The Surfer (Theaters)
A delirious, unhinged Nic Cage surfer Western that crashes through humiliation, revenge, and gonzo chaos.
What’s it about? A man returns to the idyllic beach of his childhood to surf with his son. When he is humiliated by a group of locals, the man is drawn into a conflict that keeps rising and pushes him to his breaking point.
Who it’s for? Fans of wild Nicolas Cage performances, fans of genre-blending films, surfer movie enthusiasts, cult movie lovers drawn to gonzo storytelling, audiences who enjoy dark humor
Who should avoid? Anyone expecting a straightforward surfing movie, if you dislike tonal whiplash, those sensitive to relentless humiliation, casual moviegoers not up for crazy Cage
Watch if you like: Mandy, The Beach Bum, Point Break, The Lighthouse, Wake in Fright
News and Notes:
Released today
Premiered at Cannes 2024
Schmear’s Verdict: A delirious, punishing, and wildly entertaining addition to the Nic Cage mythos, The Surfer crashes through Western, survival, and psychedelic chaos with unhinged energy and a wicked grin.
The newest Nic Cage freakout The Surfer has a deliriously simple set-up. Cage plays “The Surfer,” an affable American in Australia intent on buying the home where he grew up. When he takes his son surfing to share the news, he’s taunted, bullied, and slowly driven mad by a handsome, aggressive, territorial local surf gang.
Directed by Lorcan Finnegan (Nocebo, Vivarium), the film is bathed in Australia’s gorgeous golden light. The retro title cards are stirring, and the look is saturated and contrasted in a vintage technicolor way. There’s some edenic Endless Summer-type imagery here, which makes what follows all the more batshit.
The leader of the NIMBS (Not in My Bodacious Swell) surfers is Scally, a.k.a. “The Guru,” a toned, tough male-rights demagogue played by note-perfect Julian McMahon. His crew doesn’t just hog the waves; they control the beach too, chanting “suffer, surfer” as they conduct nightly rituals before returning to their yuppie white-collar lives.
This sets up a pulpy B-movie Western, full of over-the-top close-ups, as Cage’s gringo outsider stares down the locals — and they gleefully fuck with him right back. Cage’s character is laid low in every sense, absorbing every slight imaginable, yet refusing to give up his dream of surfing this beach and belonging in the community.
As Cage camps out in the beach parking lot, the film cruelly plays with the comic and cosmic absurd. Every injustice imaginable (and many you couldn’t invent) befalls him, punctuated by mocking Kookaburra laughs. It’s an entertaining but often frustrating stretch that leaves you begging for cathartic release.
What begins as a Western soon mutates into a Fear Factor-meets-survival movie. Good thing no one takes punishment like Nicolas Cage. Finnegan knows this and pushes him through a Book of Job-level ringer — perhaps the most I’ve seen the performer endure (and that’s saying something). Dirty and deranged, like a disgraced Ron Burgundy, Cage bellows to no one that he needs to “make clams oreganata and clams casino on the veranda!” Propelling this madness is an awesome score by François Tétaz, blending surf rock and ’50s exotica.
It’s sometimes jarring to ride The Surfer’s tonal wave as it shifts from Western to survival thriller to psychedelic trip-out, but Finnegan steers it all with inventive flair. Thomas Martin’s script wraps things up neatly — maybe a bit too neatly. Even at 99 minutes, The Surfer can feel draining, but that’s part of the thrill.
As a delirious, punishing ride, it’s another wild addition to the Nic Cage mythos. And if nothing else, see it to watch Cage cram a rodent into a bully’s mouth, roaring, “Eat the rat!”
