<< Back 8/14/02 Flicks By Hunter Pope Dogtown and Z Director: Stacy Peralta. Written by Peralta and Craig Stecyk. Featuring: Jay Adams, Tony Alva, Bob Biniak, Paul Constantineau, Shogo Kubo, Jim Muir, Peggy Oki, Stacy Peralta. Narrated by Sean Penn Rating: PG-13 — language and some drug references, enormous egos that may expand your television to unhealthy proportions Have you ever stared off into space and contemplated the magnitude of it all? The first thing you fathom is that stars that are visual to earthlings stand a good chance of no longer existing. The next thing that ruptures your mind is that our galaxy is a mere granule amongst the billions that stretch across the infinite boundaries of space. The third and obvious query is, could there be life out there? Surely there is. Too many worlds exist for there not to be some kind of life form, even if it’s bacteria. Yet, there are many out there who fervently believe that Earth is the center of the universe. I find this a touch arrogant. How could we possibly be the answer to all of the universe’s complex questions? On a smaller scale, there are folks out there who believe their little worlds encompass everything else. The Z-Boys obviously thought they were the center of the skateboarding cosmos when they brought back the sport in the late ’70s. Yes, they did resuscitate a fad that had petered in the mid-60s; and yes, they did give it a rusty edge that was different from the fluff days that resembled figure skating. But, their full-on arrogance and self-indulgent forays make it hard for anyone to appreciate what they did for the sport. They did revolutionize skateboarding with slicing moves garnered off a surfboard and introducing aerial jaunts that would have made a bird dizzy. But surely there had to be other boarders out there somewhere in the vast U.S., who had a hand in the rebirth of skateboarding. Sadly, you’d never know from this documentary. It’s all about the Z-Boys, and how cool it was to be a pack of ass ... I mean, self-confident chest –beaters (although to their “credit,” there was one woman on their team). The Z-Boys stand for the Zephyr Team, a mish mash of down and out kids from the oceanfront neighborhood between Santa Monica and Venice in California. Nicknamed “Dogtown,” this area was once an amusement park and resort haven. Bad weather and disinterest drove the flocks away, and by the mid-60’s, the area had become a graveyard of gnarled steel and chunks of ugly concrete (although today the area contains pricey condos and trendy restaurants). Called the last remaining “beachfront slum” in the Los Angeles area, Dogtown became a haven for the “shady” side of things. Out of this rubble rose a group of tough kids (from mostly broken homes) who took out their aggression on the waves. And these weren’t the pretty blue eight-footers that splashed onto golden beaches. These were angry waves that congregated amongst ripped up piers and old roller coaster rails. This was the Z-Boys’ hang-out. The fine line between bravery and stupidity was enacted daily as these boys surfed amongst debris that could impale the unwary. It was for locals only, and outsiders were never welcome: “We would throw glass, concrete blocks, rocks at anyone who wasn’t from there,” one reminiscer said as he chuckled at the violence of it. The haven for these kids was Jeff Ho & Zephyr Production Surf Shop, founded by Ho, Craig Stecyk (whose insightful and imaginative articles on Dogtown in Skateboard Magazine turned the kids into legends) and Skip Engblom to produce customized, ahead-of-the-curve (or revolutionary) surfboards. Ho was like a tough love father for these kids, giving them odd jobs when they weren’t boarding. The insurrection began in 1972 when polyurethane wheels came into vogue, replacing the old skateboard wheels that would buck the rider even if a tiny stick got under it. The next revolution was the great California drought of 1975, which emptied a lot of swimming pools, prompting boarders to trespass and learn new moves. The Z-Boys were on top of both these movements, and their moves were tailored from the concrete. The Zephyr team gained (head-swells) national attention in 1975 when its members competed at the Bahne-Cadillac Skateboard Championship (a.k.a. the Del Mar Nationals). Their slashing moves and dirty looks were a far cry from the almost regal old-schoolers of the sport. Their thumb-nose at the old style made the teens supernovas over night. The biggest were Jay Adams, 13-year-old prodigy who improvised his boarding on the spot (spurring millions to copy his moves); Tony Alva, a cocky, sneering fellow who is remembered as the sport’s Michael Jordan and Dennis Rodman meshed into one wonderful figure; and Stacy Peralta, who wisely used his skills to an entrepreneurial advantage. By 19, he was also behind the scenes, directing skateboard videos with the help of Craig Stecyk. And guess who is the director? Yep, Mr. Peralta. He was an original Z-Boy, and all the people he interviews (with the exception of Henry Rollins, Pearl Jam’s Jeff Ament and Fugazi’s Ian MacKaye) are old Z-Boys. It’s like watching a very well made promo movie of a product the director wants you to buy. The “consumers” are all 40 something men who all seem to be still living in the glory days. Their edge and contempt for the outside world is still there, as well as their disdain for any boarder outside the Dogtown Universe. Of course, they’re all still legends (especially Peralta and Alva) and you would be hard pressed to find any skateboarder who doesn’t cite them as heavy influences. They were and are the best, but they make damn sure you know that. However, the film is still highly enjoyable. Peralta’s jilting camera work channeled the frenetic style that the Z-Boys mastered in swimming pools and jutted concrete lots. The soundtrack is full of that old aggression — Black Sabbath, Neil Young, Iggy and the Stooges, Jimi Hendrix and Blue Oyster Cult — that gave me those hardened tears of nostalgia. And it’s a fascinating account of a counter-culture that was sowed amongst a pile of industrial leftovers. I only wish that Peralta had interviewed more folks outside the Z-Boy stratosphere. The only real outsider is narrator, Sean Penn, and his voice seems half-bored by the subject material. Perhaps all the self-gluttony had gotten to Mr. Penn. Despite my misgivings, I still recommend seeing this movie. It’s also spurred me to read more about these people, and it made me understand that a tough upbringing can give an exterior that could shatter a diamond. Plus, they didn’t start the sport for the glory that would rain riches on most of them. They were bored, insecure kids that needed an outlet for their pent-up anxiety. It’s a shame it’s still with most of them.