Three generations of shredding surf film makers!

Okay, first of all, What the hell? Bruce Brown smokes? I guess I was a bit naive about that because after last night’s (3/8/07) Mission Grill reception for three generations of surf filmmakers—Bruce, Dana, and Wes Brown—I expressed my “Bruce Brown smokes?” incredulity to New Times’ sales rep and hardcore surfer Lars Neshime, who exclaimed, “Have you ever seen his teeth?” Apparently not, Lars, but hells bells! The man spent a lifetime chronicling hardcore athletes! How could he … SMOKE!?! It’s bad for you!

Let this be a cautionary tale to you, young grommets! Don’t smoke or you may become an aging, highly revered surf filmmaker mobbed by fans demanding autographs at a tribute for you organized by an up and coming film festival. Shame, Bruce, SHAME! Nice job on the progeny, though.

Not only is Bruce the famed auteur behind the proto surf flick Endless Summer, but his genes have spread into two more generations of surf film raconteurs, who like their forebear, have woven narratives tales of the Sport of Kings. Dana’s film, Step into Liquid, chronicles the many forms surfing takes, from Midwestern Great Lakes wind chop surfers, to guys in Texas who follow around huge ships to surf their wake, to the shores of Ireland and Rapa Nui and other places we normally don’t think of as surfing meccas. The film screened to a less-than-full-but-still-appreciative house last night at the Fremont.

The youngest Brown, Wes, co-directed (with T.J. Barrack) last night’s second feature, Chasing Dora, which basically tells the story of a wild goose chase as three surfers—Robert Weaver, Marc Andreini, and Mickey Muñoz—go in search of the legendary and enigmatic (and possibly psychotic and criminal-minded) Mickey Dora, the famed “Cat of Malibu,” who in the ‘60s was the best surfer around but who eschewed and condemned surfing’s growing commercialism. Reputed to be living near J-Bay in South Africa, the three head off in a fruitless search for Dora.

These two films were preceded by the pre party for the Browns at Mission Grill, which was a real mob scene. From the moment Bruce was ushered into the patio, he was bombarded with requests for autographs on Endless Summer memorabilia. I haven’t seen that many aging surfers since that weekend I spend in rehab. All three generations of Browns also signed a custom surfboard that was raffled off at the screening. Out in front of both the grill and the theater were beautifully restored woody wagons. It was a real nostalgia fest. Local surf rock cover act The Dentures (like The Ventures, but they're all over 50 ... get it?) entertained the crowd. A fine time was had by all.

Alright, people. Don’t forget, there’s three days of films left, so check the festival web site at www.slofilmfest.org and hit some of these movies, and also keep in mind you can rub shoulders with some stars—or at least one—when James Cromwell is given the King Vidor Award on Saturday, March 10 at the Fremont, after which you’ll see a screening of L.A. Confidential, the 1997 crime and corruption flick that perfectly captures classic film noir. I’ll see you at the movies!