Above is a picture, and a link if you click on it, to the NY Times review of Mick Sowry's "The Reef" which played at the 92nd Street Y on February 18th.
I was one who stood and cheered and not just for the orchestra, but for the film itself. Both stunning adventures into the heretofore (to me) unknown.
In the case of the music: a serious live application of classical repertoire and skill to a surf film.
In the case of the film itself: a kind of magical peeling back of the often decrepit cliches that govern the genre.
Sowry's (and Jon Frank's) abstract, probing, and at times sublimely alienating imagery and editing, pushed and pulled my expectations (and thereby emotions) twisting me into a state of constant surprise.
In our conversation after the perfomance/projection, Mick called it a sort of endless surf painting I think -or something to that effect- rather than a surf film per se. And while I think it is an apt sort of shrugging (either humble or something more realistic), it doesn't quite do justice to the fact that this film has opened a new door to surf filmmaking.
All odd ends and interesting bits, forward glances and backward thrusts, The Reef somehow breaks down the form and resets the conversation to some disturbingly entrancing elements.
It is not a perfect film, but one that is indelibly an act of evolution. And an inspiring, tantalizing one at that.
3 comments:
Did Warren Pfeiffer on his surf mat make it into the version you guys saw?
It did.
He did.
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