Surf Nazis Must Die

In 1987, Troma Studios released one of the worst films of all time, Surf Nazis Must Die. The plot, if that is what it can be called, is that California has suffered a massive earthquake, leaving the state in chaos. Groups of surfers fight for supremacy on post-apocalypse beaches which resemble industrial wastelands rather than anything close to oceanic paradise. One gang is known as "The Samurai Surfers," while another is "The Designer Wave." By far the most terrifying, though, is the Surf Nazis, a group led by Adolf, the “Fuhrer of the New Beach." Adolf takes uncompromising umbrage at anyone stupid enough to paddle out into breaks that the Surf Nazis have established as their own. As befits a Troma film, there are various random acts of violence and mayhem until, for no apparent reason, a black oil well worker named Leroy is killed by Adolf and his comrades while jogging on the beach. However, Leroy’s mother vows revenge, breaks out of her retirement home and arms herself with sufficient firepower to wreak her own apocalypse on the Surf Nazis.

Despite its sheer awfulness and relentless incoherency, I rather liked Surf Nazis Must Die when it came out. The music had an edge, there were some good surfing scenes, and given that I was a rather anarchic skater-type at the time lines like the demure Eva's “Slime-sucking Neanderthal! How dare you question my loyalty?!” had a certain appeal. I seem to recall an excellent scene in which Leroy's mother confronts Hook, a character played by Joel Hile, whose filmography appears to have been confined to that one heady year of 1987. Likewise, to my unreconstructed old self, the basic revenge motif of the film was captivating. Leroy's mother had good reason to vanquish the Surf Nazis, and vanquish them she did. Quite right, too, for, as the tagline put it, "The beaches have become battlefields, the waves are a war zone!" This, as even the most local surfer will surely agree, is not a good thing.

Or is it? I’ve been pondering Surf Nazis Must Die following one or two episodes of localism that, thus far in my life, I had rarely encountered. Yes, shortly after watching Surf Nazis Must Die I nearly came a cropper at Kirra, but that was a long, long time ago and these days my trusty mini-mal and I do our best to keep a low profile. Certainly, we don't surf when drunk anymore, and definitely not on the Gold Coast, and never after watching a Troma film. But anyway, while surfing at a homegrown spot that I dare not name for fear of nothing in particular, I was given a fair bit of grief just a few weeks ago.

My crime, it seems, was to have turned up, parked my car and paddled out. The line-up consisted of no more than 10 surfers and conditions were as good as that particular break gets. A case of mistaken identity ensued and some hassle came my way. I think someone thought that I was a refugee from Toxic Avenger or another Troma classic, for soon enough I had been informed of the error of my ways. Naturally I humbly apologised, for I am a believer in Adolf from Surf Nazis Must Die and wouldn't want anyone to think otherwise.

I returned to my car and mentioned to my wife that there had been a fellow Troma fan in the water, one with whom I had sadly not had a chance to bond. She reminded me that last summer, while surfing at Gwithian in Cornwall, I had wandered back to her and my children wearing a look of total astonishment, having witnessed a surfer of evidently even more slender ability than I castigating anyone and everyone who got in his way. Given that he had yet to master going along the wave, this led to a certain single-mindedness of abuse. I'd been a little disheartened but had put it behind me, but then there was the incident of a few weeks back and, since then, repeated recidivistic viewings of Surf Nazis Must Die.

Having watched the film again, and again, and then one more time because actually it's very profound and good, I feel myself slipping into a trance. Could it be that Troma did not make a ludicrous, self-consciously absurd slice of low budget trash but a measured analysis of surfing, a film that is an unhonoured prophet in its own "coming soon" DVD case? The trance deepens and eureka, illumination is mine.

I realise that surfing is not about being stoked. Surfing is actually about sitting, Canute-like, on one's own beach (be it metaphorical or real), and lamenting the arrival of The Other. The Other can take the form of anyone one doesn't recognise or even people that one does recognise, if one is feeling a little out of sorts. Indeed, the vilification of The Other need not be confined to one's own break (if such a thing exists, and, of course, we all know that it does) but can as readily occur at breaks to which one has travelled. For remember: the beaches have become battlefields, and the waves are a war zone.

To those who might say that it's sad that I no longer think surfing is about being stoked, I have this to say. Only a select few should be allowed to surf. Encouraging and enticing people into an activity that is either the best sport in the world, or the most exquisite way to live your life (it depends on your point of view), is a bad thing. For, like Canute, we can control the ocean, and with concerted moaning and griping we can put the genie back in the bottle. Then we’ll get our beaches back, they’ll become the sole preserve of an elite entitled hunt them as their quarry, and, once we’ve found what we want, we can build barbed wire fences in the marran grass and wear wetsuits with dayglo banners saying “I’m a local – keep out.” If people we don’t know turn up, we can be aggressive and unpleasant, for we will say “Be gone! Not in my back yard!” If we’re at a spot to which we’ve travelled, we’ll know the locals because they’ll be the ones wearing their locals-only wetsuits and together, with them, we can unite to defeat the massed hordes who have the temerity to go on a surfing holiday. We will say unto them: “Be gone! Not in my back yard!” And then, when we’re tired after a hard day’s policing the beaches, we can sit back and watch Surf Nazis Must Die. And we will say unto ourselves: “Adolf is such an inspirational character.”

But then I woke up. It was time to put the film in the bin, and never watch it again.

Comments

[Bagpipes]

Laughed so hard whilst reading this, almost choked to death on the digestive I was eating. Lovely job.

[Phil Sweeney]

Terrible film, great piece. Top work.

[Tom Whitwell]

Here's the trailer on YouTube

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oddI02rolY8