When I was a kid, my parents bought me a skateboard. I can’t remember the age, but I do remember that it was around the time that Tony Hawk was at his peak and that the X-Games would just be on. I had no idea who half those people were nor did I actually understand what made a great routine. I just watched and thought that it was cool to watch these men flying in the air with such a confidence that I never had. If I ever went down a ramp, I would likely face-plant and spiral until my body reshaped itself.
I don’t know that I ever got above 5 mph on a skateboard, but I do love pretending to be with it. I would play Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater 2 and mash buttons until something like a kick-flip happened. Once I did, I would try and study the foot motion, as if I could actually convince myself to do it. I was always too scared of getting hurt. Now that I’m 30 with annual bouts of sciatica, I couldn’t imagine what would happen if I had the board slide out from under me, sending me onto my back. I’d probably survive, but the very idea of back pain for even a few hours turns me off.
That may be why I admire skateboarders who actually have any idea of what they’re doing. I don’t watch it regularly, but when I see it out in the world I am impressed by those who land a trick. I have seen more people fail, and I love watching them have the heart to try again. This isn’t like basketball where you can do it with minimal risk. Skateboards are a fickle mistress and one that has gotten quite the resurgence in recent years.
On one hand, I understand why. Those who were teenagers in the 1990s and early 2000s when it was at the height of its powers are now adults who have graduated from film school and get to tell the narratives that they want. They have worked their way through the industry and have finally been given a blank check. What do you want to do? You can do anything within financial means.
Well, for directors Crystal Moselle, Bing Liu, and Jonah Hill that involved telling these stories about teenagers growing up with troubled families and finding this joyful escapism in the world of going out and skateboarding, doing everything to evade the law while not letting a bruise keep you from trying again. In that way, I like to imagine what would’ve happened if I actually stuck with skateboarding. I doubt that I would be pro and probably wouldn’t be as into basketball as I am, but it would totally change my friend group and probably given me some permanent injuries that I could laugh about to my grandchildren.
Then again, I’m not a thrill-seeker and mostly take cinema for its form of escapism. It allows me to enter worlds that I would never think to enter, and there’s something wonderful about these nostalgic films that find our formative years spent out on the street, railing in front of city hall as a rent-a-cop blows his whistle at you. There is something fun about being young and dumb, thinking that you could get away with everything. Oh, to be that foolish. It’s a wonderful time, and it’s the feeling I get watching these three films.
The funniest part of everything was that 2018 was the year of the skateboard. Moselle, Liu, and Hill all took turns releasing films that gave them their own stamp on the sport. I still remember being in a theater watching The Miseducation of Cameron Post (2018) and seeing an ad for Skate Kitchen (2018) for the first time. I remember Nina Moran yelling “skate or die, bitch” at one point as they roamed around a skate park, the enthusiastic pull quotes spiraling around. Considering that I was already seeing an indie movie, the idea of seeing trailers for indie movies I never heard of felt like it came with admission.
The one thing that I couldn’t shake was that it felt like an “other.” I hadn’t seen the Mid90s (2018) trailer too many times, so I thought it was just an extension of that first one. Even then, it felt… different. I think by the end I even had the confused thought of why there was yet another skateboarding movie coming out this Fall season. I hadn’t even heard of Minding the Gap (2018) yet, or my head would’ve exploded.
It felt strange because on the surface they were all the same movie. The checklist included a decent mix of similarities: skate parks, outcasts, troubled family lives, “banging” soundtracks, unknown actors, urban settings. These were coming of age stories that were being clearly made by people who had grown up in the skateboard community. They all brought details that made every penny of their shoestring budget feel resourceful. Most of all, it was a chance to watch people skateboarding within the world of dramatic narratives.
I suppose if I was looking forward to any of them, it was Mid90s. So many pieces were in place for it to be the best. Jonah Hill had gotten advisement from Martin Scorsese, the score was by Trent Reznor & Atticus Ross, and Katherine Waterston was in the mix. Add in that the trailer is one of A24’s best works, and you will be surprised to know that it ended up being my least favorite of the group.
I don’t blame Hill for wanting to make his directorial debut as perfect as possible. He had spent decades in the industry and wanted to use his resources properly. However, I think it came at a cost. Even if every detail was personal, I join the criticism that says that the film was too tailored, where the soundtrack was too perfect and the cinematography too clean. For a story meant to be gritty, it sure felt like one of those films of an outsider looking in. The only thing that gave Hill an edge is that he was shameless in reflecting dialogue appropriate to the time (so yes, prepare for a lot of gay slurs).
The story was fine, but as someone who grew up watching indie films where people wandered around the house and contemplating life, it felt a bit too obvious. Yes, the skateboarding technique is some of the sharpest, but it’s the closest that this gets to reflecting a boy’s club mentality, where they act in ways that may be frowned upon nowadays. It may be to service the authenticity of the era, but again everything feels purposely placed that you become distracted by how it feels like Hill is behind the camera with a checklist, making sure we got that shout-out to Blockbuster.
The better version of this came with Bing Liu’s Minding the Gap, which has the added benefit of being a documentary. While the other narratives pull from memories, this exists solely as a way of exploring how Liu and his friends grew up. While every other story has some story of dysfunctional families and using skateboarding to form a new family, this is one of those kids growing up and trying not to relive the mistakes of their parents. Why would they pass on the abuse to a new generation?
It’s a beautiful and essential documentary that finds the essence of why people skateboard in the first place coming to the surface. While it’s fun to get that archival footage that finds them having fun, this is as much a story of the years passing and growing up, becoming the adults who are now responsible and need to contribute to society. They’re no longer outcasts, though it’s still bittersweet to see them forming their own paths. When one becomes a father, he spends less time skateboarding, and you’re both proud of him becoming a father who may break the curse, but also the absence of friendship definitely is something we all relate to. Having friends with shared interests is something you can’t replicate as you grow older. You have to make tough decisions.
It joins films like Boyhood (2014) that serve equally as stories of a moment as they are the passage of time. You don’t notice it passing until it is long gone. Liu adds so much self-reflection that it becomes something beautiful. While these three films capture the idea of getting together and skateboarding, this is the only one that has the advantage of looking beyond and placing it within a larger context, creating a beautiful time capsule of maturing that Mid90s was definitely lacking. It wasn’t interested in what lied beyond. It just wanted to live in the moment.
Then there’s Skate Kitchen. In some respects it mostly exists as this oddity compared to the others. It didn’t have anywhere as much attention when it came out, though it received praise for its unique perspective on the skateboarding community. For the first time, it was a look into the female side of things, where the tomboy nature tried to find acceptance. It’s arguably more impressive because seeing women go into a male-dominated sport is more daunting, and finding those outcasts who hold onto their love of skateboarding in spite of the criticism only makes it more timeless.
I love how real Skate Kitchen feels, especially in relation to Mid90s. Whereas Hill’s vision is a boy’s club of familiar goofing off, Moselle’s narrative is as driven by the desire to roam the streets as it is the intimate side of being a woman growing up. There are standards that need to be discussed, reflecting vulnerability that male directors rarely get insight into, and it informs so much of how these characters see each other. They stick together out of some deeper unity, though they’re not without some conflict. They play tough not only because it’s cool, but because it keeps them from being hurt by the world.
No matter which film you choose, their biggest asset is the skateboarding sequences. I think that Moselle’s is best because of how real it feels. The choice to find the characters not only surfing through the streets but also grooving to the music captures something more personal, of being stuck in a moment and just enjoying life. Nobody captures it like Moselle, where standing around feels like the most profound experience in the world like you’ve finally found a home.
In these moments, I wonder what I would’ve been had I been a skateboarder. Where would I fall on the spectrum? Would I be a Mid90s kid who reveled in injury and dirty jokes? Would I be looking back with a fondness like in Minding the Gap? Or would I find something more authentic in a perspective that’s not my own, like in Skate Kitchen? These moments are fleeting and only really capture a small moment of our lives. Even then, they’re pivotal to some of us, helping to find something greater in the world. Watching all three of these makes me see bonding that I could’ve had.
I mostly bring this up because HBO recently premiered their new series Betty, which is an extension of Skate Kitchen. In a lot of ways, it is the exact same thing. However, I loved being back in that world and the feeling of just existing. There’s no high concept to this. You’re just living life and trying to make the most of your day. It’s the perfect hangout show in a time where everything needs to have a more complicated theme. I get that this show is not for everyone, especially if you don’t like hanging around skate parks. However, I think that it’s another reminder of how much joy can be had just by having friends around.
If I had gotten on a skateboard and stuck with it, would this all play differently? I’m enthused to see a perspective not often seen in a film, or at least without a Hollywood polish that is overdone and misses the point. This is a group of films where every actor is suspect to bruises, and that makes them feel more alive. They capture a moment, and one that continues with Betty. This may not be my favorite sport nor do I really know anyone still grinding, but I do know that seeing people do what you can’t makes you dream all over again. That’s the simple brilliance of these movies. I just wish my sciatica wasn’t going to be annoying about it.
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