Ghost of dead surf icon Andy Irons haunts big-budget Billabong film Trilogy: Next Wave

"It’s set up to be a buddy film, but like an unconsummated marriage, it never gets there."

As you no doubt know, it is very flat in California. You are probably hoping that there will be waves in California soon, so that you no longer have to hear about how flat it is. But if there’s one thing we’re good at here, it’s complaining. There’s always something.

The flat spell has sent us all on desperate searches for diversion. Laundry, scraping wax, organizing our fins, learning how to wrap our leashes around our boards — there is just so many things to do, and none of them is as fun as surfing. Dammit.

So it was that yesterday, I sat in my comfiest chair and I watched, back to back, the original Trilogy and the newly released Trilogy: New Wave.

It got me thinking. If this flat spell continues long enough, could I watch the entire Taylor Steele oeuvre? Could I make it through all of Modern Collective era Kai Neville? Really, I hope I do not have to find out.

A Taylor Steele joint sponsored by Billabong, the original Trilogy released in 2007, when boardshorts were extremely long and Caity Simmers was two years old. I’m not sure what was going on with the boardshorts in that era, honestly. Apparently, men were very worried about their knees.

The Trilogy concept was pretty simple. Three surfers: Andy Irons, Joel Parkinson, and Taj Burrow. Good waves. Music that was… I guess good for the time? I’m not sure. A smattering of interview material. Some party people B-roll. The film clocks in at a snappy 35ish minutes, manageable even for my microscopic attention span.

(Watch it here.)

Watching an old surf film feels like stepping into a time machine. There they are, trying to show us what’s cool and what good surfing looks like. In the absence of social media, it must have felt intoxicating. So much authority! So much responsibility!

So much money. It’s wild to sit here in 2024 and see just how much money there was to make surf media in olden times. The credits list on Trilogy is lengthy. So very many people, getting paid for surfing. How quaint.

In pure surfing terms, Trilogy feels like one of the last of the turns and barrels films. It’s nearly the closing act for a cohort of surfers; Andy and Taj are close to 30 when it releases. Modern Collective’s air fest is just two years away.

Out of all of it, the Andy sections still bang. His surfing had that extra magic that gives it a timeless quality. There is so much style in every turn — and that inexpressible something the best surfers have and that I always feel awkward and stupid trying to put into words. You know what it looks like. We all do.

I’ve been hearing about Trilogy: New Wave for what feels like forever. I can almost picture the meeting around the conference table there at Billabong when they decided to do the remake. I’m sure there’s a whole Behind the Music-style podcast episode on the making of this film. Certainly, a big-budget surf film in the era of social media feels like a quixotic endeavor.

The premise is simple. Take three surfers from the present generation: Griff Colapinto, Ethan Ewing, and Seth Moniz. Send them on trips to good waves. Add music. Do some interviews. Use the latest whizbang digital camera technology. Presto! A fabulous blockbuster surf film.

When I sit down to watch it, I notice that Trilogy: New Wave runs over an hour. Well. This better be worth it.

There’s a slow motion, black and white credit sequence. Every crystalline water drop shines like a shard of glass. Viewed from above, Ethan twists and writhes in the chaos. It’s beautiful in that dizzying high-resolution that modern, digital video cameras create. I liked it. I liked it less when I realized it’s repeated throughout the film. Oops.

The surfing is good, of course. Ethan has that clean powerful style, that’s extremely watchable. He also does far more airs than I ever expected. Griff is dynamic, explosive, and unpredictable. His surfing matches his personality to an almost hilarious degree. Seth brings the Hawaiian-style barrel riding and some big ass airs of his own. I liked the surfing, is what I’m saying.

The filmers bring a massive, high-tech arsenal to the job. There’s drone views and water views and every kind of view you can imagine. There are some truly lovely visions here, if you enjoy surf imagery. It’s me. I enjoy that shit.

But at times, the technology overwhelms the subject. Yes, cameras can do ridiculous high-resolution, slow motion now. But I’m not sure I need to see every drop of water in its singularity. Colors saturate beyond anything found in nature. Drone shots transform surfing into twister. Dial it back a bit, my friends. The surfing doesn’t — or shouldn’t — need quite so much razzle dazzle.

The surfers travel, drive a lot, surf many hours. All of this is good. In between, there’s a lot of interview material, and there are back stories build around each surfer. This is… less good. Taylor rightly edited the interviews in the original film down to a few quick, snappy quotes and got on with the business end of the thing.

I’ll confess, I skipped through some of talking in New Wave. My dudes, this is a surf film. Show me the fucking surfing. I also skipped the contest footage. Sue me.

There’s a noticeable lack of chemistry among the three surfers. It’s set up to be a buddy film, but like an unconsummated marriage, it never quite gets there. There’s a shot of the three surfers sitting in a van on a long, dirt road. Seth drives, while Griff sits shotgun. In the backseat, Ethan stares out the window. He seems to be wishing he was just about anywhere else.

For all the effort, I’m not sure the film reveals all that much about these guys. Griff has ridiculous energy. Seth is just happy to be there. Ethan’s the most interesting character to me, mostly for what he doesn’t tell us. For all the miles he travels and all the good waves he surfs in this film, he looks happiest standing on the beach at home alone with his dog. There’s a story there, but not one he’s willing to tell us.

There’s just so much expectation weighing on Trilogy: New Wave, and it all but crushes the thing. It’s so obviously trying so very hard to be big and important in a way that the original didn’t — and maybe didn’t have to be. Before social media and in a time when surf industry money flowed like a high tide, surf films didn’t have to work quite this hard.

The whole idea of a remake sets up a comparison that hardly feels fair to the surfers. Surely, they are more than shrink-wrapped plastic dolls pulled off the shelf for a new generation. We should, I think, grant them more individuality than that.

All three of these guys surf their hearts out. Ethan leaves his apparent ambivalence on the beach. Griff paddles circles around everyone like a hyped up frother. Seth blows his knee trying to land an air in Indo. They go for it.

Should ya watch this thing? Sure, you should. Why wouldn’t you? I guess if you hate surf films, you should not. But, if you hate surf films, I’m not at all sure we can be friends.

When the film focuses on surfing, it’s compelling. The spaces in between seem to last too long. I guess that makes the film a lot like real life.

Mostly, I’m just hoping this flat spell ends before I have to watch Modern Collective.

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