May 23, 2005
Recounting Skateboarding's Upstart Days
By SHARON WAXMAN
VENICE, Calif., May 22 - Catherine Hardwicke didn't have a prayer of directing "Lords of Dogtown," a big Hollywood production about a trio of scrappy skateboarders in the 1970's who incidentally turned the sport on its head. Actually, on their heads.
Two summers ago, the movie, which opens on June 3, was deep into preproduction with the powerhouse talent David Fincher ("Fight Club," "Panic Room") preparing to direct it. But after he asked for about $18 million to build a replica of a long-defunct pier on the Pacific Ocean, the studio balked and the director rethought his priorities.
Ms. Hardwicke grabbed her skateboard, surfboard and a bad skateboard video she had made in the 1980's and raced over to the Sony lot, prepared to beg. "When they called I almost jumped out of my skin," said the director, 49, a diminutive blond figure collapsed on a couch in her living room in Venice, a half-block from the beach where Dogtown, which was what skateboarders called the neighborhood back then, was born.
She said: "I was freakin' jealous. I live here." She knew: she could feel this movie better than anyone. And Ms. Hardwicke had another advantage: a friendship with Stacy Peralta, a founder of what became a true American subculture, daredevil skateboarding. He wrote and directed the award-winning documentary on which "Lords of Dogtown" was based, "Dogtown and Z-Boys," and wrote the screenplay for the feature.
Mr. Peralta pushed to hire Ms. Hardwicke, who was hot off her acclaimed debut film, "Thirteen," a hard-edged yet heartfelt take on two teenage girls running wild in Los Angeles. Her enthusiasm, along with the strength of that film, finally convinced the reigning powers at Sony Pictures Entertainment. They promptly gave her $18 million, a fraction of the estimated $70 million that Mr. Fincher intended to spend on the film, said people involved in the film. (With cost overruns, the movie cost about $25 million, the studio said.) She made it work. Here was her philosophy: "Sets are evil. Soundstages are evil. I like that gritty reality. You want it to be real. The kids really skate. They really lived in this place. You never stopped skating."
Mr. Peralta, 47, stared admiringly from his perch beside her on the couch. A green, life-size stuffed dingo, one of Ms. Hardwicke's offbeat art purchases (many of which show up in the background of her films), sat on an end table beside the filmmakers. The coffee table was an old surfboard on curved legs.
"My fear of the whole movie from Day 1 was it would be juvenile," he said. "Or it would be a macho Jerry Bruckheimer film, and wouldn't be the character film I thought it should be. In the wrong hands, it could've been sap."
He was gratified that the film turned out to be neither of those things. Instead it is a companion piece to "Thirteen" in its unvarnished, documentary-style approach to the rise of street skateboarding and the three teenagers who were its originators and became its superstars: Mr. Peralta, Tony Alva and Jay Adams.
The film tells a relatively simple story of their friendship and rivalry as they discovered the excitement of ever-more challenging skating stunts - notably when they began riding the walls of empty pools during a Southern California drought - and began inspiring a generation of skaters who followed their lead.
Ms. Hardwicke not only hand-chose the young actors who would play the real-life characters - John Robinson as Mr. Peralta, Victor Rasuk as Mr. Alva and Emile Hirsch as Mr. Adams; she made sure to immerse them in the street culture they were to portray. Mr. Rasuk (the lead in the indie film "Raising Victor Vargas") came straight from the "yo-yo-yo" New York street life, she recalled, and required "an extreme West Coast makeover." She checked him into a boarding house just off the Venice boardwalk, replaced his Nikes with Vans and attached him to Mr. Alva for two and a half months. Mr. Rasuk was not a skater and the others had no special claim to the sport.
She threw herself into the culture too, heading down to Oceanside, Calif., where Mr. Alva and his sister still sell a successful line of skateboards out of their shop. She flew to Hawaii to spend three days surfing and picking mangoes with Mr. Adams, where he was confined by parole requirements after drug-related charges.
"I fell in love with Tony," she said. "I fell in love with Jay. I already loved Stacy." She met Mr. Peralta some 20 years ago in acting class, and the affection (platonic) between them is palpable.
The production had the hallmarks of an indie, homegrown affair. Wherever possible, Ms. Hardwicke hired skateboarders as the crew of the film. She herself mounted a Jet Ski, surfboard and motorbike to shoot many scenes, giving the film a sense of constant kinetic energy. (She hired one champion skateboarder, Lance Mountain, to be a cameraman, and he can be seen in photos from the shooting location skating with a hand-held camera inches behind the actors inside an empty swimming pool.)
Running out of money, Ms. Hardwicke - a former production designer - bought a Ferris wheel for $7,000 on eBay and reassembled it to create part of the dilapidated Pacific Ocean Park Pier that Mr. Fincher proposed rebuilding for millions. (He remained an executive producer on the film, and gave Ms. Hardwicke his piles of research.)
With Mr. Peralta and Mr. Alva on the set, there were plenty of surreal moments, and nostalgic ones. When Mr. Robinson, 19, could not master a special Peralta skating stunt for a scene recreating a competition in Del Mar, Calif., Ms. Hardwicke finally turned in desperation to Mr. Peralta, who put on a wig and played himself - at age 16 - as a stunt-double.
Then near the end, catastrophe very nearly struck. With just a few days remaining on the shoot, Ms. Hardwicke slipped and fell backward into the deep end of an empty pool. She landed on her head, with nothing to break her fall.
"Blood was pouring out of me," she recalled. "The boys were crying. Tony was crying. It was pretty freaky, I guess." She woke up in the hospital and learned that, fairly miraculously, she had broken an orbital bone on her face, but was neither paralyzed nor had any permanent damage.
"Tony said, 'I'm sorry, but now you're one of the team,' " Ms. Hardwicke said. "Jay Adams said the same thing: 'Now you know what it's like.' " She laughed. "You get no sympathy from skaters."
But Mr. Peralta does have gratitude. "The biggest feeling I have is one of utter relief that this period of our lives, this touchstone, wasn't done improperly," Mr. Peralta said. "She got it."