The Endless Summer

Despite living in Southern California, surrounded by the surfer dude culture, I’d never managed to see this 1966 documentary until now. The film traces the story of two surfers – Mike Hynson and Robert August – as they chase the summer season around the world searching for the best waves. They start in Hawaii and California, where we the viewers are given a brief tutorial on the techniques and jargon of surfing, until the oceans start getting too cold. They travel off to the eastern coast of Africa, where they introduce surfing to the “natives” (characterized in 1966 in ways that would not be PC now). Eventually they make their way down to South Africa, riding waves on pristine secluded beaches that may never have been surfed before. They are sorely disappointed to find poor surf in Australia and New Zealand, only to surf in Tahiti where they were told the reefs prevented any true waves. Eventually, they make their way back to Hawaii, having seen the world through the lens of surf.

What I love most about this movie is the fact that, behind the haze of the surf culture, it is a true adventure story. The two surfers, although their motivation may have been superficial, take off on a quest of epic proportions. And just like any other odyssey, they face adversity in different forms along their way – from prohibitive gas prices to pushy locals to shark and knife-like coral – only to eventually return home. Although “The Endless Summer” may have lacked the deep mythology of a great quest story, the archetype is the same and strikes at the heart of any young person – the desire to leave home, see the strange and foreign places, face and overcome obstacles and danger, and to return home stronger.

Of course, because the protagonists are obviously overgrown adolescent American men in their heyday of the 1960s, they barely speak or seem capable of doing anything well except surfing. Credit for keeping this film interesting, then, must be given to the film make Bruce Brown who provided the frame for the story and the narration to add structure. Although at times the narration seems a bit corny, and clearly any non-surfing scenes are staged (sometimes with poorly made props added in), it is the narrator who provides simple, comprehensible context for these men riding the waves.

The director’s greatest success may have been his ability to capture the awe-inspiring beauty of the water. Depending on the mood of the scene, the director managed to capture the ocean itself displaying different moods, from the serenity of the isolation at Cape St. Francis in South Africa to the enraged wrath of The Wedge in Newport Beach, California. Despite what must have been relatively primitive film technology (although I wasn’t a film major, so don’t quote me on that), the director managed to clearly and steadily capture the agility of the surfers aplomb.

In the end, all I can say is: a classic!

Written and Directed by Bruce Brown