The Surfer
by George Wolf
Have you seen Wake in Fright, the 1971 Australian nightmare with Donald Pleasence? How about The Swimmer from ’68, where Burt Lancaster’s delusions of greatness are slowly punctured by the reality of his past?
The Surfer will hit harder if you can appreciate how it blends the two for its own deranged tale, as Nicolas Cage takes full advantage of another chance to come unglued before our eyes.
Cage stars as the titular surfer, who has come back to Australia’s Luna Bay in hopes of buying his childhood home. He brings his son along to surprise him with the news, but quickly finds the locals most unwelcoming.
“Don’t live here, don’t surf here!”
The “Bay Boys” rule the beach, and their guru Scally (Julian McMahon) takes the surfer and son aside to give them one polite warning: best move along.
They oblige, but the surfer won’t give up his dream so easily. He returns solo and things quickly escalate with the Bay Boys until the surfer is bloody and barefoot, without money, phone, car, or friends.
The font of the opening credits sets the perfect retro vibe, and director Lorcan Finnegan (Vivarium) leans into it from there. The minimalistic score, wide frames and dramatic punch-ins cast a spell of 70s Ozploitation that makes a fine launching pad for Cage’s slide into lunacy.
Australian accent? You think Cage needs one to sell this quest for survival? He doesn’t, and writer Thomas Martin weaves his lack of dialect into the thread of wry humor that runs throughout the film. Like Wake in Fright, circumstances hold a stranger prisoner in a foreboding Australian town, where – like The Swimmer – the past comes calling.
The Surfer is often smart but can be less than subtle, with some “hey don’t miss this” camerawork – which, to be fair, aligns with the throwback feel – and a lesson about toxic masculinity that’s well-meaning but repetitive.
But there’s much to like here, starting with Cage. The surfer is the kind of role that’s in perfect sync with his legendary eccentricities. He’s a man on the verge for ninety minutes, and nearly all of those are too much fun to look away.
