The Surfer

Greetings again from the darkness. There are a few actors who regularly take on roles that leave us hoping they are nothing like those characters in real life. Willem Dafoe comes to mind, but the president of that club would be Nicolas Cage. Over the last 18 years or so, no actor has more often regaled us with emotional and mental unraveling on screen. Keep in mind it's been thirty years since he won his Oscar for LEAVING LAS VEGAS.

This time, it's the second feature film from Lorcan Finnegan (VIVARIUM, 2018) that finds Cage's titular character on a downward spiral. The script comes from Thomas Martin, and opens with a father (Cage) driving along the Australian coastline, preaching surfer philosophy to his son (Finn Little, THOSE WHO WISH ME DEAD, 2021), who's a bit miffed that he got dragged from school to hear the lecture. It turns out dad wants to spend the day surfing with his son so he can show him the house he's purchasing. It's the cliffside family home once owned by his grandfather.

It all sounds lovely until two things happen. The real estate deal is in jeopardy because Cage has been outbid, requiring him to raise an extra hundred grand fast. More dramatically, when the father and son hike down to the beach carrying their surfboards, they are accosted by locals who live by the mantra, "Don't live here. Don't surf here.". Cage explains that he used to live there, is buying a house there, and just wants to surf with his son. The group of 'Bay Boys' threatens to get physical, sending father and son back up the hill.

These bullies have created a 'localized' culture at Luna Bay through inspiration served up by their cult-like leader, Scotty "Scally" Callahan (Julian McMahon, "Nip/Tuck"), a former classmate of Cage's character. Now most reasonable folks would just pack up and leave, but this is a man on the edge. His divorce is pending, his relationship with his son is shaky, his boss is pressuring him to finish a project, and his dream real estate deal is crumbling. Cage is a frazzled middle-aged man, and we are about to witness things get much worse for him.

The patented Nic Cage downward spiral involves a local homeless man (Nicolas Cassim), a public restroom, a kiosk, and frequent run-ins with the 'gang' of local surfers. Even the local cop (Justin Rozniak) tries to encourage Cage to give it up and head out. However, the inner demons of a man who has worked hard for a specific goal that is now within grasp - or maybe just out of reach - begin to take over. This may seem like the beginning of a breakdown for Cage's character, but the truth is that it began long before.

Is this psychological, psychotic, or psychedelic? We are never quite sure, especially as the sun beats down on Cage and he has flashes of childhood trauma ... a precursor to where this is all headed. Are these nightmares or hallucinations? It plays out kind of slowly, but we do enjoy the stylish approach of director Finnegan and cinematographer Radek Ladczuk (THE BABADOOK, 2014), whose visuals juggle the blistering glare of the sun, sweat and stains on Cage, and the stunningly beautiful blue ocean. Additionally, it's Australia, so you know there will be a snake, as well as other critters like bugs, birds, a rat, a porcupine, and dogs. As Cage's material status possessions are stripped away (phone, watch, car, clothes), it is all accompanied by composer Francois Tetaz's music that can be described as hypnotic or ethereal. There is an ending that many might take issue with, but after so many times thinking "Just leave, dude", I was willing to take whatever happened. How long until a theater runs an entire festival of Nic Cage Midnight Movies?

Opens in theaters on May 2, 2025.

Saw this Friday night with my wife, and it has since been marinating in the back of my mind. I generally view this to be the mark of a good film. When I find myself several days later still pondering the story, the performances, the cinematography, and the overall message of what I watched it is inarguable that the finished movie turned out to be greater than the sum of its parts.

Come for Nick Cage (if you're a fan) but don't be disappointed by his more subdued turn. This is not the fully unhinged Nick we saw turned loose in Mandy, Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans, or Wild at Heart. This is a more nuanced descent into his patented insanity. It's a 30 year old scotch that will lingers on your palate instead of a tart and briny ale that is all but forgotten by the time you set the bottle down. At various times you'll find yourself asking what's real and what may be hallucination as his character suffers to prove his worthiness.

And that gorgeous slice of coast is a character in its own right as the coveted azure blue waves languidly rolling in to the pristine locals only beach under the brutal and unrelenting Australian sun that turns everything into a hazy mirage. Just steps off the beach waits the real world that the group viciously keeps at bay, dead rats, used crack pipes and condoms, the detritus and garbage swept clean of their little protected turf but there all along. Cage and 'the bum' are the human trash that Julian McMahon's alpha male guru cult leader cannot allow to threaten this little paradise.

You may wonder in the final moments what was real and what was imagined, and find yourself wondering what interpretation was intended for the viewer. Was Cage the bum all along? How much of what Nick's unnamed Surfer experienced was literal, and how much was the feverish working of a broken man's mind grasping unsuccessfully at the past? Director Lorcan Finnegan asks of you: what would you suffer to share your greatest joy and family history with your son, and what would you suffer if your son was lost to you?

Watching Nicolas Cage spiral into madness has become something of a cinematic ritual-equal parts thrilling and unnerving.

In "The Surfer," directed by Lorcan Finnegan (Vivarium, Nocebo), that descent reaches new, sun-scorched depths. Cage's performance is as unhinged as it is calculated, delivering the kind of mesmerizing chaos only he can pull off.

But the question lingers: is it entertainment, or is it a warning?

After his sinister turn in "Longlegs," Cage reemerges here as a man simply trying to surf-only to be swallowed by a surreal psychological vortex on a seemingly idyllic Australian beach.

His protagonist, a nameless Surfer, returns to the coast of his youth, hoping to reclaim something pure, maybe even sacred. Instead, he runs afoul of a bizarrely authoritarian group of beach bullies led by the menacing Scally (played with eerie charisma by Julian McMahon).

What follows is not just confrontation-it's ritualistic humiliation and mental disintegration.

Finnegan constructs a sadistic fever dream where the beach becomes a battleground for the soul.

The parking lot-a space so ordinary-mutates into a nightmarish cage. Days blur into one another as the Surfer is stripped of every material attachment: his car, his phone, his designer watch, even his surfboard.

Starving, dehydrated, dirtied, and alone, he's forced to reckon with what he needs versus what he wants.

At its core, "The Surfer" is a grotesque satire of community and masculinity, where the desire to belong becomes a gateway to destruction.

It's a violent allegory for modern identity crises-particularly male identity in an age where digital connection often replaces genuine human bonds. The film flirts with primal themes: dominance, submission, survival, and the illusion of control.

It's almost comically extreme at times, but the humor is bitter, absurd, and often laced with horror.

Finnegan's Australia is vast and unforgiving-a place where the sea offers both escape and punishment. The landscape itself seems to mock the protagonist, serving as a mirror to his fractured ego.

The beach, once a symbol of freedom and youth, becomes a metaphysical arena for transformation. Women are notably absent, or at best peripheral, making the film's world a testosterone-fueled echo chamber that both critiques and indulges in its themes.

"The Surfer"'s journey isn't just physical-it's spiritual. He devolves, then transforms.

The brutal initiation into Scally's tribal gang might represent a search for meaning, a surrender to something primal in an over-sanitized, disconnected world. "You must suffer to surf," he proclaims-a mantra that suggests transcendence through pain. But the price is steep, and the reward ambiguous.

By the film's end, "the Surfer" has been stripped bare-of status, ego, and self-deception. What remains is either a reborn man or a hollow shell.

In interviews, Finnegan has described the film as an exploration of "masculinity in crisis," emphasizing how men can be manipulated into degrading rituals in pursuit of validation and belonging.

"The Surfer" doesn't just chronicle ego death-it explores the seductive, often terrifying power of group identity and the primal longing to be part of something greater.

Visually striking and psychologically punishing, "The Surfer" isn't a movie for all or most tastes. It demands patience and interpretive effort from its audience, but it rewards those willing to ride its chaotic wave.

Finnegan delivers a nightmare worth enduring-one that sticks to the skin like sand and saltwater long after the credits roll.

The role of suffering produces the best performances in Cage. Et voilà. A highly anticipated film, one that looked like 'A man sees red'. But things turn out differently. Hot becomes sweaty, becomes a fever dream, pulls you into a maelstrom of emotions, humiliation and suffering. At some point, you no longer know who and what you are following, and so you descend further and further, downwards in the maelstrom of this strange descent. The next surprise comes at the bottom. Whether you would have liked Charles Bronson better is up to you to decide, but if you're looking for a deeper swell, this is definitely the film for you. Contrary to expectations, this overdose of toxic masculinity has a cleansing effect on the self-destructive film landscape, great performance by Julian McMahon, this courage to go off the beaten track no less. The viewer is probably left baffled, but definitely confused and with plenty of room for interpretation. Yes, there was a time when films were still thought-provoking.

That's the same headline I used for Longlegs. I continue to root for Cage and his resurgence over the past few years. I'm glad he's getting roles in theatrical movies. And I will still watch basically anything he's in.

The Surfer is a generally well-made movie and a stark contrast to the straight-to-streaming garbage he was busting out for a while. It has a simple premise that continues to evolve, with a decent amount of intrigue.

Overall, I wasn't a huge fan of this movie. It's a little too artistic and metaphorical for my liking. And I left the cinema a bit unsatisfied.

At least I had the pleasure of witnessing another memorable Cage performance.

(1 viewing, early screening Mystery Movie Monday 4/21/2025)