The Surfer

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)

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.

Because of the trailer I expected an almost Liam Neeson style thriller of bad guys at the beach terrorizing a father and son as they bond over surfing.

This is a very different film than that.

This film is surreal, psychological, introspective, and a little bit funny. You know as much of the plot as you need to, and other reviews cover the details, but I'm here to tell you to not expect a typical action or thriller.

Above all, the cinematography shines. More than the plot, the experience of seeing and hearing this movie is so compelling that I recommend seeing this in theaters. Absolutely a well made film, technically speaking.

It does not hold your hand as you're left stranded on the beach with a delirious Nic Cage. I asked a lot of questions as events unfolded, feeling as sunbaked and dehydrated as an American in the Australian sun, but I enjoyed every second of it!

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.

The story unfolds with Cage arriving at a beach that holds great significance to him. However, when he's ridiculed and forbidden from surfing there with his son, it triggers a series of events that progressively detach from reality, leaving the audience to question even the reality we a witnessing.

One aspect I appreciate is the exploration of the sunken cost fallacy, the tendency to persist with an endeavor we've invested in, even if the current costs outweigh the benefits. Having recently faced a similar decision, I understand how challenging it is to step back and accept a loss.

Watching this in the GL Theatre with Cage and the rest of the crew was a very enjoyable experience.😄