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I love skateboarding. If I do say so myself, I’ve become
quite good at the sport, mastering the vertical and street
courses alike. A braggart, I’m not, but I’d be willing to
bet that if I were to go up against some of the best amateurs
in the world, I’d leave with a medal or two. Now, understand
that when I speak of my prowess on four wheels, I’m referring
to my skill at Playstation 2’s seminal classic, Tony Hawk
3: Pro Skateboarder. Man, at that game, I am a tower of dominance.
Should I ever be placed on a real skateboard and asked
to do actual tricks and whatnot, well… let’s just say
the paramedics would be earning their pay that week. However,
despite the fact that I have the natural grace and balance
of a dumptruck, I am absolutely enamored of the sport, no
the art, of skateboarding. It’s fitting then, that
I should find myself in a theater watching Dogtown And
Z-Boys, a new documentary from skate legend Stacy Peralta
about the early days of skateboarding.
The scene is the 1970s in a place called Dogtown, which is
really a section of beach along the California coast. A group
of misfit teenagers banded together and, with a few mentors,
formed the Zephyr Surfing group, founded by surfboard makers
Jeff Ho and Skip Engblom. While surfing was
the origin of the group, they soon turned to skateboarding,
not out of love for the sport, but simply to have something
to do between waves. Using their surfing knowledge and skills
(admirably good for them at such a young age) they pretty
much abandoned all traditional rules of skating and invented
their own style. In 1975, the world was introduced to the
Z-Boys (as they called themselves) at the Del Mar Nationals,
sponsored by Bahne Skateboards. They took everyone by surprise
by winning several of the competitions. It was only a few
steps before they became cult figures, as famous in the world
of skateboarding as Michael Jordan is in basketball.
A lot of their fame is due to one man, a young photojournalist
named Craig Stecyk, who documented their exploits for
Skateboarder magazine. Fortunately for us, Stecyk had
the presence of mind to videotape much of their practices
and their lives, leaving a remarkable record of the rise of
the Z-Boys skate team.
What makes this movie such a treat to watch has really nothing
to do with the content. You could show me badly scratched,
out-of-focus prints of people skateboarding and I’d be at
least mildly interested. No, the thing that makes Dogtown
And Z-Boys so much better than your average skate video
is the sure, quirky direction from Peralta. Peralta, who has
the distinction of not only being one of the star members
of the Z-Boys squad, but of also discovering current Skate
God Tony Hawk, is an amazingly evocative documentarian.
The style he uses could be called an aping of the MTV flashy
editing school, but really it’s so much fresher than that.
Rare it is that I walk away from a movie noting fondly the
editing and sound mixing, but what lies within this movie
is truly a marvel. Using handheld digital, old 16 mm, and
a variety of other stocks, Peralta weaves together a tapestry
of enthralling interviews cut with breathtaking skateboarding
footage that really must be seen by a wider audience than
it will get. In a genre that’s so often lacking of fun and
excitement, Dogtown And Z-Boys is a breath of icy cool
air, refreshing all of us with its style, excitement, and
true, undying love for the sport.
—Clinton Davis
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