The “definitive voice of surfing” goes attack mode.
There are few things as reliable, on this ever-changing earth, than The Inertia gettin’ goofy. Founded in 2010 by Virginia Beach local Zach Weisberg who “was inspired to launch what would become the template for the vulnerable adult learner tsunami following a talk by the Huff Post’s Arianna Huffington in 2010,” the “definitive voice of surf and the outdoors” has risen to the very peak of unintentional parody.
The Inertia’s editorial voice, described as paternalism mixed with dismissiveness ladled with passive-aggression and served warm with the emotional seasoning of a college campus safe space genre, is employed to accidentally clown all manner of surf-adjacent business, from beach wagons to the correct pronunciation of Teahupo’o, was, yesterday, formed into a weapon and used to injure the beloved actress Jennifer Lawrence.
You will certainly recall the Academy Award winner from star turns in Silver Linings Playbook, The Hunger Games and American Hustle to name but a very few. Her new picture, No Hard Feelings, is set in the seaside town of Montauk and follows Maddie, played by Lawrence, who “on the brink of losing her home, finds an intriguing job listing: helicopter parents looking for someone to bring their introverted 19-year-old son out of his shell before college. She has one summer to make him a man or die trying.”
The Inertia, anyhow, lights right in, savaging the film for its inaccurate portrayal of the surf lifestyle.
Surfers and surfboards are placed strategically from scene to scene. Brand new, unwaxed, leashless shortboards are shown stored in the bright sunlight in a board rack on the front lawn of Maddie’s house. Does Maddie surf? She never talks about surfing, drives a sedan without board racks, and beelines it to a flat beach when she takes Percy (her love interest) to the ocean.
Even worse, one of the main characters, Jim, is supposed to be a surfer, played by believably surfy-looking Scott MacArthur. Points given that he drives a van, but points redacted for there being nothing in the van. No wax, no leashes, no wetsuits, no tubs to soak booties… nothing.
The piece is titled Why Can’t Hollywood Get Surfing Right?” which echoes surf Buddha, and The Inertia contributor, Sam George’s declarative film Hollywood Don’t Surf.
Back to the issues at hand. Are sedans with board racks and vans with bootie-soaking tubs what truly marks a surfer?
What about a really kitted out beach wagon?
What does “surfer” look like to you?
