Directed by: Lorcan Finnegan
Written by: Thomas Martin
Run Time: 1 hour 39 minutes
Nicolas Cage is no stranger to a cinematic meltdown, so much so that he could easily be considered the definitive authority on them. From The Wicker Man (2006) to Mandy (2018), and countless others before, after and in-between, he’s perfected losing his shit on screen. Something that characters in Irish director Lorcan Finnegan’s films often experience too. His surrealist titles such as Vivarium (2019) and Nocebo (2022) have seen his characters pushed to the edge of insanity – so who better than the king of crazy himself, Nicolas Cage, to continue this trend for his latest film, The Surfer.
He stars as a man – “The Surfer” – who returns to a beach near to his childhood home in Australia. He’s planning to surf there with his teenage son, but after being intimidated by an aggressive group of locals who refuse to let them into the water, “Don’t live here, don’t surf here!” they exclaim, he decides to take action. What follows is a nasty conflict between the two which increasingly takes its toll on Cage’s titular character, ultimately causing him to steadily lose grip on reality.
At first, Finnegan’s film unfolds in a uniform, unhurried manner – perhaps even a little too slowly. But after the initial altercation between the two parties, things go from bad to worse for the surfer; his car breaks down, his phone battery runs out and his surfboard goes missing – and this is just the start of it. His streak of bad luck is at first plausible, but as these small inconveniences begin to amalgamate into something more severe, his misfortune gains an unbelievable and uncontrollable momentum, aptly matched by the increased pace of the film. It builds and builds creating an imposing cinematic crest, but of course what goes up must eventually come down, and boy does it come crashing down.
However, despite this eventual third-act wave of spectacle and drama, most of The Surfer actually takes place away from the shoreline in the more secluded beach carpark. This choice keeps Finnegan’s film cleverly contained, allowing it to remain small enough so the audience feels the surfer’s inability to escape and the subsequent claustrophobia. While the creative utilisation of this relatively compact location – there’s a pop up coffee kiosk, a small toilet block and a payphone – ensures that The Surfer never feels restricted, physically or narratively.
This sandy setting becomes the surfer’s asylum and as you might expect, Cage’s descent into madness is equal parts convincing, affecting and entertaining. He really is the perfect casting for this type of role, and he sells every second of his performance. His transformation takes him from a high-flying business man intending to buy some prime beach real estate, to a scruffy beach bum unable to even afford a cup of coffee. It’s a compelling and unnerving downward spiral and one that allows screenwriter Thomas Martin to strike up a relevant conversation about modern expectations regarding work ethic and the ugly toxic masculintly that often comes alongside it.
With the help of Cage as his visual aid he skilfully explores this, further expanding his ideas with Julian McMahon’s character Scally, the selfish surfing gang’s charismatic cult-like leader. McMahon plays well opposite Cage, offering Scally’s take on what he thinks the 21st century man should look like, and what he should stand for. He brings a sly charm to the proceedings, one that’s always undercut with a more sinister smirk indicating his true, deeply unpleasant nature.
The pair’s dynamic is fascinating to watch, exposing their fragile masculinity and demonstrating just how little it can take for each of them – and any modern man for that matter – to be taken to breaking point. Although, The Surfer keenly observes that while riding the wave of life will certainly have its wipeouts, it’s usually the influences around us that drive us into that more dangerous surf in the first place. And with this cautionary tale framed by another of Cage’s fabulous frenzied freakouts, yeah, it’s Lorcan Finnegan’s finest work yet.
Star Rating: ★ ★ ★
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