Falzon on location in Hawaii, circa 1970. photo: Jeff Divine
There are a lot of headlines about the British Royals these days, what between the once-in-a-generation coronation of King Charles III, tabloid shadenfreude over the “eroding brand value” of errant Prince Harry and Meghan, Duchess of Sussex, Prince Andrew’s banishment following sex crimes allegations, not to mention breathless speculation as to what sort of hat Princess Kate will wear to Ascot.
One royal tidbit that didn’t make major headlines, however, was the release of recipients who made 2023’s “King’s Birthday Honors List,” marking “contributions and services “ of individuals across the UK and other Commonwealth realms of Charles III. And that on that esteemed list, right along with myriad politicians, physicians, scientists, military officers and educators, was surf filmmaker Albert “Albe” Falzon, joining the Medal Order of Australia, “…for service to surfing and the visual arts.”
About time, too. Truth is, Falzon, 78, is not only perhaps surf film history’s most soulful auteur, but also one of the sport’s most significant, albeit lesser known, influencers of contemporary surf culture. An early transplant from Sydney’s suburban beaches to New South Wales’ bucolic Central Coast in the early 1960s, by the decade’s end Falzon had shifted an interest in photography to 16mm film, the transition meshing perfectly with Australian surfing’s potent “Country Soul” era. A relatively brief cultural shift that saw many Aussie surfers, including some of its most famous, seeking a more “natural” existence far from crowded, uptight metropolises in the South. This new lifestyle was characterized by funky, communal living, fresh veggies, righteous “old ladies” and bongs full of Afghan Primo. Oh, and plenty of perfect waves breaking along the regions many point, reefs and sandbars, preferably ridden on surfboards crudely shaped in farm sheds. Easy to poke fun at today, but for a short time this trend was a sincere aesthetic expression – and a lot of really good surfing was being done.
Falzon captured it all in his very first film, 1972’s Morning Of The Earth. Leaning more on a grainy, verité approach than technical mastery, Falzon maintained his artistic integrity throughout, choosing not to include narration, let alone identify any surfers, surf spots, or in the case of some of the very first footage of surfing in Bali, even what country they were in. And if compared to other surf films of the day some of the shots seemed weirdly framed (Nat Young ripping perfect sand-bottom points…but only shown from the waist down?), the Indonesian cockfight ran waaay too long, and the device of cutting to a fisheye sunburst shot every time a surfer pulled into the tube really grated on the nerves, these details were easily forgiven in appreciation for the film’s many remarkable segments, including the amazing surfing of Michael Peterson at Kirra, and Uluwatu being surfed for the first time.
Yet it was Falzon’s evocative depiction of “Country Soul” that resonated most powerfully, aided, no doubt, by an exceptional original soundtrack provided by some of Australia’s most talented recording artists. Cuts from the likes of G. Wayne Thomas, Taman Shud and J. John Francis eventually earned the soundtrack album a gold record, with Thomas’ “Open Up Your Heart” actually topping the Australian singles chart. The combination resulted in an audio-visual representation that wasn’t just part of a zeitgeist, but actually created one. Following the film’s 1972 premier and successful run at the Sydney Opera House, Morning Of The Earth became a genuine sensation Down Under.
But here in North America, not so much. Held in thrall of footage of the sport’s biggest names surfing Oahu’s North Shore, which the period’s other surf films featured almost exclusively, and having already been exposed to the spectacular, cinematically innovative work done in MacGillivray-Freeman’s Five Summer Stories, it could’ve been that American surfers found it easy to shrug off an artsy, color-saturated movie filled with surfers they didn’t know, riding fun-sized waves at spots they didn’t recognize, with only a brief visit to Pipeline at the end. Whatever the case, Morning Of The Earth became one of those films that most American surfers of an age remember seeing only once during its run up and down the coasts way back then.
Albe Falzon at home. “At first I thought they called the wrong number!”
Fast forward to 1986. SURFING magazine, producing a companion video to a surfing history edition, obtains from Falzon a VHS copy of Morning Of The Earth, the only copy that existed in America. It later sits on a shelf for over a year, before it’s purloined by a certain senior editor (to remain unnamed), who takes it home and watches it for the first time since the screening at San Francisco’s Giannini High School in 1972. He experiences an epiphany and immediately begins putting sprouts on his sandwiches and surfing without a leash. He eventually shares it with eccentric Central Coast surfer/shaper Dave Parmenter, who immediately begins shaping post-modern versions of Michael Peterson’s Kirra models in his San Luis Obispo farm shed, all the while listening to the soundtrack album.
In 1994 Parmenter shares his copy of the original VHS with visiting Andrew Kidman, 1988 Australian Junior Champion and teenaged editor of WAVES magazine, who after viewing immediately quits the mag to direct and produce Litmus, his version of MOTE, starring decidedly “out of the mainstream” performers like Wayne Lynch, Tom Curren, Derek Hynd and Joel Fitzgerald, and featuring an original soundtrack by Kidman’s own band, the Val Dusty Experiment. Cult status follows (“sparking a look-back-to-go-forward movement in surfing,” wrote surf historian Matt Warshaw), inspiring next-Gen, “alt” filmmakers like Chris Malloy (Thicker Than Water, Broke Down Melody), who champion a more soulful approach beyond typical surf stardom, including the riding of ‘alternative’ surfboards, a trend that eventually leads to the widespread embrace of the updated Lis Fish and boards like …Lost’s 5’5”, three-fin Round Nose Fish, and later models like the mini-Simmons, asyms and mid-lengths; groovy surfers like Dave Rastovich, Ryan Burch, Alex Knost, Steph Gilmore (off tour) Torren Martyn and a two-time world champion who keeps bees. In short, a helping create a picture of what truly modern surfing and surf culture looks like…and it all started with Albe Falzon’s Morning of The Earth.
Of course, Falzon went on to other notable achievements, including directing films like 1973’s Crystal Voyager (this time tapping Pink Floyd for some soundtrack work), 1982’s Kumba Mela, covering an Indian Saddhu’s epic river pilgrimage (soundtrack by Brian Eno), 1985’s Festivals of the World, a six-part series shot in Sri Lanka, India, Burma, Ladakh and Tibet, and eventually screened in over 80 countries. And 1992’s Can’t Step Twice On The Same Piece of Water. A creative resumè which, taken as a whole, more than justifies the recent royal honors bestowed on the characteristically modest Falzon – especially the “visual arts” bit. But if you want to really understand why a surfer made the King’s Birthday Honor List, stream Morning Of The Earth, turn down the noise, turn up the sound and set your “Country Soul” free.
