Point Blank (1967)Revenge is something you come to, not something you come back from. Point Blank (1967) is the story of the singularly named Walker (Lee Marvin), who embarks on a mission of revenge following a betrayal by his ostensible friend, Mal Reese (John Vernon), and his own wife (who is Mal's secret lover), Lynne (Sharon Acker). Walker is propelled on his mission by a mysterious figure named "Yost" (Keenan Wynn), who presumably works for the government, and partners with Walker for mutual gain. Walker is aided by Lynne's sister, Chris (Angie Dickenson), as he stalks his prey across California.
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Point Blank is unquestionably a revenge story, and in the tradition of the genre, Walker moves up the underworld food chain picking off key members. His is both a quest for vengeance and to reclaim the money from the Alcatraz heist Mal put him up to over a year ago, during which Mal stole from Walker to finance his own return to the ephemeral "organization" of west coast crime. Most of these encounters follow familiar beats as Walker shakes down low-level grunts like the sleazy car salesman, Stegman (Michael Strong), or ambushes an upper echelon officer of the organization named Brewster (Carroll O'Connor) in a palatial Los Angeles home to get his money--ninety-three thousand dollars exactly. Many other scenes in Point Blank, however, are more introspective--meditative even--with flashbacks to earlier moments happening in Walker's head...and there are other instances where it seems that Walker's not "all there". Is he so consumed by his drive to see some kind of justice done that he loses focus of anything else? Possibly; there is another popular theory suggested by the opening of Point Blank, when Walker is shot by Mal while resting in a cell in the decommissioned "Rock" of Alcatraz: Walker is already dead.
The suggestion that virtually the entirety of Point Blank exists as a kind of dying fantasy of Walker's is certainly an audacious one, which even director John Boorman has refused to weigh in on. (One suspects that Martin Scorsese borrowed this conceit for the ending of his film, Taxi Driver.) Many people who Walker visits in his quest comment--in all seriousness--that they thought he was dead. The Alcatraz heist comes in rapid waves just after Walker is shot, like his life is flashing before his eyes, with a lightning quick introduction to the already aloof Walker, the desperate Mal, and Lynne, who essentially lets things get out of control. Walker emerges at some undisclosed time in San Francisco, dressed in a ghostly grey suit to match his hair, as a tour guide talks of the history of Alcatraz, citing that no one had escaped and survived. But only moments before, we see the miraculously unharmed (if haggard) Walker clumsily plunge into the bay, presumably in an attempt to swim to shore, a parallel designed to insinuate that Walker is not really alive anymore. Even after Walker is pointed to the residence of his estranged wife (and presumably Mal), it is preceded by a montage of him walking loudly down a corridor, his footsteps still reverberating like phantom echoes, stopping only as he bursts in on Lynne's plush but starkly gray new abode, while frantically seeking his betrayer. Even after Lynne departs, Walker seems to haunt the home, which is cleared out of possessions, like a phantom looming and waiting for his next link in the chain of revenge to be forged. Other subtle moments suggest an almost supernatural power in Walker; he has a capacity for not just sneaking by guards, but walking past them virtually undetected, like a ghost. In one scene where one of Mal's guards starts shooting at him, he gracefully steps behind a pillar in the parking garage, essentially dodging the bullets with eerie alacrity...or perhaps they went right through him. Point Blank is a film where scenes are often staged with a kind of monochromatic focus, giving these scenes a fantastic, unreal quality...something from a fantasy or an afterlife, heaven or hell. Even the last shot we see of Walker is one in which he seems to dissolve into the shadows, like a spirit excised from the world of the living once and for all.
Another interpretation of the metaphor-driven Point Blank is that Walker emerges back into the world of the "living", but it is no longer his world. Walker represents a kind of old-fashioned perception of a revenge story; what he does comes from a place where even though the characters in Point Blank are virtually all crooks, Walker seems to carry a "code of honor". It is thus understandable as to why Walker would seek out Mal to exact his retribution, but then describe the way it ends up being carried out as an "accident". It is after this that Walker continues in his efforts to reclaim the ninety-three thousand dollars, money which Chris rightly observes wasn't even his to begin with. As Walker harries the high-ranking members of the organization for his money, his pursuit is one of increasing weariness, as though it were a chore he had to do rather than something meant to offer him fulfillment. It's possible that Walker is being coerced by Yost to making this money his priority, but it's more likely that in Walker's "old school" perspective of justice, he must obtain it on principle. Walker's sense of duty feels somehow anachronistic--dated even--in this modern California, as though it has been far more than a year or two since the fateful betrayal. Walker is an old man, and he looks older surrounded by comparatively younger people. Even his wife is visibly younger than him, though in flashbacks they looked at least a little closer in age. The sense of time and the shifting of perceptions that come with it is no coincidence; Point Blank was made at the dying end of the Sixties, where the old methodology of gangsters and heists have been replaced by the corporate ethos of the organization, where hoodlums dress in fine suits and there is a clear hierarchy of management, with offices and delegation. Even the club owned by Chris which Walker visits has a groovy vibe--it is a place where the older Walker doesn't look like he belongs. If this is all still just a fantasy in Walker's head, these moments might suggest a deeper, psychological suggestion to himself that his quest is one which is taking him down a road with no real destination, no real exit. And yet, were Walker but a phantom of himself, perhaps all that truly drives him is this singular motivation, the last unresolved task for an unquiet soul.
Recommended for: Fans of a thought-provoking revenge film, one which is driven by metaphor and suggests many possibilities about Walker throughout them. By embracing a kind of ambiguity, filled with evocative imagery, Point Blank has become a rare bird for the genre and something of a cult classic as well.
The suggestion that virtually the entirety of Point Blank exists as a kind of dying fantasy of Walker's is certainly an audacious one, which even director John Boorman has refused to weigh in on. (One suspects that Martin Scorsese borrowed this conceit for the ending of his film, Taxi Driver.) Many people who Walker visits in his quest comment--in all seriousness--that they thought he was dead. The Alcatraz heist comes in rapid waves just after Walker is shot, like his life is flashing before his eyes, with a lightning quick introduction to the already aloof Walker, the desperate Mal, and Lynne, who essentially lets things get out of control. Walker emerges at some undisclosed time in San Francisco, dressed in a ghostly grey suit to match his hair, as a tour guide talks of the history of Alcatraz, citing that no one had escaped and survived. But only moments before, we see the miraculously unharmed (if haggard) Walker clumsily plunge into the bay, presumably in an attempt to swim to shore, a parallel designed to insinuate that Walker is not really alive anymore. Even after Walker is pointed to the residence of his estranged wife (and presumably Mal), it is preceded by a montage of him walking loudly down a corridor, his footsteps still reverberating like phantom echoes, stopping only as he bursts in on Lynne's plush but starkly gray new abode, while frantically seeking his betrayer. Even after Lynne departs, Walker seems to haunt the home, which is cleared out of possessions, like a phantom looming and waiting for his next link in the chain of revenge to be forged. Other subtle moments suggest an almost supernatural power in Walker; he has a capacity for not just sneaking by guards, but walking past them virtually undetected, like a ghost. In one scene where one of Mal's guards starts shooting at him, he gracefully steps behind a pillar in the parking garage, essentially dodging the bullets with eerie alacrity...or perhaps they went right through him. Point Blank is a film where scenes are often staged with a kind of monochromatic focus, giving these scenes a fantastic, unreal quality...something from a fantasy or an afterlife, heaven or hell. Even the last shot we see of Walker is one in which he seems to dissolve into the shadows, like a spirit excised from the world of the living once and for all.
Another interpretation of the metaphor-driven Point Blank is that Walker emerges back into the world of the "living", but it is no longer his world. Walker represents a kind of old-fashioned perception of a revenge story; what he does comes from a place where even though the characters in Point Blank are virtually all crooks, Walker seems to carry a "code of honor". It is thus understandable as to why Walker would seek out Mal to exact his retribution, but then describe the way it ends up being carried out as an "accident". It is after this that Walker continues in his efforts to reclaim the ninety-three thousand dollars, money which Chris rightly observes wasn't even his to begin with. As Walker harries the high-ranking members of the organization for his money, his pursuit is one of increasing weariness, as though it were a chore he had to do rather than something meant to offer him fulfillment. It's possible that Walker is being coerced by Yost to making this money his priority, but it's more likely that in Walker's "old school" perspective of justice, he must obtain it on principle. Walker's sense of duty feels somehow anachronistic--dated even--in this modern California, as though it has been far more than a year or two since the fateful betrayal. Walker is an old man, and he looks older surrounded by comparatively younger people. Even his wife is visibly younger than him, though in flashbacks they looked at least a little closer in age. The sense of time and the shifting of perceptions that come with it is no coincidence; Point Blank was made at the dying end of the Sixties, where the old methodology of gangsters and heists have been replaced by the corporate ethos of the organization, where hoodlums dress in fine suits and there is a clear hierarchy of management, with offices and delegation. Even the club owned by Chris which Walker visits has a groovy vibe--it is a place where the older Walker doesn't look like he belongs. If this is all still just a fantasy in Walker's head, these moments might suggest a deeper, psychological suggestion to himself that his quest is one which is taking him down a road with no real destination, no real exit. And yet, were Walker but a phantom of himself, perhaps all that truly drives him is this singular motivation, the last unresolved task for an unquiet soul.
Recommended for: Fans of a thought-provoking revenge film, one which is driven by metaphor and suggests many possibilities about Walker throughout them. By embracing a kind of ambiguity, filled with evocative imagery, Point Blank has become a rare bird for the genre and something of a cult classic as well.