A Nicolas Cage movie at this point in his career can go wildly in any direction. The unpredictable nature of the roles he chooses still manages to cement Cage as one of the few must-see performers of our time. In Aussie-driven The Surfer, Cage comes in somewhere around a 5.5 or 6 out of 10 on his usual craziness scale. Joining him onscreen is Nip/Tuck megastar Julian McMahon, who quite frankly does not get enough unique parts to sink his teeth into. At the very least, this duo remains interesting to watch interact even when the script fails them in its baffling strangeness. Offering up rougher conditions than expected, The Surfer tries to keep afloat off vibes alone, eventually succumbing to tonal shifts and unsatisfying character development.
The Surfer (Cage), who remains unnamed for the entire runtime, brings his son to the beach of his childhood hoping to catch some waves. As for the inciting incident, it can be boiled down to a frustratingly simple concept. The locals do not care for outsiders, and go out of their way to make the Surfer’s live a living hell if he refuses to leave. Rinse and repeat, from beginning to end. Leading the pack is the seemingly sinister Scully (McMahon), who pops in with strange words of wisdom. The townspeople all appear to have wonky ulterior motives—as the scenario goes increasingly more nonsensical, they gaslight the Surfer into homelessness.
Yes, without much rhyme or reason, the Surfer hops from one bad situation to the next, his identity vanishing along with it. First, his car disappears, and they make him believe he never had one in the first place. His phone goes dead, then missing, and a watch from his grandfather gets taken and repurposed on a barista’s wrist. As it plays out, The Surfer becomes altogether infuriating to watch. Less a movie than a series of vaguely connected incidents and sunburnt beachy atmosphere, it becomes difficult to pinpoint the general vibe they were going for here. Is this a commentary on toxic masculinity, on homelessness, on identity itself? The ending attempts to answer a couple of these questions, yet ultimately fails to deliver material worthy of either its core actors or the time spent becoming lost in The Surfer‘s dreamlike oddities.
For Cage’s part, his take on the Surfer does a good job of keeping us in his headspace. If only there were more from the page for the blankness of the character to develop. Those longing for an explosive moment of realization or to see Cage fight back against the unfortunate circumstances overtaking him may be waiting a very long time. Even the musical score confuses, failing to adequately immerse us into the exact tone. Should we be laughing? Beau is Afraid attempted some of the manic qualities here on a much larger scale, and in true Ari Aster masterstrokes of brilliance. By comparison, The Surfer gives us a threadbare beachside setting with a whole lot of pretty, and virtually nothing else.
Join The Surfer for a meanderingly bizarre drift across the waves, in theaters nationwide on Friday, May 2nd.
