as long as it needs, as if Walker is trapped imagining how he should act here. Beautifully human.

The choice to film this reaction shot through a mesh grille with soft focus that sloooowly tightens up, perfectly visualising Walker’s hazy perspective. Always be looking for opportunities to externalise your characters’ inner worlds like this. So simple, and it works like a charm.

The way the investigator is just waiting outside at exactly the right time. Point Blank’s deliciously intentional contrivance plays into its perfect dismantling of revenge stories. It sets up this cheap thriller plot, strips it of any detective work or detail and allows us to watch the character painstakingly discover the empty ‘reward’ of vengeance. Even when the plot itself hands each new target to him on a plate, there is no catharsis- just more bodies.

Again, so many conventional editors would cut to this shot just as Walker is emerging THROUGH this doorway- but instead we start it just a few frames earlier to visualise the character’s disassociation. Before we even see him we know he’s just a shadow on the door, still waiting to go through. Never forget that there is always something special hiding in the few frames before and after most people would cut, take every opportunity you can to find it!

Point Blank’s trippy, devilishly repetitive plotting again perfectly illustrating the fallacy of revenge flicks. Walker’s story is a blank slate paved in dead men he doesn’t know and we are actively given no reason to give a shit. I mean really, who on god’s grey earth cares about Big John and his car lot? Nobody. Exactly. Given the prevalence of bloodthirsty revenge pictures in the 70s, Point Blank undermined their cheap sadism years before they even had a chance.

The slimy interaction between Big John and his tiny-prick protégée. It’s a nasty moment but it again reinforces the film’s point: I bet half the audience think this scene is enough to justify whatever violence Walker ‘needs’ to inflict later. Reminds me of watching slasher movies with people who have cheered for certain characters who they find “annoying” to be ripped to pieces. Goes to show how flippantly cruel genre flicks can really make us.

The random dude lurking under the freeways while Walker messes with Big John. I love extras like this, really helps quietly bring the world to life.

The way Big John’s ad is still playing, even when Walker drags him out of the wrecked car. Say what you want about the guy- that’s one durable stereo.

The jazz singer getting the stuffy businessmen in his audience to half-heartedly scream into the mic with him. Hilarious, and a great little detail.

How realistically brutal Walker is in this fight. He knows these guys are there to kill him, and doesn’t hold back. Bottles one poor bloke in the face before he even swings a punch, then rocks the other guy right in his dick while he’s down. No messing around, he tries to end the fight as quickly as possible and immediately runs once they’re both down.

Everything about this conversation. Marvin is a wall again- unflinching and brutal. His questions are cut to the bone, simple and lethal. Dickinson decides to play around him beautifully, basically accepting he’s not going to give her anything and choosing to head off into her own world- wandering into little monologues about where her life is at and feeding him his answers along the way. I’ve so rarely seen a dialogue scene performed this way- and it sets up their dynamic perfectly.

This faceless, stunningly stygian composition. Prefigures the kind of thing Gordon Willis would lens in the following decade.

Lee Marvin’s little mustard dressing gown.

This guard smirking at Reece’s weight when he frisks him. This is the first time we’re really seeing that Reece is just a small cog in a much bigger machine- and what better way to emasculate him than to have the organisation’s petty underlings giggling in his face.

This random guard staring into the sky, watching a bird or a plane or a cloud or something. Anything. He’s been standing there for hours and is bored senseless. Lots of crime movies have nameless guards who stand there and look menacing. Let them express themselves, in whatever small way they can. These people aren’t toy soldiers, they’re human too.

The way all the movie’s sound is crushed into a cold, dead silence once Chris is in the elevator.

Walker’s hilariously helpful hostages.

 “Are these alright?” - “Yeah that’ll do fine, now tie yourselves up.”

Seriously, these two guys are barely in the movie and both their scenes are gold.

Walker playing on the guards’ boredom to get into the hotel. I’m sure we’ve all worked jobs like this where we’re standing around begging for something interesting to brighten up our shift, naturally these guards all rush to get a look at the police across the street- and he easily slips past them.

The multiple light sources splitting Walker’s shadows up as he passes this pillar- a blink and you’ll miss it flash of his fractured interior. This is actually a technical no-no but who gives a shit when it suits the character?

Love this movie’s deliciously dry sense of humour. Walker almost gets caught but the guards are too busy chatting to turn around and see him. Brilliant.

How casually Walker just steps back behind a pillar after a guard shoots at him- and Boorman patiently watching him wait while the cops take the gunman away.

This extra looking right into the lens. Is it an accident, or intentional? If it’s on purpose, is this guy with the organisation- and Boorman gave him the green light to show the audience they have eyes everywhere? I love it either way. Movies should not be afraid to confront the simple fact that people are watching them through a camera- and use it to the advantage of their atmosphere.

Boorman dollying in from a wide to a pseudo-POV through the slats, positioning us like Walker’s direct partners in crime. We have to be with him every step of the way.

The flock of birds rushing out from under the bridge when the sniper shot rips through the air. Was this just a serendipitous accident? Or, if not, how much birdseed did they have to go through to get this shot?

Lee Marvin’s sarcastic glance when the sniper gives away his position always absolutely fucking slays me. There’s so many deadpan gems in this movie.

The sniper picking a parking ticket off his antenna once he’s done his job, as well as whipping out a pipe to smoke, as well as having his hood up like he’s broken down- all such brilliant, ‘unnecessary’ details. Give this much of a shit about your scenes, no matter who’s in them.

Beautiful way to play this scene. In one shot we get a fresh way to watch a conversation, establish that Chris is no longer safe and visualise their shattered relationship, as well as the missing pieces around Walker. Chris even throws something down that tracks across the shattered glass and gives dimension to the space between them. Simple and brilliant.

The extra in the distance during their date, right between where their eyes would meet. Just that perfect hint of unspoken paranoia to cripple their connection.

Walker letting Chris smack the shit out of him, then casually sitting down to watch TV and wait for his prey. Marvin’s character might be a blank slate but he sure as shit finds a lot of ways to show us there's a lot going on behind the eyes, he just doesn't feel the need to share it with anyone.

The jump cuts from Walker and Chris on the floor, to them in bed, to his dead wife with Reece, to Chris with Reece- all dovetailing into eachother beautifully. Under the surface, this man’s mind is irreparably warped.

This tragic moment where they quiz eachother on their names. After everything they’ve been through, they still barely know eachother at all.

Boorman flashing back through the film’s moments of violence in this scene as Walker’s sense of reality begins to crumble.

Marvin playing this scene with hilarious confusion. After getting his way the whole time, his new target won’t talk anymore and hilariously refuses to co-operate. Instead of strong-arming him, Walker just stands there baffled like a kid whose game’s just been ruined by reality. Hysterical.

The blood-red hue on Walker, a faraway figure in the inky darkness.

And that’s Point Blank, one of cinema’s most devilish thrillers. It’s worth noting that Lee Marvin’s star power got the project running and secured the actor complete creative control over the project. Marvin picked out John Boorman to direct- then called a meeting with the Producers and deferred all of his control over to John. The result of this creative star’s trust in a young visionary was arguably as revolutionary a crime film as has ever been made in America- a pulpy caper shot through with inspiration from the still-raging Nouvelle Vague that rips its genre framework to pieces with an electric experimentalism that remains as kinetic and vital today as it was way back in 1967. This might be a straight-forward crime story, or a mental odyssey through the last thoughts of a dying man fighting to tie up all the loose ends in his inner fantasies as life creeps out of the holes in his chest. It manages the mean feat of being a meta-commentary on the pointless cycle of violent crime stories AND an absolute blast to watch at the same time. See this film, as many times as you can. It’s a stone-cold classic.