Today's Movie
Venom: The Last Dance (2024)
- Action | Adventure | Sci-Fi | Thriller
IMDB Rating: 6.2/10 (22,852 user ratings) 41 | Rank: 3
Showtimes:
Next Event:
Anne Lamott — Somehow: Thoughts on Love Wed Nov 13 @ 7:20PM Category: Lecture/Presentation |
REVIEW
SBIFF World Premiere: A Deeper Shade of Blue
-
Written byChris Johnson
-
Photographed byA. Arthur Fisher
It was BYOB (Bring Your Own Board) night as surfers, shapers, filmmakers and industry heavyweights including Peter Townend, Shaun Tomson, Mickey Munoz, Derek Hynd, Reny Yater, Kathy Kohner Zuckerman (the original “Gidget”), Randy Rarick and Bob McKnight, arrived with sticks in tow, encompassing all manner of shapes and styles (befitting the film’s historic take on board evolution).
A lso arriving was a cadre of surf-film vanguard: Bruce Brown (The Endless Summer), Sam George and Stacey Peralta (Riding Giants, Dogtown and Z-Boys) and Dana Brown (Step Into Liquid).
One would think that opening such a film in surf-centric Santa Barbara, before an ocean-savvy, discerning audience with the giants of the genre in attendance, would be a daunting, if not nerve-wracking endeavor. If so, director McCoy showed no signs of fear as he bounded across the carpet, greeting friends, giving hugs, high-fives and shakas, posing for countless photos and making sure all were included. In short, sharing the infectious energy, stoke and aloha that permeates much of his film.
Once inside, the rowdy surf crowd (is there any other kind?) began its chorus of hoots and hollers that would last throughout the film’s duration.
There’s a Hawaiian expression, “Nana I Ke Kumu,” which, roughly translated, means “look to the source.” It’s here that A Deeper Shade of Blue begins, by examining the origins of surfing with early Hawaiians riding wooden alaia plank boards. After an extended period of missionary suppression, a bold act of defiance by the beautiful Princess Ka’iulani in the late 1800’s once again enabled islanders to embrace the sport of kings.
Using a similar, layered editing and implied motion technique employed in Riding Giants, McCoy utilizes vintage photographs and illustrations to trace the evolution of the surfboard from the aforementioned seminal alaia to the Waikiki Beach Boys’ modified “hot curl” boards. The fin addition of mainland transplant Tom Blake and subsequent decades of innovation from renowned watermen including Santa Barbara’s George Greenough and Aussie Simon Anderson, increase the performance and fin-count, culminating in today’s walk-on-water hydrofoil boards (previously showcased to surreal, breathtaking effect in Step Into Liquid). The evolution ultimately comes full circle, as the film explores contemporary fascination with the original Polynesian form, and how some modern surfers are eschewing expensive, chemical-laden boards and adopting (and expanding upon) the traditional, eco-friendly alaia design.
McCoy also deserves props for giving the Wahine their due, highlighting the perspectives and contributions of surfing’s graceful and hard-charging women, past and present, including Bethany Hamilton, Jericho Poppler and Stephanie Gilmore (the spirit of the late Rell Sunn is also a continuous presence throughout the film).
Where McCoy really shows his chops though, is in the individual profile sequences, showcasing local surfers riding their home breaks, some literally (as in the case of Oahu’s Jamie O’Brien) in their own backyards. O’Brien (whose father was a North Shore lifeguard) is shown holding a clinic on taking off and remaining deep… really deep in Pipeline’s epic barrels. Manoa Drollet tames Teahupoo’s enormous, deceptively smooth, freight-train fierce reef break with a focused Tahitian grace that (almost) makes it look easy (McCoy’s use of motorized underwater sleds to obtain tracking shots from the backside of the wave, adds to the breathtaking visual poetry). Appearing as if it would roar off the screen and engulf the theater, a particularly intense session at Tasmania’s Shipsterns Bluff, elicited an audible gasp of disbelief from the audience as local Marty Paradisis, drops in on a huge, thick, ungodly, multi-sectioning beast of a break. Later, in a particularly inspired and soulful sequence, Australia’s Derek Hynd seamlessly slides and spins across faces on a board sans nose or tail to an Iggy Pop soundtrack.
The epic Arlington Theatre screen - still one of the best venues in which to view a film like this - intensifies McCoy’s already stunning visuals and angles, placing the audience squarely in the line-up.