We’ve been through the drill a million times
before; the waves, the quirky accents, the lifestyle. I
loathe every bit of it; there’s nothing worse than
sitting through and hour and a half of idiots
not-so-elegantly gliding about ocean water. But,
somehow, Riding Giants, which I attended on a
whim, after glancing at glowing review after glowing
review, won me over. Made by Stacy Peralta, who brought
us the magnificent and stunning skateboarding flick
Dogtown and Z-Boys, it represents a newer, fresher
type of surfer movie. I’m in amazement at the fact that
it has taken this long for a motion picture to be
released that both film-buffs and water-basking dudes
can enjoy, of this sort. I was losing hope on the
quality of documentation of beach-dwelling folk, but
Riding Giants has revitalized my interest in the
genre. It may contain the convention, never-ending
footage of wipeouts, drop-ins, and larger-than-life
waves that is to be expected, but at least I can sink my
teeth into most of its contents.
The difference between this
movie and the average surfing documentary is that
Peralta embraces reality in its making. In Riding
Giants, the possibility of the death of surfers when
they are riding big waves is explored and analyzed. This
opens up a fascinating concept. Are they really what we
stereotype them to be? Could they simply just be
meatheads who take a fifty/fifty chance at death because
they have nothing else to live for? Or, are they
seriously considering the risks involved, and making
their decisions based on strong passions for their
chosen lifestyle?
Most of the clips used are
derived from archival footage, but their assembly is
flawless, and always captivating. Peralta talks to
several people, ranging from average surfers to doctors
to oceanographers, but his primary focuses are Greg Noll
and Laird Hamilton. The former was the godfather of
surfing back in its early days, and the latter takes the
same title, currently. A variety of locations are also
zeroed in on; Pipeline and Northridge consume most of
the movie’s duration. And while they seem to be a little
less glamorous here than in, say, Blue Crush,
most of the shots serve as pure visual eye-candy, taking
on entirely surreal and beautiful forms.
The decisive ambition in
Dogtown and Z-Boys, and now, Riding Giants,
distinguishes Peralta as a true filmmaker, rather than a
simple surf/skate enthusiast. I suppose snowboarding is
the only popular extreme sport he has left to make a
documentary on, but as long as his work remains creative
and interesting to watch, I could care less about its
subject. When all is said and done, a film that is
simply well-made will usually always be able to win me
over, and Riding Giants, without a doubt, is
conducted superbly. It’s only sensible that I thoroughly
recommend it, as a result.
-Danny, Bucket Reviews (7.17.2004)