Weekend Read: The Little Surfer Boy at Number Ten

Derek Rielly

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Rejection ain't easy! It's especially hard when it spikes the heart of a little boy… 

The married couple liked to “jog.” The husband had been to America and had brought back an enthusiasm for the new fad years before it was to reach the isolated suburbs of Western Australia. (He imported a thirst for “swinging” too, although his wife was uncooperative.)

Just before the sun rose every morning, the couple would circle the 500- metre crescent where they lived six times.

Every Saturday, as they passed number 10, they would wave at a boy whom they estimated to be seven years old, but who was actually 10, squatting on top of the cream brick letterbox, as if ready to spring an attack on an unknown enemy.

Sometimes, the boy’s shivering was visible and this wasn’t surprising with his uniform of boardshorts, singlet, visor and thongs, even in winter. On the coldest mornings, he would be wrapped in a towel that had the words Ocean and Earth written across it in large block letters. Other days, the towel would be folded on top of the surfboard that leaned against the letterbox. If you were to stop and watch the boy you would see that he checked the large yellow plastic watch on his wrist every few seconds.

Most Saturdays, they would see the boy still sitting there even after they’d jogged their six laps, had gone home for breakfast, and were now taking their Afghan – another American influence – for a walk.

By then, the sun was well above the horizon now and the boy’s shivering had stopped. His freckled face would be cut into a grimace as the sun hit his eyes. If the couple had ever stopped to see what happened next, they would’ve seen the boy’s mother hurry up the driveway in a dressing gown that ballooned in the morning offshore, whisper in the boy’s ear, help him down from the letterbox, and hold his hand as she led him inside, the boy’s surfboard hanging from a strap on his shoulder.

The boy would walk back into his room, prop his surfboard against the wall in the corner, nose down, just as he’d seen it done in the surf shop, and lay down on his bed, looking at the trees outside his window and waiting for the onshore change that always came by nine am.

He would have liked to call his friend, but he was afraid, so afraid, of a definitive rejection. Because, even now, even two hours after the appointed pick-up time, his ears were attuned to any sort of crackle that might signal the arrival of a VW.

Rarely, perhaps once ever six Saturdays, the couple would see the boy climbing into a bright orange Volkswagen station wagon, an older boy smiling at him as he shifted into the back seat. A bearded man would tie his surfboard onto the roof with short lengths of rope.

The boy’s failed vigils disturbed the husband and he often spoke about it with his wife.

Why does the Rielly boy wait for a lift that hardly ever comes?

His wife would shrug and liken it to their passion for “jogging.”

But, it upset her, too.

He was too young to be rejected so blithely.

For the boy’s part, he never felt rejected or ignored.

Of course, he felt sad. And sometimes the sadness was so overwhelming he pushed his face into his pillow until it was damp with tears.

But, only because when you live in Perth and your surfing is limited to weekends and you miss that early offshore window, fuck, wouldn’t you cry too?

Mambo Jesus
What happened when Mambo waded into Jesus?  “There were letters to the newspapers, a half-hearted boycott of a country surf shop and a couple guys threatened to fire bomb a Mambo outlet but it all blew over pretty quickly,’’ says Reg Mombassa, the great Australian artist. “I do occasionally get nervous about some of my work and to some extent it wouldn’t be allowed in some countries, but overall it always only a pretty mild objection… though it is hard to predict what is going to happen.”

When Mambo Spoofed the (Other) Prophet

Anthony Pancia

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"You should be able to mock people without being slaughtered," says the artist Reg Mombassa.

And here we find the great Australian artist Reg Mombassa pondering the question suddenly screamed from the bloody streets of Paris.

Je suis Charlie Hebdo? 

Reg made his name as an artist when he drew for the clothing label Mambo, once a hot-bed of satire and bitting commentary.  Religion, sport and, in particular, Australia and its inhabitants itself were all openly skewered by the label, occasionally to the ire of religious and political figures.

“Satire is incredibly important and it has been throughout history,” says Reg.  “It’s a very vital way for humans letting off steam and expressing their objection to a range of things from religion to systems of government.”

Mambo was taken to task for a depiction of Jesus Christ as a mouse nailed to a cross and one of Reg’s works again of JC, this time as an overweight caricature. “There were letters to the newspapers, a half-hearted boycott of a country surf shop and a couple guys threatened to fire bomb a Mambo outlet but it all blew over pretty quickly,’’ says Reg. “I do occasionally get nervous about some of my work and to some extent it wouldn’t be allowed in some countries, but overall it always only a pretty mild objection… though it is hard to predict what is going to happen.”

What might provoke, apart from the obvious?

“There are some topics and mythical figures where you are just asking for trouble. In Australia for example we have Anzacs (returned service men and women) and it would be foolish to mock that legend,” he says. “But the artists in Paris would have known that the people they were goading were capable of doing what they did, but they believed in what they were doing and the outcome was shocking and horrible.”

Reg believes the implications of the tragedy in Paris are far more wide-reaching than a body count. “I feel sorry for those who were slaughtered and I feel sorry for Jewish and Muslim people, who will continue to be vilified because of the attack,” he says. “Tragedies like these also gee up the far right factions and stir up anti-Islamic and anti-Jewish sentiment and a whole host of other unpleasant stuff that isn’t going to go away in a hurry.”

Should freedom of speech be pursued and defended at all costs? “Freedom of speech is incredibly important but we obviously don’t have that and it’s just not true to say we do. Having said that we are still incredibly fortunate to live in a country like Australia that is generally very tolerant,’’ says Reg. “That said, nothing should be excluded from comment or observation… you should be able to mock people without being slaughtered, violence against people in any form is just not acceptable.”

Dusty Payne

Candid: The dumb things that drive Dusty Payne insane

Derek Rielly

By

Kelly Slater for one, fashion, mushrooms ('cause they look like wieners), booze, tatts, the complexity of sex…

Let’s get oiled in the grooviness of Maui’s Dusty Payne. Generous of spirit, tight of spin and with a beard that makes gals of a certain ilk (New York) melt like popsicles. But, still, he’s human. He loves, he hates.

And he really hates… 
 
Australia: There are not that many reefs around here. I miss the reefs at home: how it breaks in the same spot and you get the same section over and over.

My best friend: Granger Larsen is always pissed at something. Like we’d be sitting here cruising and he’d be like, “Brah, I am so pissed right now.”

My family: My mum’s cooking. She can only do simple things like fish. She probably couldn’t make lasagna.

Today: There’s four hundred feet of swell and we can’t surf anywhere. I’m just sitting in a room looking out at windblown scuzz. It fucking sucks.

Politics: That I don’t know much about them. I haven’t found a need to study up on them.

Travel: You always miss home no matter what. It’s hard leaving warm water, good waves and the freedom of being able to do anything you want whenever you want. When you’re on the road you can’t just go and golf when you want to.

Exercise: I dread the moment you wake up and realise you gotta go to the gym. It’s so much pain. Kahea Hart is coming through Europe with me to train me.

Food: Mushrooms. I hate the texture, I hate the taste, and I hate how they look like a little wiener.

Alcohol: Waking up the morning after and having that feeling of regret. I hate what I do when I’m drunk.

Fashion: Unless I’m Luke Stedman, it doesn’t really matter to me. I just wear what is given to me. The whole image thing in surfing is funny but you can’t judge someone for what they wear unless they look like a complete fag.

Music: Death metal. It’s too loud and in your face. Reggae is where it’s at. It suits the vibe in Hawaii.

Kelly Slater: Where to start? That he poled Pamela, Giselle and then Bar Rafaeli.

Tattoos: That you can’t take them off the next day. (He shows me a shaka tattoo on his toe) I would never take that off.

Sex: Why can’t women just think like men? Why can’t they rifle us and just be like, “Peace! I’m out.”

The media: You need the media but all the stuff – the interviews and the commitments, tires me out.

Noa Deane
Noa Deane, number three in my list of favourite surfers to interview after Andy Irons and Mason Ho. If y'don't dig what he's got to say, "That's your problem, baby!" says Noa.

Revealed: The Five Best Interviews in Surfing

Derek Rielly

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Meet the pro surfers who deliver such esoteric verbal husks!

Long ago, I lusted to talk to the pro surfers. What a thrill it would be to penetrate their secretive little world and liberate those solid kernels of truths. What secrets would unfurl before me?

The truth, as I would later discover, is that interviewing professional surfers is a frustrating exercise. I still dine on the story of interviewing one of the best in the game and after a handful of futile questions, I retreated to a standard to at least get some keystrokes happening.

I asked, “What boards are you riding?”

He replied, “Whoa, these questions are heavy.”

I vowed never to interview the surfer again and never have. Finding truth and insight while interviewing what we call “athletes” is a rare and infrequent experience.

But, sometimes, a surfer will come along and reveal the most volatile elements of his soul. Below I list my five favourite surfers to interview.

1. Andy Irons

Oh, he was the most dynamic of motherfuckers. The expression “wear your heart on your sleeve” was constructed to explain the glory of Andy Irons. If he was bummed, he’d tell you; maybe he’d wanna fight you. But, mostly, if you called, if you shoved a recorder near his mouth, he lit up. No one was more accessible or more honest. Paradoxically, Andy’s insecurity about his surfing and an obsession with money, fuelled his interview energy. I interviewed Andy from age 17, when we both went on our first big magazine trip together, until a couple of weeks before he died in 2010. The tension between love and hate, between success and failure, between life and death was forever apparent.

Notable quote:

What childhood dreams have stuck with you? 

“It’s usually, I’m on top of a mountain and I’m trying to stand on the pinnacle without falling off. The wind gets really strong and it turns into this radical Wizard of Oz trip with the wind coming up and with lightning bolts appearing around. It starts to rain and the mountain starts getting real slippery. What does it mean? Probably, that I’m trying to hold on.”

Read Andy’s interview here. 

2. Mason Ho

Where did this kid come from? Sunset Beach, North Shore? Son of Michael Ho? Bro of Coco? Nephew of the world champ Dez Ho? I always clear the decks for a least an hour when I get Mason on the line. Everything from his accent to his vision on surfing, life, girls, sex, is an audacious madness that leaves me spellbound. Mason was never shackled with a serious sponsor that’d  ever demand he retract his more startling comments. Mason is alive, he’s with us and, right now, he reigns supreme.

Notable quote:

“I’ve had a few good fights. I’ve never really gotten too beaten up, though. I like to talk it out and do it nicely, like what just happened recently at Deserts (Desert Point, Lombok, Indonesia). I don’t want no problems after. I like to be respectful. I’ll say, “I’m sorry you’re pissed, and I respect you big time, but you look down to fight and I’m down to fight, so let’s go in, fight, then shake hands and have a beer afterwards.” That’s my theory. If you’re going to fight, respect ’em and they’ll respect you back and maybe not tag you so bad if they catch you good. If they call me a bitch, at least I tried. I’ll come in and… bang… dynamite! When I was a kid, an Aussie guy cracked me really good. We made friends ’cause I elbowed him in the face and he was all stoked. That was on the Gold Coast.” 

Read Mason’s interview here. 

3. Noa Deane

Another surfer with a superb touch when it comes to interviews. The almost-20-year-old from Coolangatta on the Gold Coast might’ve floundered on stage at the Surfer Poll but, for Noa, surfing is not just a dumb jock sport but the sacred vehicle of life. He takes it more seriously than you’d think. Dane Reynolds recognises his uniqueness, as he does Craig Anderson’s. And talk? Noa embraces interviews and he hits the spot.

Notable quote:

“Hey, I’ve got a good story for ya! We went to this place called Ifrane, an alpine snow town in the Atlas mountains. The day before we were online picking a house to stay out. There was this one that was real sweet but it was 200 euros and I was, like, fuck that, that sounds too expensive for one night. It would’ve been sweet once we’d split it up but, then, fuck, we went to this other joint. It looked sick. Old school. It fucking had a garden. Snow out the front. We turned the fireplace on and everything started going downhill from there. Why are the window’s boarded up? Jay goes to the toilet downstairs and sees all these lipstick kisses on the back of the door. On the terrace there was graffiti that said, you died tonight! And in the backyard there was this creepy dude cutting up wood. All the mirrors were smashed. One bed had all these weird stains. It was so sketchy. The lady who rented us the house kept asking us if we wanted hookers. Are you sure you don’t want hookers? And the lady pointed at one door and said, don’t go in this door. It was wigging me out that we were obviously staying at a haunted hookers house. I slept with my fucking shoes on and shit and tried to green out but I totally kooked it. But I got to sleep for one second and felt this thing poke me in the back. Are you fucking kidding me? I started stressing out for hours, trying to put alarm clocks on to wake everybody up. By the time we got out, it was, fuck yeah, we survived that. Fucking hell, that was the heaviest thing that’s ever happened to me. I was so tripped out the next day but psyched that it happened, just cause you got that story to tell.”

Read Noa’s interview here. 

4. Mitch Crews 

I had no idea that the recently de-boned rookie could string a sharp sentence together. And, then, on a winter’s night on a rooftop at a mutual pal I found myself enthralled by how well he harnessed his meagre education into a whirlwind sweep of life. “I have to interview you!” I winked. And I haven’t stopped!

Notable quote:

“I felt very awkward in the competition area because I’m really social and felt like I had to go through the charade of putting my headphones on and then staring at the camera all strong. I lost interest during the year because, straight up, I’m not ready to sacrifice all the cool things in life to go for those big competitive goals. I’ve gotta wait until that kicks in. I’m only 24. I like being 24 and a normal dude and getting to have fun and meet people and drink coffees and go out in clubs and do that sorta shit. And, truthfully, I’m not good enough at surfing yet. I need to put in a hard year of getting better.”

Read Mitch’s interview here. 

5. Jeremy Flores 

Very much like Andy. Sometimes eggy, often ready to blow his chains. The time of the sham is over for Jeremy and, although he risks turning into a serial complainer, when he’s on, he’s on.

Notable quote:

“I’ve always been honest, always said it like it is. A lot of people respect that. A lot of people don’t. So there’s always going to be people talking shit. I’ve always been true to myself and the people in my entourage and the people that believe in me. The rest, to tell you the truth, I don’t give a… I don’t really care. As long as I’m not fake. In surfing, nowadays, there’s a lot of fake-ness. So much fake. People are so fake. Most of the guys are so fake. I know it because I know all of ‘em and they’re all such legends and such cool guys but then through the media you see a different person. That’s something that scares me and something I never want to do. I want to stay true. People like me and people don’t. But people see the real me.”

Read Jeremy’s interview here. 

There's a seriousness about Dear Suburbia. Lost is upbeat; Mod's electro. The opening desert chapter, with Nick Cave, is particularly eerie and suburbs, and suburban life, are the eeriest things ever. And cute gal without brassiere mowing doughnut from sword? The symbolism will drive you to drink!

Kai Neville’s Second Best Film: Dear Suburbia

Derek Rielly

By

On the eve of his new release, Cluster, let's examine Mr Neville's second-greatest film after Lost Atlas… 

Oh, to be young and in America and in your suitcase is a master copy of your new film, a film that has the sweetest and most golden of glows (even if it’s kinda eerie!), and at open-air premieres all over the continent, strangers are hollering and punching the sky, at your film! Young men in sleeveless shirts, sweaters shucked on these warm summer nights, moving together as a whole, swaying, stiffening, hypnotised.

For one month in 2012, the Dear Suburbia entourage hit the west coast of America from San Francisco to Encinitas and, then, the east, from Jacksonville to New York City. But, to get from west to east, requires a two-day non-stop run through the dark heart of North America. It’s all electro-cute when you’re in the theme parks of Austin or Marfa in Texas or when you hit the Franco-influenced Louisiana, but to get that far, you have to cross New Mexico.

And, if you’ve ever watched a classic road film, you’ll know about New Mex. The high plains. The mountains. The desert. The overwhelming claustrophobia of emptiness. The overwhelming… strangeness. Well, hello Quentin Tarantino!

“It is like an American horror movie,” says Kai. “Literally, you swing into a truck stop and it’s like a scene in The Hills Have Eyes (2006). The creepiest, most desolate towns you’ve ever seen… We went into one truck stop and they had the shittiest breakfast you could ever have and, seriously, it was like everyone there was plotting against us, to murder us. This almost good-looking guy served us coffee and then he smiled and he had no teeth. It was… so… creepy.”

The question you ask a filmmaker like Kai Neville when he tells you something like this is, how many rolls did you shoot?

“Eight. It’s the sickest stuff.”

I recorded this interview with Mr Neville two years ago in the city of Angels where Mr Neville was tying the final bows on his Jordy Smith profile movie, made under the command of Red Bull, the Thai-Austrian energy drink.

BeachGrit: What were you trying to do with Dear Suburbia? Can you describe your journey from Modern Collective to Lost Atlas to this?  

Kai: Well, I was chasing a vibe, a certain vibe, this ambience of time on the road. After working with this core group of guys that I started shooting with Modern Collective and Lost Atlas, I wanted to showcase how rad what we get to do is. I wanted to portray spontaneous jaunts around the world, compared to the usual suburban life. I want to inspire people to get on the road and to try something different.

There’s a seriousness about Dear Suburbia. Lost is upbeat; Mod’s electro. The opening desert chapter, with Nick Cave, is particularly eerie and suburbs, and suburban life as we both, are the eeriest things ever… 

I think it’s cool that you can see that. I definitely wanted to try and have a cinematic feel about the movie. That’s why I shot on Red (ultra-high def digital camera) and had a lot of water angles and it’s why I slowed it down. I really wanted to stay away from all the shit that’s online. There’s so many web clips and so much bullshit. All that candid raw stuff worked for Lost Atlas but as soon as I started editing Dear Suburbia it felt like a web clip. Like, fuck, I’m just editing another web clip here. Why would people even pay for this or watch this again? I wanted something that was purely visuals and music-based and had cinematic undertones.

What parts of the film do you think were particularly successful? 

The desert trip was the most successful trip I’ve been on: the quality of waves, the vibe of the guys and the shots that I got. that was the first trip I’ve ever shot on Red and it brought a whole new look and feel. We went in blind on that trip. I was expecting ramp-y kind of waves and we had these real beautiful waves with the best backdrops you’ve ever seen. Straight off the bat, working on the film, it had a new feel to it. A really good way of setting the scene for the movie and segueing into the other trips. It really changed our direction.

After the upbeat web clips, y’think people were a little confused when the movie starts and it’s a little ominous, a little scary? 

It had a lot of people confused. The first few prequels, people thought they were the actual film, and that it was just going to be released online. It’s a good departure from the early teasers.

Anything you’re not so happy with? 

I’d love to shoot Japan again. That was before I was into the theme of the movie and we followed a typhoon to Japan and I shot it on 7D (Canon digital SLR). But, at the same time, it kinda works cause that section’s really raw and fast and it’s  a good shift away from all of the slower stuff. If I shot it again, I’d have so much slow stuff I wouldn’t know where to cut it or what to do with it. It’d probably be a little film in itself. If you shot that stuff slow-frame, like John John in the barrel, it would’ve looked… fucked up…

How do you get through the hours in the editing studio, mowing through all the slow-mo?  

You get on the rouge, slap on some good tunes late at night and get into it.

Is there anything the casual viewer might miss upon a first viewing? 

I’m actually really psyched on the intro. I don’t know if it really comes across, but the intro, itself, with the Brian Eno track, is one of the best parts of the film. It sets the vibe.

Where did you find the Brian Eno track? Ain’t that the most obscure thing ever!

I don’t even know! I’ve been buying a lot of my shit through iTunes, like I used to download all the music, but now, fuck it, I’m going to by it, and it’s way easier than spending half the day trying to find some weird torrent. I’d rather spend the money and get some proper albums. When you buy albums they recommend other artists and iTunes is soooo spot on. Like, you buy a Joy Division track and they’re going to recommend more eighties post-punk bands and that’s how I found a lot of tracks, from recommendations on iTunes.

More than anything, I believe your films succeed, because of your ruthless editing. Even the highest level of surfer can watch and not grouse about dud turns, which is something that used to find its way into Taylor Steele’s films who, before you, knew good surfing more than anyone. And, in your lifestyle shots, there’s rare candidness. Therefore, adornments of motifs and whatever aside, the reason your films are so good is because surfers are trying to impress Kai Neville. 

Yeah! I think the boys, they want to step it up. I’ve worked on those relationships over time so those guys feel comfortable with me. And, the other thing I’ve noticed, is, lifestyle-wise, I’ve been shooting a lot of handheld, a lot of 16mm, and the camera’s not so confronting like a big digital RED camera. You stick that in your face and it’s intrusive. The guys are generally interested in 16mm and film cause they shoot photos themselves, so when they see that old Russian thing come out they can be themselves. And, I only noticed that lately cause I went to the Guggenheim and checked out Rineke Dijkstra, the Dutch photographer. She’s got the craziest portraits. She shoots random people in the street and the way she got away with it was she had a big, large-format camera, this 1800’s-looking thing, and people are so interested in the camera, they come over, have a little talk, and then she’s, like, “Can I shoot your portrait?” So, part of it, is as simple as shooting with an interesting device.

Lost Atlas introduced us to John John, which was kinda weird since he’d been around for a zillion years, and what impression does Dear Subs leave us with? Perhaps that Reynolds, even now, is still the best surfer in the world? 

Fuck. I totally agree. I’m just stoked that he contributed heavily to the film. It’s cool to see him in a headspace now where he wants to surf with the boys and do trips. I’m lucky I get to document that stuff and people get to check it out ’cause, fuck, he’s the best surfer in the world. Once you see him put a board on rail you’re like, oh my god, the boys can do some pretty wild airs and stuff but that’s real surfing.

Reynolds alternately loathes and loves the camera. How do you work around that? The shots where he’s wrapped in the flag and reflected in the tiny love heart mirror aren’t what you’d expect… 

You can gauge if someone’s going to let you in, if they’re going to understand what you’re trying to get, what you’re trying to achieve with the shot. Dane, he shoots so much film, so many photos, that he’s got a good eye and he’ll know if you’re getting a pretty cool shot. If you’re doing something that’s gay he’ll be the first to tell you, as well.

Has he ever shut you down? 

Not really. I don’t try to do too many setup shots, like, “Dane! Run over there!” I haven’t been totally shut down but… yeah… but if he told me, I’d be like (submissive voice)… okay… cool…

Did he suggest any of the shots? The mirror? 

The idea was, I wanted to get some interesting shots to open the film, to show where they lived and then contrast that with shots of them on the road. Dane actually got his chick to shoot the shots. It turned out way better because he was more comfortable. He sent me the reel and I was, like, this is gold! This is natural, candid home footage.

Dane is to Kai Neville what Kelly Slater was to Taylor Steele. Correct or no? Discuss. 

That’s a completely different dynamic. Kelly’s the ultra-competitor and Taylor was the same way. Taylor was producing the best films for a decade and Kelly wanted to be top guy in the best films. Where I’m at, I’m passionate about making good films but, at the same time, I want to have a good time and travel with the right guys. Dane, I think, is in a similar mind space.

Did you have to think a few times before you used (Just Like Honey) and Atmosphere as the closing two songs? They work, of course, the emotional reaction!, but y’aint the first… From Lost Translation to various other films, they are very popular. 

I had the exact same question that you just asked. I used so many different songs for that Just Like Honey desert section and I was, like, fuck, this has been used in Lost in Translation, people are going to think I’m trying to bite that steeze. But, at the same time, like, fuck it, this song works so good, I’m so psyched on it, anything else I use, I’m going to be bummed. It fit the vibe perfectly. I’d be the first to say that closing section in Lost in Translation is fucking awesome so I like appropriating and doing something with the same sorta vibe. I literally tried a bunch of stuff and went, this is not working, that’s it, that’s the song.

Now, who in heavens is Kai Neville? How did you, this little ball of fun from the Gold Coast, become Reynolds’, JJs’, Chips’ etc, master? 

I would not have a clue. Fuck. The lifestyle we lead is so crazy and so fast I haven’t had time to breathe and think about what’s happening. I still don’t. I’m so busy right now that I keep telling myself, fuck, keep rolling with it, keep rolling with it, I’m roling with it! I’ll find myself in meetings with big industry people one day then on the road with the world’s best surfers the next. I like to think I’m pretty addicted to my job, that I put in the hours, so I hope it’s a combo of hard work laced with occasional inspiration.

If you were to die tomoz, perhaps swallowed alive by the pomade with which you shape your unrelenting grand couronne of hair, what would your epitaph read? And, how would you be remembered? 

My epitaph? I’ve been on planes before where you get wild turbulence and you have that feeling in your stomach where you think, shit, the plane’s going to go down, and the first thing that comes into my head is that I haven’t come close to doing all the things I want to do in the world yet. There’s a lot of shit I want to be remembered by. But, Dear Suburbia is close to the surf movie I wanted to make so, fuck, if I died tomorrow, hopefully, people watch the film in a few years and still get a few strands of thrill.

Surfing operates on a very superficial moral plane. The films rarely reflect what goes on. Discuss. 

Obviously, there are a few films our there that are fucking awesome, like Busting Down the Door. That is such a cool insight into surfing.  But, it all happens 30 or so years after the shit actually went down. It’d be cool to tell the real story now. Whether it’s about the tour or shit that happens in surfing. Skaters, in their films and documentaries, talk about real shit from having benders on ecstasy to hitting a mega ramp. Everything you see about surfing is the same.

Now, let me ask you something. No one has made a great pro tour movie, a graphic, honest film about the tour. Derek Hynd came close with Pro Land but, technically, it was very weak. And, you’d be one of the few people who could do it, a filmmaker who has proved to be a cultural shifter…

The sorta shit that goes on on tour, you discover that surfing is actually really cool. I don’t know why people don’t want to showcase it for what it is. I don’t understand why brands don’t let em be themselves and portray ’em as they are.

You can do it! You have the ability!

I’d hope so, but even I, it’s so scary. There’s so many things you don’t want to do because you don’t want to piss people off. You want to make sure you can pay the mortgage, you don’t want to piss the brands off. If you really went all out and you wanted to show something and truly be yourself, even I’d find it so daunting. I can see where surfers come from.

It’s true. Pure  genius leaves that person penniless, friendless and usually suicidal. You have to sacrifice so much! 

So much! And, is it really worth it? Because, even me, all I want to do is surf. As long as I can work in a fun job and I get to go surfing, I’m stoked. I don’t want to jeopardise a lot for a little. I don’t know how far it gets ya.

Photo: Jack English
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