Crikey.
First of all, I should have gone to see this in a theater. No excuse. I’ve made a decision not to spend $11 on whatever Nicolas Cage craps out anymore, but I should go see and support independent films and documentaries in theaters when I can, and I’m sorry I missed this one.
I am not even a fan of surfing; it’s not a great spectator sport to be honest, and I don’t do it myself, so this should have been just marginally interesting. But this film is SO GOOD. The history, the interviews, the fantastic old home movies that Stacy Peralta tracked down are wonderful.
His story arc tracing this bohemian post-war lifestyle to the jet-ski aided extreme sport it is today seems to happen gradually, and Peralta doesn’t dwell on whether this is a good or bad thing – it just is.
It’s not deep. It’s just very sweet. Peralta’s respect for the sport and its pioneers comes through all the time. And it is completely captivating. We started watching this movie late at night, and I didn’t glance at a clock once, or even get up.
I can’t say enough for the quality of this film. I honestly can’t think of another film I’ve seen in the past year or two that was as enjoyable and transporting as this one.