I have this movie on DVD and must have watched it thirty times by now. I must really love it, right? Well, not really.
I was a surfer earlier in my life, and I loved the sport. To this day, I am fascinated by good surfing. Riding Giants has plenty of that, and thus I am a sucker for the thing. But I definitely have some bones to pick with it. (Peralta, you listening?).
First, the movie has too little faith in its subject matter. The cutting and editing of the waves is such that the majority of them are sort of ruined. Very, very few waves are actually shown ridden from start to finish. Peralta seems addicted to a hyper kinetic, cut-and-pace method. It gets especially bad in the middle section on the spot Mavericks in Northern California. Not a single wave is ridden start to finish. Almost the entire section on Mavericks (one third of the movie) is a jarring montage of clips with an equally jarring soundtrack. I can understand the effect Peralta was trying to achieve with Mavericks, as the place is a truly frightening mix of bone crushing waves in frigid open ocean chop, but he goes way too far. Mavericks is not just a bad acid trip. Waves are actually ridden there, even with great performances. It would have been good to see some of them. If Peralta thinks this is a grand sport (and I am sure he does), then why does he insist on messing with the subject matter so much? At times, the editing reduces the movie to the inscrutable. There is one fast clip in the section on Peahi in Hawaii, which I still cannot understand. Even if I run it on slow motion on DVD, the image is too fast to be decipherable. It must be a couple of frames in length at the max.
Second, have the guys who made this thing ever learned about understatement? It is particularly galling to watch the narrated directors' version on DVD. These guys sound like two over-the-top valley girls. The same sentiment shows up in the main production. Every thing is always so goddamn "amazing" etc. One character in particular is just plain obnoxious -- Sam George, the editor of Surfer Magazine, who is practically peeing in his pants every time he has anything to say. He is a super drag on the movie.
There is a tremendous amount of effort that went into this movie. I mean, just to get the old movie shots they have, and also, all of the interviews. The movie is a great story, and I think it is generally captivating entertainment. Thematically it is well laid out, with the three parts centering around Greg Noll, Jeff Clark, and Laird Hamilton respectively. There are some uses of still photography that are phenomenal. In the directors' narration, they say it is a new type of 3D technology, and it really works. The three principle characters shine, both in their interviews and in the water. As an athlete, Laird Hamilton is a revelation. He rises to the pinnacle of his sport in a way that I have only seen Michael Jordan do in basketball. And too, the story of his meeting his father is a gem. It really touched me.
It is just that the movie could have been so much more. The very last part of the movie, when the credits roll, gives a hint of what it could have been. There are some beautiful panoramic shots of waves with a magnificent soundtrack. (The soundtrack in the rest of the movie is rubbish, though you may like it if you are fan of the modern, frenetic school of rock.) Anyway there's my two cents...

What if Somerset Maugham had written a novel about a coal miner who decided to search for transcendental enlightenment by trying to join a country club? If he had, he could have called it The Razor's Edge, since the Katha-Upanishad tells us, "The sharp edge of a razor is difficult to pass over; thus the wise say the path to Salvation is hard." But Maugham decided to stick with the well-bred class, and so we have Darryl F. Zanuck's version of Larry Darrell, recently returned from WWI, carefully groomed, well connected in society and determined to find himself by becoming a coal miner.
Or, as Maugham tells us, "This is the young man of whom I write. He is not famous. It may be that when at last his life comes to an end he will leave no more trace of his sojourn on this earth than a stone thrown into a river leaves on the surface of the water. Yet it may be that the way of life he has chosen for himself may have an ever growing influence over his fellow men, so that, long after his death, perhaps, it will be realized that lived in this age a very remarkable creature."
The Razor's Edge has all of Zanuck's cultural taste that money could buy. It's so earnest, so sincere...so self-important. As Larry goes about his search for wisdom, working in mines, on merchant ships, climbing a Himalayan mountain to learn from an ancient wise man, we have his selfish girl friend, Isabel, played by Gene Tierney, his tragic childhood chum played by Anne Baxter, the girlfriend's snobbish and impeccably clad uncle played by Clifton Webb, and Willie Maugham himself, played by Herbert Marshall, taking notes. The movie is so insufferably smug about goodness that the only thing that perks it up a bit is Clifton Webb as Elliot Templeton. "If I live to be a hundred I shall never understand how any young man can come to Paris without evening clothes." Webb has some good lines, but we wind up appreciating Clifton Webb, not Elliot Templeton.
Zanuck wanted a prestige hit for Twentieth Century when he bought the rights to Maugham's novel. He waited a year until Tyrone Power was released from military service. He made sure there were well-dressed extras by the dozens, a score that sounds as if it were meant for a cathedral and he even wrote some of the scenes himself. The effort is as self-conscious as a fat man wearing a rented tux. Despite Hollywood's view of things in The Razor's Edge, I can tell you that for most people hard work doesn't bring enlightenment, just weariness and low pay.
After nearly two-and-a-half hours, we last see Larry carrying his duffle bag on board a tramp steamer in a gale. He's going to work his way back to America from Europe with a contented smile on his face. "My dear," Somerset Maugham says to Isabel at the same time in an elaborately decorated parlor, "Larry has found what we all want and what very few of us ever get. I don't think anyone can fail to be better, and nobler, kinder for knowing him. You see, my dear, goodness is after all the greatest force in the world...and he's got it!" Larry and the audience both need a healthy dose of Dramamine.
Maugham, lest we forget, was a fine writer of plays, novels, essays and short stories. To see how the movies could do him justice, watch the way some of his short stories were brought to the screen in Encore, Trio and Quartet. And instead of wasting time with Larry Darrell, spend some time with Lawrence Durrell. The Alexandria Quartet is a good read.