Stranger than Fiction
Went and saw Taylor Steele's new flick on Thursday night at La Paloma Theater in Encinitas. It was packed. It features a lot of young guys and is the closest thing to a quantum leap in performance in a whole group of guys since Momementum. That's probably because Steele finally stopped focusing on the exact same crew. Jordy Smith, Dane Reynolds, Dion Agus, Clay Marzo, and Ian Walsh make the Momentum crew look about as dated as they made Damian Hardman look in 1991. Slater is not featured in this one (though Benji Weatherly, Shane Dorian, Rob Machado and a few other "old timers" still get at least partial segments).
That said, the theme of the movie is that it is exposing a massive fraud that the surfing in Steele's movies has been faked with digital editing. It's kind of a lame premise to begin with, but after he flogs the dead horse, Steele proceeds to shoot it with a howitzer, run over it with a bulldozer, douse it in diesel fuel and scortch it with an acetelene torch. The thing must have been longer than an hour. I have what was previously thought to be an unlimited capacity to watch good surfing, but two-thirds of the way through I was checking my watch.
I was also disappointed by the lack of audience stoke. The first surf movie I ever saw in the theater was "Surfers: The Movie." It came out in about 1988 or 1989. At the time, the selection of surf flicks for home view was pretty scant and not available at the local video vault; my Dad was not about to shell out for something as stupid as a surf movie. So, going to see the movie was an event. The opening sequence was of Martin Potter, I think, getting barreled on a sick right, shooting out and ripping the top off. The place went nuts and stayed that way. The theater pulsated with energy as the screen alternated between state of the art surfing and interviews with the top guys. It all blew my little fucking mind.
The crowd at La Paloma was dead. Taylor Steele and Mike Losness threw out some stickers and other low-grade schwag. Even though the place was packed, it just wasn't an event. No doubt, every zit-faced grom in the room had seen both Campaign 2 and Freakside in the previous 24 hours and were numb to what was happening on the screen.
So, to sum up: in runs long but is high-high quality. The skits reach new levels of boring gayness. Youth in America is spoiled, apathetic and fucked up. I have become a crotchety old man.
Last edited by Brocktoon; 07-12-2008 at 08:14 PM.
I should want to cook him a simple meal, but I shouldn't want to cut into him, to tear the flesh, to wear the flesh, to be born unto new worlds where his flesh becomes my key.
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