“I’m fed up with John John’s effortlessly deep pits.” Photo: Ben Thouard.
Maybe it’s just me, but I’m bored of watching great surfing. We’ve seen it all before, and because of the Instagram world we live in, we see it quicker and more often.
Like the rest of the surf world, I couldn’t wait for the release of View From a Blue Moon. I expected the greatest surf movie of all time; a “proper” surf film with a bit of narrative. But perhaps unlike the rest of the surf world, it left me a little cold. Admittedly the overall production is spectacular, the visuals are stunning, and the surfing is all-time, but the film is sorely lacking one key component: character.
The success of any story hinges on the strength of the characters. It doesn’t matter if if you love them, loathe them, or anything in-between, if a story has a memorable character, it will be a success. Human beings are the most valuable and fascinating commodity on earth. Why can’t surf films bring us a little more personality to cling to?
Do the sponsors who cut the checks think that our surf heroes just aren’t that interesting on dry land? Perhaps. I’m sure we’ve all met people who are truly exceptional in their chosen field but out of context can come across as hapless nobodies, deficient in charm and interpersonal skills. But even if this is the case with top surfers, this is exactly the sort of detail I want to know!
I’m bored of watching Craig Anderson highline tiny boards. I’m fed up with John John’s effortlessly deep pits. I’m sick of Kelly’s silky cutties. I want to see the characters behind the skills. I want to listen to Ando talk about his favorite root vegetable and shout at the screen, “That’s my favorite, too, Craig! Maybe we can be friends!”
How many times have you taken a notion for someone in the spotlight, simply because you’ve heard something about them (outside of whatever it is they are famous for) that makes you feel connected? Maybe they flunked math at school, like you did. Perhaps they were raised in a single parent household, just as you were. Or maybe it’s something mundane such as a shared birthday. These things matter. These things make us human, not just shiny, superhuman stars.
The problem is, when you watch these glossy clips surfing becomes something alien, something unobtainable. I don’t want to see the final product. I want the flaws, the work in progress. I want to see the steps and sacrifices it took to get there. I want to identify with the normalites of my heroes. I want a sense of commonality, even if it is just root vegetables.
Our lust to discover more about the people we admire is insatiable. Social media, in theory, should bring us closer to our idols; but instead it has spawned more. Everyone is a celebrity. Not so long ago we imagined this new, democratic media would convey a sense of reality, giving us an insight into lives behind the mask of fame. This couldn’t be further from the truth. Yet still we search, despite homogeneous social media outputs which project more but reveal less.
We need to see a more human side to our stars, to reduce them to a relatable level. We are already plagued by a society who engineer their days in order to look good in their virtual life rather than their actual life. We are drowning in unobtainable #lifegoals. Surf films without any human context are a reflection of this.
For many of us, surfing is our reality check; the thing that keeps us grounded. It’s a shame that surf media is often the polar opposite of this. Just for once, I’d love to watch a surf film which leaves me with the sense that we are all simply people who love to chase waves. I definitely want to admire the dedication that it took for great surfers to become great, but I want to see the people behind the waves as well as in front of them.
