Can't Surf On Our Turf

The Surfer is a 70's style, psychedelic, psychological thriller set entirely on a beach and adjoining car park. Nicholas Cage is the eponymous character who may or may not be losing (or already have lost) his mind. It is simultaneously playfully fun and ickily unpleasant.

Cage (his character is not named) takes his teenage son surfing, his plan being to show off the fancy clifftop pad he is in the process of buying, which also happens to be the house he grew up in. He doesn't get the chance however, as a group of alpha male surf bros have taken over the beach and declared it for local use only. His son returns to school, but Cage stays in the car park, determined to finalise his house deal and find out what is going on with Julian McMahon and his cult like band of beach thugs. Suffering a series of mishaps, he ends up stranded in the car park, and the baking heat, for days and begins to resemble the local hobo more than the successful businessman he began as.

Two things usually mark a good surf movie, cinematic surfing scenes and laid back beach philosophising. Here, both are flipped on their head. Any surfing happens at a distance, the viewer stranded along with the lead, watching the cool water through binoculars while we roast in the Australian sun, and the beach philosophy is repurposed to feed toxic male egos. The film wrong foots the audience in other ways too, starting off with "everyman about to snap and go on a rampage" vibes before dissolving into something more trippy and, at times, almost horror adjacent. Things remain grounded enough, thanks to the full on Australian flavour, achieved quite remarkably by an Irish director (Lorcan Finnegan) and writer (Thomas Martin). The sense of place is palpable, you feel the heat radiate from the screen, smell the stench of faeces on a water fountain and taste the sweat. This level of immersion can make for stressful viewing at times, as can the actions of the main character. The totting up of setbacks and his unraveling are believable, but you want to scream at him to just give up and leave. He can't of course, consumed by the idea that closing on this house will both fix his family and return him to the glory and joy of his youth. So he remains marooned in a car park, the beach he is barred from below him and the house he desperately wants above him, as his sanity erodes.

He may be a past Oscar winner and for a hot minute the world's biggest action star, but it really feels like Cage is currently in the best era of his career. A genre unto himself, he seems to be creating fascinating roles just by existing and it's impossible to imagine this film wasn't crafted with him in mind. He tackles the role with complete earnestness while still clearly having the time of his life and his enthusiasm sweeps you along, making event the grossest of moments palatable. You'd be hard pressed to find an actor who both gives as much to, and gets as much from, every role they play.

The film might be a bit aimless for some and a little gruelling for others, but this is delirious, cinematic sunstroke and perfect foil for Cage (he says this is the kind of film he would write himself). Another fascinating and unique movie from Finnegan, who is carving a niche for himself as a very interesting film maker.

8 Don't live here's out of 10 can't surf here's.

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