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Review: Dogtown and Z-Boys
Dogtown is a now-gentrified but then working-class neighborhood between Venice and Santa Monica, California. Kids there grew up obsessed with surfing, and with fighting off outsiders, especially in and around the dangerous pilings that once supported a decaying and abandoned amusement pier. A lot of kids were injured or killing surfing off of Dogtown. Since they could only surf in the morning, when the tides were right, they began filing their afternoons with an experiment: they put wheels on mini-surfboards to ride on the roadways that surrounded them. The Zephyr team -- named after a famous Dogtown surfboard store and hangout -- quickly became known for its innovative skateboarding style, much of it drawn from the techniques of the world's best ocean surfers.
Skateboarding waxed and waned in the 70's, until two developments caused the sport to take off (and, of course, this being America, to be commercially co-opted): somebody invented urethane wheels that could take the the twists, turns and leaps that the Zephyrs brought to their boarding, and California experienced a severe drought. In a wondrously American twist, hundreds of drained Southern California pools presented the Zephyr kids an enormous opportunity they instantly grasped. A new kind of skating was perfected and launched.
Usually ignoring outraged neighbors, pool owners and pursuing cops, the Z-boys (and a couple of girls) began cruising the curved sides of pools until they heard the first sirens, at which point they'd leap into some dingy car and take off for another pool. Eventually they lucked out: a terminally-ill teenager from a rich family prevailed on his father to let the Zephyrs use their enormous, empty backyard pool. Riders like Jay Adams and Tony Alva became some of the most celebrated skateboarders in the world, taking boarding to the next level. The eventual twists and turns of the lives of these young pioneers -- all interviewed in their current incarnations -- give the movie a poignant, sometimes shocking punch.
Writer Craig Stecyk wrote about the Zephyrs in a series of articles for skateboarding magazines, casting them as stylish urban guerillas exploiting and transforming American technology (neighborhood school playgrounds were concrete forms placed into the slopes of hills, perfect for illegal skating) to create both artistry and freedom. Stecyk and Stacy Peralta wrote and directed Dogtown with some funding from Vans (the Zephyr boys all wore blue Zephyr T-shirts and blue Vans sneakers).
It's a surprising film, innovative in its editing and herky-jerky flashbacks and sprinkled with great footage from the 70's and 80's. The film itself seems to replicate some of the Zephyr team moves. Peralta tracks and interviews the grown-up, middle-aged members of the original Z-boys, and while some have survived and prospered, you can't help feeling sad seeing the older images juxtaposed against the amazing energy, acrobatics and creativity of their younger selves. It's truly amazing what these kids did with some empty swimming pools and pared-down boards. Archival video and stills from the period really bring the story to life, too. We don't have to hear the saga recalled by its aging survivors; we can see the kinetic, obsessive, exciting images of the time (Jay Adams, in particular, is just astounding).
Like the creation of the Net, this is a particularly American tale, in which a handful of oddball teenagers can use their own alienation and outsiderness and create a rich -- if doomed -- culture of their own. While much of the country is off watching the latest bloated Star Wars epic, you can't do better than skip the long lines of groupies and find a theater showing Dogtown.
I am not exactly sure why, in posting a positive review about a movie, Katz has to bring in Star Wars and insult the movie and fans of the movie. It's a bit small of Katz to mention Star Wars and I wonder why exactly he is so bitter about the film. I mean, Star Wars is just a movie. If Katz didn't like it, he can post that in a review of Star Wars. In a review of a completely unrelated movie, the mentioning of Star Wars is out of place. It's similar to writing a review of some Linux distro and mentioning how awful you think Windows is. That opinion is fine but in a review, you generally focus on what you're reviewing. I've not seen this odd practice often and am really curious as to what the motivation is behind it. Why Jon? Why? By the way, "groupies" normally has a sexual lining to its meaning and you should probably substitute something like "rabid fan-boys." Although, as a fan of Star Wars, I'd appreciate it if you didn't go out of your way to belittle what I enjoy. You've implied that you're better than me because I enjoy Star Wars. Not nice Katz, not nice.
Well said, sir!
No unauthorized use. Trespassers will be shot. Survivors will be shot again.
Good lord. Maybe he just didn't like Star Wars.
I'm too much of a SW fan to watch the movies objectively, but I know plenty of people who hated Episode II, and it seems perfectly reasonable for them to have an opinion that differs from mine. I certainly don't feel threatened or defensive about it.
I don't think I'd let other movies get away with treacle like this: "I don't like sand. It's coarse, and rough, and it gets everywhere. Not like here. Everything here is smooth."
Meanwhile, Katz reviewed a movie today that you might actually like if you can drop your cynicism for an hour or two.
Ha!
I think you're right. The idea that when we see a new Star Wars film we remember how we can never be ten again.
I didn't think of that. Thanks for your post!
Oh, dear.
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Score 3? For what? Being wrong, at length? - smirkleton