As the film’s opening credits proclaim: Nic Cage is The Surfer, but he’s struggling to catch a wave. Securing his family’s future with a seafront house on a glorious beach in Western Australia is his main ambition. There’s just one issue: the locals aren’t friendly. Spearheaded by their cultish leader Scally (Julian McMahon), the jumped-up blokes who claim the beach as their own would rather knock your teeth out than let you surf. However, The Surfer is determined, he’ll just have to suffer first.
Unfortunately, so will we: The audience.
I have a theory about Nic Cage and his relationship with the filmmakers who cast him. You see, the man operates on multiple levels of ‘Cage-ness’ based exclusively on what is asked of him. For example, in “Face/Off” or “Con Air,” we probably have near-total levels of Cage-ness. Even this year, we saw him dazzle as the monstrous “Longlegs” — a performance that made me concerned for anyone who regularly listens to T.Rex.
The point is when you have the Nic Cage, you better not waste what he can do. It gives me no great pleasure to report that “The Surfer” is only operating at about 30-40% of Cage-ness. Even if you’re thinking “he’s more subtle, and somber, in something like “Pig” anyways”, you’d be right, but that’s not the angle here. So, what gives?
If you think I sound like I’m ragging on this film for not embracing the madness of its lead actor more, the real issue with “The Surfer” is its hesitation to do anything bolder with the rest of its premise and promises. It’s perplexingly restrained, not taking full advantage in immersing us in the mania that unfolds, one spectacular drug montage notwithstanding. Maybe it’s the confines of being a single-location movie, but I disagree. I think the film’s preoccupation with attempting to satirize Surfer culture (not a culture that isn’t worth satirizing, mind you) is not as sharp as the totally bonkers, warped reality thriller that is never fully realized.
With credit, this pops beautifully with color. Gorgeous hues of sparkling ocean blues. angry orange dirt. There’s also some creative use of various Aussie fauna, cinematographer Radosław Ładczuk must be commended. You can feel the intensity of the Australian sun as it bakes Cage’s spirit and brain with ferocity, and the moments where Cage is allowed to go off the rails are extremely funny (the “you eat the rat!” scene is an all-timer).
In the end, “The Surfer” is an ankle slapper rather than a colossal bomb wave of entertainment. A shame, but I wouldn’t say no to another Australian Nic Cage adventure if the opportunity presented itself. Then again, who would?
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