by Rebecca Ayres (airs)

We all have stories of the glories of our past – that one time when you caught fat air off 8 foot chop in a hurricane, when you successfully back-flipped into the pool, or you finally mastered a bicycle kick that took your football team to the finals. When we tell them they aren't necessarily true or false but at least they're ours – and, they make us look damn good.

Stacy Peralta has his story. A member of the infamous Zephyr skateboarding team which revolutionized the sport in the 1970's with a fearless style that grew out of the “locals only” attitude of Venice Beach surfers, Peralta traveled the world for his skating and today is a legend for the legends along with his fellow team members. These are the guys and gals that Tony Hawk and Bob Burnquist look up to. Thanks to his talent, Peralta had opportunities many of us will never experience, including the chance to tell his story to the world in the award-winning documentary “Dogtown and Z-Boys.” Now, he tells his story again in “Lords of Dogtown,” only this time with pretty faces instead of stock photos by Craig Stecyk and Glen E. Friedman, a cheesy 70's soundtrack instead of the skid of tires and ham-handed one-liners instead of the “get-big-or-die-trying” reality that was Dogtown.

“Lords of Dogtown” begs the question: what is real? What are we supposed to believe when documentaries become drama, history is selectively remembered and simple kids from a crummy neighborhood with big dreams and a bit of balance become lords? Dogtown and the story of the Z-Boys was real. Why did Peralta find it necessary to pimp out the rights to a compelling story he had already told so eloquently in his own words and with the cooperation of the original team? For a bit of beer money? For the down payment on his Malibu mansion?

The fault doesn't merely lie at Peralta's feet. The new film, while being a playful romp through the past, is nothing more nor less than another piece of summer flotsam for the masses. I find it hard to swallow the banality Catherine Hardwicke (director of “Thirteen”) serves up, especially in light of the reality that lies behind it. It's not necessarily a bad movie but it is, in fact, just that – a movie. While we may be seasoned moviegoers, are we really the slack-jawed plebes Hollywood expects? Does Hardwicke truly believe that we simply could not enjoy a good story without it being fetishized into crap a la Jerry Bruckheimer? For what it's worth, the truth is still there underneath all the Tinseltown flash, glamour and Heath Ledger. I wonder if Peralta's proud of what his story's become (and I secretly hope he gets his ass kicked).

Average user rating

   (0 vote)