Film Review - The Surfer
Images courtesy of Madman Entertainment.
Enough has been said about the sheer maniacal intensity of Nicolas Cage - the unrestrained, nouveau shamanic force seemingly always dancing on the edge of lunacy. But once again, Cage adds to his ever-expanding repertoire of frenzied cinematic delirium in The Surfer; a Lorcan Finnegan helmed sun-bleached descent into madness. But as is par for the course in most of Cage’s recent run of genre excursions; what begins as a deceptively simple revenge narrative slowly unravels into a full-blown fever dream of psychological anguish. Surf’s up, baby.
At surface level, it would be easy to dismiss the film’s premise as simplistic, even superficial. Cage’s eponymous unnamed surfer returns to his childhood beach in the fictional Western Australian hamlet of Luna Bay, only to find himself shunned by the locals and targeted by a brutishly territorial surf gang who claim ownership of the coastline. What follows isn’t just a tale of retribution but an almost psychedelic meditation on ego, hyper-masculinity, and mental fracture. It rarely gives us easy answers, and by the time it has climaxed into its feverish crescendo, you cannot discern what’s real and what’s imagined.
What’s most striking about The Surfer is how it wholly embraces its protagonist’s psychological unravelling. To say that the narrative is destabilising is an understatement, to say the least, as you are left completely unsure as to what is real and what is filtered through the surfer’s rapidly deteriorating psyche as he wanders the mangrove-infested landscape and reluctantly finds sanctum in a dilapidated Subaru. As is often the case in the Cageissance era, Nic Cage is truly magnetic. Like many of his recent psychedelic cinematic ventures (Mandy, Color Out of Space, Longlegs), Cage’s characterisation is one which mimics a force of nature – stoic, damaged, volatile. By oscillating between moments of quiet introspection and explosive rage, The Surfer wisely lingers within the deteriorating psyche of the eponymous surfer. Every interaction he has with the locals – be they casual, threatening, or downright hallucinatory – forces you to question: is this all really happening? Or is this the heat-stroke induced vision of a man who has completely lost control?
Cage-worship aside, it’s important to recognise other featured players. Julian McMahon delivers a standout turn as the film’s antagonist, crafting a character who channels equal parts charisma, menace, and alpha-male bravado. Yet it’s the controlled precision of his presence that unsettles one the most – like a Zen master with a mean streak, almost as if Patrick Swayze’s turn as Bodhi masked the deep seated hyper-masculine outlook of Andrew Tate. Meanwhile, Nicholas Cassim is quietly brilliant as a sunburnt drifter shadowing Cage’s descent. His peculiar aloofness effortlessly belies a deeper understanding of the madness taking hold; whereby acting as both guide and mirror, Cassim subtly reflects the psychological collapse to come.
But ultimately, The Surfer’s greatest strength lies in the sheer weaponisation of its setting. Luna Bay isn’t just a sepia backdrop; it’s an oppressively sunbaked purgatory, a coastal haven whose beauty masks psychotic malice. From a technical standpoint, the sienna-hued cinematography brilliantly encapsulates the relentlessly deceptive beauty of the Australian coast. The atmospheric palpability bears much of the storytelling weight, where every wide shot seems to whisper ominous warnings, transforming the beachside serenity into something both mythic, malignant, and ultimately antagonistic.
The Surfer’s dysphoric madness is purposeful, its structure disorienting, and its central performance unapologetically feral. But for those willing to paddle out into deeper, more turbulent waters, it truly stands as a mesmerising devolution into psychedelic bedlam. Wait, I just thought of a better title: Point Break in Fright. Good joke. Everybody laugh. Roll on snare drum. Curtains. Great, now the madness has consumed me too.
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The Surfer is screening in cinemas from now. For tickets and more info, click here.