Wave in Fright

The Surfer (Lorcan Finnegan, 2024 / 2025)

The redemption arc of the eccentric Nicolas Cage is one that will be discussed by film bros for many years. The Oscar winner and Hollywood A-lister fell from mainstream grace and spent years in straight-to-video hell, before emerging again an as an indie film hero. He had also become an internet icon, prior; thanks to comical videos and memes, putting him on similar pedestal to Chuck Norris and Keanu Reeves. And so, Cage essentially cashed-in on his unhinged performances, leading to a late career renaissance and garnering critical acclaim with the films Mandy (2018) and Pig (2021). His latest endeavour, the psychological thriller The Surfer (2024 / 2025), is another notable manic performance in his illustrious career.

Set in the fictional locale known as Luna Bay in Western Australia, our protagonist makes his entrance driving his son to a house he's eager to buy. This residential property has personal significance to Cage's character, as it was his former childhood home. It's eventually revealed why he ended up in California; hence the lack of an Aussie accent. The Surfer is eager to buy it. Like all midlife crises, looking to rekindle the good times of his past; including his love of surfing. Being a Nicolas Cage film, nothing is ever that easy. It's not long before he's facing the prospect of being gazumped over his childhood home. To make matters worse, the territorial bogans won't allow non-locals to catch the waves. "Don't live here; don't surf here". 

One would assume, given The Surfer's premise and Cage playing the action hero in the past, it would be heading into familiar territory; it doesn't. Instead, director Lorcan Finnegan opts for a surreal endurance, that's somewhere in between the fractured mental state of The Swimmer (1968) and the daylight horror of the Aussie nightmare Wake in Fright (1971). Furthermore, Cage spends much of the film trapped in a car park like a fly in a web. Finnegan absolutely relishes putting Cage through a gamut of suffering to it coming across as sadistic. Observing Cage gradually degrade to the point of having to rummage through bins for food, and drinking water from puddles littered with cigarette butts, is both tragic and farcical.

Yet, despite some heavy themes, The Surfer does not to really dwell into really psychological horror territory like those other films. It's first and foremost a vehicle accommodating Cage's comfort zone in going doolally. Therefore, Finnegan's film is equally an alternative comedy as it is a psychological thriller, in many respects.

Before long, Cage's dreams begin to shatter in a series of anxiety driven scenarios. A vagrant, credited in the film as the Bum (Nic Cassim), living in a broken down car, shares many ambiguous similarities with Cage's Surfer. The Bum warns our eponymous character that the leader of the local surf thugs is the one responsible for the death of his son, along with killing his dog, too. 

Scally (Julian McMahon), a men's surf guru, serves as the film's antagonist. Dressed in a hooded, red towel robe and sporting and a constant devilish smile, Scally puts the Surfer through the absolute ringer; where his entire world begins to collapse. It reaches the point where he even doubts his very existence given the grand conspiratorial scheme that seems to be against him. Even nature itself plays a part in crapping on the titular hero, as a parrakeet literally shit on him, along with a run-in he has with a rat; evoking the Australian ecological horror Long Weekend (1978).

The Surfer's biggest highlight is Cage charging to the beach wielding a "LOCALS ONLY" sign post as a weapon and confronting Pitbull (Alexander Bertrand), one of Scally's bully disciples. The fight results in Cage ramming a dead rat into the bully's mouth. "You eat it! Eat the rat!", the most quotable line in the entire film.

A difficult film to pin down. I enjoyed this a great deal, but it's definitely not for everyone; even I can admit to that. A very close friend of mine, who had seen it prior to me, absolutely hated it and warned me about it. Curiosity obviously got the better of me, and I was far more positive about it than him, as I found it a far more rewarding experience than many of the other films that have been released this year. Therefore, I can absolutely see The Surfer being considered a Marmite film. Personally, this is Cage's most entertaining film since Mandy, so make of that what you will.

Bad Meaning Good

Steppenwolf (Adilkhan Yerzhanov, 2024 / 2025) 

Not a film about the Rock band.

Like many out there, my ignorant knowledge of the former Soviet republic of Kazakhstan came from comedian Sacha Baron Coen's character Borat. Therefore, when Adilkhan Yerzhanov's nihilistic and violent post-western Steppenwolf (2024 / 2025) blipped its way onto my radar, I was more than just a little bit intrigued by it. Turns out Yerzhanov's film has its own sense of humour; one that is both dark and deadpan, peppered here and there amongst a brutal dystopian world.

The plot involves Tamara (Anna Starchenko), a woman with a stammer, looking for her missing son, Tamika. Her search leads to her nonchalantly walking into a violent gun battle between rural lawmen and rebels in a remote police precinct. During the bullet-ridden massacre, Tamara meets Brajyuk (Berik Aitzhanov), a police interrogator / torturer who agrees to help her for a price. The pair share a common objective, as the person linked to Tamika's abduction is also someone that Brajyuk has a personal vendetta with.

There's an interesting dynamic between the pair of protagonists. They're an obvious odd couple. Tamara comes across as an angelic like entity in Yerzhanov's hellscape. She's introduced with a religious painting falling from her wall while praying. Her son immediately goes missing after this scene. Tamara's timid and introverted disposition is starkly contrasted with the rough and coarse world she inhabits. An assault rife fails on multiple attempts when fired at her. Brajyuk, on the other hand, is almost the devil incarnate on occasions; an individual who appears stoic initially, but breaks out into childish dances at times. He is a cold-blooded killer, with almost no sense of honour. Brajyuk goes beyond the boundaries of conventional anti-hero territory to complete villain on occasions. Yet, their relationship is what makes this hellish road movie such compelling viewing. At the heart of this nihilistic and misanthropic film, is a quest for some semblance of humanity.

Particularly fond of the scene where Tamara musters the strength to cobble more than a few words together imploring for Brajyuk's help: "We need to find Timka, save him. He won't survive without me. They'll kill him. No one needs him. No one needs me. There's no good. I know it. I knew it all along. But it is necessary. Good is necessary. Please help. You're kind. Please help. Please...You're a kind person. Please help. We need to save Timka. You're kind. Aren't you? You are kind. Please help find Timka. Please." As the camera horizontally pans away from Tamara, it fixes on the contemplative Brajyuk. Her words seem to affect him. Alas, his response mockingly imitating her and laughing. And yet, for a split second, it's almost as if a shred of good was still lurking somewhere within his soul. Both actors' performances are exceptional.

The Kazakh Steppe is a striking location in this film. The arid region lends itself well to its dystopian setting. Along with Steppenwolf being shot in 2.39:1 aspect ratio, Yerkinbek Ptyraliyev's cinematography evokes classic westerns of the past. Those glorious widescreen shots of the natural vistas is inherent here. The morning mist over the grassy plains looks stunningly mystical.

Furthermore, some scenes take obvious inspiration from the western genre; notably, the iconic doorway scene of John Wayne walking away in John Ford's The Searchers (1956). That scene is referenced multiple times in Steppenwolf; even bookending the film. European westerns also wield their aesthetic influence on the film; particularly the framing and composition of Sergio Leone's westerns. Steppenwolf's handling of violence and male machismo is definitely evocative of Sam Peckinpah's work.

Bizarrely, Steppenwolf's soundtrack consists of effervescent sounding synthpop. Mixed feelings about this. Given the oppressive tone of the film and the gravitas of their shared task, I'm not sure this was the right choice. If anything, I got the impression Yerzhanov thought, "It worked with the couple in Nicholas Winding Refn's Drive (2011), why not try it here?" 

George Miller's Mad Max films are the most obvious influences, however. Given its desolate and cruel setting, you would be forgiven into thinking Steppenwolf's characters exist in a post-apocalypse. Life is cheap and dispensable. The morally bankrupt appear to reap the most chance of surviving in this world. If that's not enough, Brajyuk leather jacket is missing sleeve; an obvious reference to Max's wardrobe in Mad Max 2 (1981).

However, Steppenwolf does have some its faults. Its writing isn't quite up to par with the stunning visuals and palpable atmosphere. In fact, it becomes quite lacking in the final act of the film and relies heavily on its dystopian vibe and cool visuals; hence the pacing takes a hit and crawls to a much slower pace than what ought to be necessary. Character developments also kind of take a back seat. Thus, this section of the film is less Max Rockatansky and more Max Rockatarkovsky. Take for instance a scene involving Brajyuk meeting with his estranged father. Little is known of their past relationship, hence the resolution between the pair comes across as hollow and forgettable. The climactic battle with the regional gang boss / warlord feels rushed and anticlimactic. The old adage of the journey being more important than destination being taken far too literally by Yerzhanov. More importantly, without venturing into spoiler territory, the final scene between Tamara and Brajyuk is one that is both unsatisfying and bathetic.

Despite these issues, Steppenwolf is still a very good film, overall. One that I'm looking forward to revisiting again; possibly before the year is out. The type of late night genre mashup where you're not sure whether you actually watched it, or dreamt it. A tough, brutal and violent piece of cinema, yet still a beautiful and mesmerising viewing experience. Can definitely envision this becoming a modern cult film over the next few years.

Out of Sight (and Sound)

Despite Letterboxd being another example of narcissists running rampant and ruining another social media platform with their brainlet opinions, I do concede it's an invaluable medium in collating various data relating to films logged there.

What's particularly noteworthy are the one hundred films from the 1960s which got a score of four stars or higher from me on the site. Haven't ventured further back than the '70s when compiling films picks from various years on this blog. In any case, it does prove the '60s was a more productive decade than the measly eighteen films from the 2020s which also scored as highly as them.

By no means is it a best of list, but it does show everything that I've liked and logged there between 2014-2016 and my return in 2022 to the present day.

 

Beat Girl (Edmond T. Gréville, 1960)

Black Sunday (Mario Bava, 1960) 

The City of the Dead (John Llewellyn Moxey, 1960)

Eyes Without a Face (Georges Franju, 1960) 

Le Trou (Jacques Becker, 1960) 

Peeping Tom (Michael Powell, 1960) 

Psycho (Alfred Hitchcock, 1960) 

Spartacus (Stanley Kubrick, 1960)

The Time Machine (George Pal, 1960) 

Village of the Damned (Wolf Rilla, 1960) 

Cash on Demand (Quentin Lawrence, 1961)

The Curse of the Werewolf (Terence Fisher, 1961) 

The Day the Earth Caught Fire (Val Guest, 1961)

The Guns of Navarone (J. Lee Thompson, 1961)

The Innocents (Jack Clayton, 1961)

Yojimbo (Akira Kurosawa, 1961) 

Cape Fear (J. Lee Thompson, 1962)

Carnival of Souls (Herk Harvey, 1962) 

Dr. No (Terence Young, 1962) 

The Manchurian Candidate (John Frankenheimer, 1962)

The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance (John Ford, 1962) 

What Ever Happened to Baby Jane? (Robert Aldrich, 1962) 

The Birds (Alfred Hitchcock, 1963) 

Black Sabbath (Mario Bava, 1963)

Blood Feast (Herschell Gordon Lewis, 1963) 

The Demon (Brunello Rondi, 1963)

The Girl Who Knew Too Much (Mario Bava, 1963) 

The Great Escape (John Sturges, 1963) 

The Haunting (Robert Wise, 1963)

Jason and the Argonauts (Don Chaffey, 1963)

L'Immortelle (Alain Robbe-Grillet, 1963)

The Sadist (James Landis, 1963) 

The Servant (Joseph Losey, 1963)

The Whip and the Body (Mario Bava, 1963) 

Blood and Black Lace (Mario Bava, 1964) 

First Men in the Moon (Nathan Juran, 1964) 

A Fistful of Dollars (Sergio Leone, 1964) 

Carry On Cleo (Gerald Thomas, 1964)

Goldfinger (Guy Hamilton, 1964) 

It Happened Here (Andrew Mollo, Kevin Brownlow, 1964)

The Last Man on Earth (Ubaldo Ragona, Sidney Salkow, 1964) 

Onibaba (Kaneto Shindō, 1964)

The Train (John Frankenheimer, 1964)

Two Thousand Maniacs! (Herschell Gordon Lewis, 1964)

White Slaves of Chinatown (Joseph P. Mawra, 1964)

Zulu (Cy Endfield, 1964) 

Bunny Lake Is Missing (Otto Preminger, 1965)

The Collector (William Wyler, 1965) 

Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! (Russ Meyer, 1965) 

For a Few Dollars More (Sergio Leone, 1965)

The Hill (Sidney Lumet, 1965)

The Ipcress File (Sidney J. Furie, 1965) 

Motorpsycho! (Russ Meyer, 1965)

Mudhoney (Russ Meyer, 1965) 

The Nanny (Seth Holt, 1965)

Repulsion (Roman Polanski, 1965) 

Alfie (Lewis Gilbert, 1966)

The Battle of Algiers (Gillo Pontercovo, 1966)

Carry On Screaming (Gerald Thomas, 1966) 

Daleks' Invasion Earth: 2150A.D. (Gordon Flemyng, 1966)

Django (Sergio Corbucci, 1966)

Dracula: Prince of Darkness (Terence Fisher, 1966) 

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly (Sergio Leone, 1966)

Kill, Baby... Kill! (Mario Bava, 1966)

The Plague of the Zombies (John Gilling, 1966) 

Trans-Europ-Express (Alain Robbe-Grillet, 1966)

The War Game (Peter Watkins, 1966) 

Belle de Jour (Luis Buñuel, 1967)

Bonnie and Clyde (Arthur Penn, 1967)

Cool Hand Luke (Stuart Rosenberg, 1967)

Death Rides a Horse (Giulio Petroni, 1967)

The Dirty Dozen (Robert Aldrich, 1967) 

In the Heat of the Night (Norman Jewison, 1967)

Hombre (Martin Ritt, 1967) 

Point Blank (John Boorman, 1967) 

Quatermass and the Pit (Roy Ward Baker, 1967)

Le Samouraï (Jean-Pierre Melville, 1967) 

Spider Baby (Jack Hill, 1967)

Carry On Up the Khyber (Gerald Thomas, 1968)

Barbarella (Roger Vadim, 1968) 

Danger: Diabolik! (Mario Bava, 1968) 

The Devil Rides Out (Terence Fisher, 1968) 

The Great Silence (Sergio Corbucci, 1968)

Night of the Living Dead (George A. Romero, 1968) 

Once Upon a Time in the West (Sergio Leone, 1968)

Planet of the Apes (Franklin J. Schaffner, 1968) 

Rosemary's Baby (Roman Polanski, 1968)

The Swimmer (Frank Perry, 1968) 

Targets (Peter Bogdanovich, 1968)

The Thomas Crown Affair (Norman Jewison, 1968) 

Twisted Nerve (Roy Boulting, 1968)

Where Eagles Dare (Brian G. Hutton, 1968)

Witchfinder General (Michael Reeves, 1968) 

Army of Shadows (Jean-Pierre Melville, 1969)

Blind Beast (Yasuzō Masumura, 1969) 

Camille 2000 (Radley Metzger, 1969)

Carry On Camping (Gerald Thomas, 1969) 

The Italian Job (Peter Collinson, 1969) 

The Laughing Woman (Pierro Schiavazappa, 1969)

The Wild Bunch (Sam Peckinpah, 1969)

 

Not entirely sure what the list reveals about your host, other than finding Gerald Thomas, the director of the Carry On films, being a far more prolific film director compared to revered auteurs Akira Kurosawa, Stanley Kubrick and Federico Fellini.

Curious to revisit those Alain Robbe-Grillet films, as I doubt I would have rated them so highly today compared to whenever I logged them on Letterboxd.