Dogtown and Z-Boys

Director: Stacy Peralta
Year: 2001

For those who think art is at its best when it’s subversive, skateboarding pioneer Stacy Peralta has a film for you. The very idea of skateboarding and art being intertwined rubs some people the wrong way. Since its beginnings, skateboarding has been looked at derisively by a number mainstream critics, calling it anything from a passing fad, equitable to the yo-yo, at best, to criminal and gang-like, at worst.

The beauty of what Peralta presents is, even as a founder of the massively popular culture it has grown into today, he doesn’t run from any of the criticism. Skateboarding was niche in the 1960’s. It did die, as fads do. It was criminal and violent in the 70’s. And in that soup, against an urban cultural backdrop with some extremely colorful characters, the Z-Boys were born in the heart of Dogtown.

Dogtown is the nickname for the south of Santa Monica to lower Marina del Rey area. To understand it today, it’s best to just call it Venice, even if it stretches beyond that area proper. Beachfront property, particularly in the epicenter that is Los Angeles, is some of the most valuable territory in the world. As Peralta shows us, Venice was seen as such by its most popularly credited founder, Abbot Kinney. Venice was a seaside Shangri La for a time, the west coast Coney Island before the tidal wave of world events in the mid-60’s wiped it…well, not exactly clean. In fact, Venice was wiped filthy.

The localism and pride those that lived in the area felt was personified in their defense of the waves that broke near the jagged Ocean Park Pier that jutted like war pikes from the surf. But waves are finicky beasts. And what are those who have nothing but time to do with their remaining asphalt jungle? Create, become and usher in a new lifestyle and form of expression to the world.

Paul Crowder’s editing deserves a particular nod for his inventiveness and ability to stylistically co-op skating’s vibe. The rough edits, the speeding and slowing of the clips, sometimes right through lines of dialogue, fit the frenetic style of the colorful characters. Criticism, like Roger Ebert’s, about the film’s insular style (“you either love us or you suck”, in essence) is valid. As someone who does love what he sees in the generous portions of original footage - I was in awe of the skaters I knew when I was growing up for their ability to veritably float rather than walk or run, but I never was bold enough to ride – I admit my bias. But ego, as is most heavily attached to Tony Alva, is part of greatness almost everywhere it appears. How much and how it’s manifested are good subjects for discussion, but not disqualifiers for legitimacy.