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Nicholas Cage's The Surfer is as subtle as a shark bite... but David Attenborough's Ocean documentary is a big splash, writes BRIAN VINER
BRIAN VINER: Almost a year has passed since I first saw The Surfer at the 2024 Cannes Film Festival with the whoops of excitement at the opening titles - ' Nicolas Cage is… The Surfer'
From this point Lorcan Finnegan's film begins to strain with almost audible grunts to replicate the feel of John Boorman's 1972 classic Deliverance, as our would-be surfer, in what he thinks is his own land, finds that he is an undesirable. So does the peacock mantis shrimp, with its fabulously complex eyesight, and boxer crabs, which for self-defence use clumps of venomous anemones as gloves, and look so much like pugilists limbering up for a fight that there should be a promoter, a crustacean Frank Warren, standing behind them. This fascinating and comprehensive portrait examines her impact as the most influential woman in the Third Reich, whose films Triumph Of The Will (1935), lionising the 1934 Nazi Party Congress in Nuremberg, and Olympia (1938), celebrating the 1936 Berlin Olympics, were as technically brilliant as they were creepily sinister.
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