Modern Collective - The First Visions from Poor Specimen on Vimeo.
It begins...
Maybe some women aren't meant to be tamed. Maybe they just need to run free ‘til they find someone just as wild to run with them. Maybe all men are a drug. Sometimes they bring you down and sometimes, like now, they get you so high. Maybe mistakes are what make our fate. Maybe the past is an anchor holding us back. Maybe, you have to let go of who you are to become who you will be. Maybe Modern Collective is the best surf film ever or maybe it is just the best surf film since Gone with the Wind.
The premier happened last night in Hollywood at Les Deux, an appropriate venue. Blacks accented with peach. Very European. Very bottle service. Very sexy overstuffed leather couches. Les Deux peaked, months ago, howevs as a private venue it is tres perfect. I don’t know if young Kai Neville is aware, but his choice is prophetic. This club was one of the places where seriously hot Hollywood girls started to dress hipster. The short terrycloth shorts. Some long athletic socks sheathing legs of barely-human perfection. The first time these sartorial delights appeared amongst the cocktail dresses and standard slut-gear of LA club set.
The birth of an attractive, albeit shallow, revolution. But aren’t the most glorious revolutions always shallow? The French? The Orange?
A screen has been hung from the rafters and customized Skull Candy headphones handed out to guests. A DJ spins trance, vocal, and melodic mixes. Modern Collective’s soundtrack will not be played over the house system. It will be played individually though Skull Candies and receivers. I clip mine to the V in my neck.
Maybe having money isn't the answer but it makes your life a hell of a lot nicer. If you have the choice to have money or not have money, pick having money.
Beautiful people mill around absentmindedly. Lots of layered stretchable cotton over taut brown skin. Bracelets and necklaces. A few too many knit hats on men. I ask an executive from FUEL TV if the rumors are true; if FUEL is to be sold by Fox. He says, “You know in this economy everything is being sold. And everything is being bought.”
Blair Marlin is looking impossibly handsome. I ask if he is here to support Dane and Dusty. He says, “Ahhh those guys are so easy. They don’t need anything.” Blair also manages Bruce and Andy.
Dane Reynolds and his lovely girlfriend Courtney are the first of the Collective to arrive. He says, “I haven’t seen it yet, I’m excited.” And then we speak about the nihilism he is reading right now. He looks good. Fresh, even though his face is far from shaved. He throws his head back in laughter when I say, “Maybe if we had never veered off course we wouldn't fall in love, have babies, or be who we are.”
I see Dion Agius. He is wearing a delightful black leather jacket, stripped t-shirt combination. He is youthful. Effervescent. He says, “I haven’t seen it yet, I’m excited.” We speak about Hawaii and the internet. He says, “I’m just going to start wearing the fruitiest things all the time.” His date is a very attractive Venetian. Her brown hair glows in the pink-hued club lighting.
There are five men who look like Mitch Coleborn and I don’t know which is actually him. Or if he is even here. All of them are in knit caps, flannel shirts and Volcom jeans. All of them have mustaches.
The show begins, late. Everyone tilts their heads back at a 45-degree angle and stares at the screen. Transfixed and expectant. Music pumps, individually. The first scenes come.
Dion, Dane, Yadin, Jordy, Dusty, Mitch all standing around a pyramid of ice. Staring. Then they travel all over the world and the music is super hip. They get on planes and look good. They surf all sorts of wedgy rights and lefts and kick fantastic airs. I think Dion looks the best when he lands. His back always bowed a touch. Chin forward. Wrist elevated but limp. I think Dane looks the best when he takes off. In control of mad spins. The cutaway shots to the boys walking, or driving, are all chic. The music keeps pumping. The locations are caught in a glorious light. Old Moroccan men strut by and then Dusty struts by. The juxtaposition between a red-haired child from Maui and Oriental splendor is not ham-fisted. It is delightful. Jordy does a superman. Then he does another superman. Mitch spins and spins and spins and spins. Three at a time walk to the beach carrying their boards. The music pumps. Yadin smiles.
Maybe men have no idea what they're dealing with down there. Teeth placement, and jaw stress, and suction, and gag reflex, and all the while bobbing up and down, moaning and trying to breathe through their noses. Easy? Honey, they don't call it a job for nothin.'
Yadin throws a huge ally-oop in either Morocco or Mexico followed by another huge ally-oop in either Australia or America. Everyone has their heads at the same 45-degree angle. The music pumps. Dusty weaves through barrels and then kicks a big no grab backside air. He crashes into the foam. Dion frontside no grab. Crash. Frontside no grab. Crash. Frontside no grab. Crash. Frontside no grab. Land. Dane does a carving 360 in Ventura. Mitch spins. The boys walk along a cliff. A pulled back camera focuses as they lean into the wind. Dusty points at a barreling pointbreak. Jordy tries to get out of the water. He is repeatedly washed against the rocks. He finally gets out, looks at the camera and smiles.
Maybe Women don't care. Maybe they care about nice arms, great eyes, a big dick. I've never once heard a woman say: "He had such a big full scrotum.”
I see Jordy out of the corner of my eye. He is air boxing and dancing. Jumping. I used to find him the ugliest man on earth but he only looks awesome now. He has dialed his deal. His hair, blonde and brown, looks like it has been cut by a four-year old. It is short in front, long everywhere else and out of control. His eyeballs are opened wide, revealing pin-prick pupils. He is jumping and dancing and grinding and air boxing and he is wearing a brown leather jacket. He is a mad South African animal. He is Matthew McConaughey in Dazed and Confused. His deal is dialed.
I see Yadin Nicol out of the corner of my other eye. He is standing with either his wife or girlfriend. She is gorgeous. His hair is cut in a strange Caesar style. His face is as wide as his smile.
Both of my eyes begin to water. I am smoking my third Camel Crush.
And the film ends. I am not being hyperbolic. It will change everything. Children will huck with more abandon at their beachbreaks. Those with no surf talent will grab cameras and film the hucking children, interspersing artistic montages between ally-oops. Those with no cameras will paint and wear skinny jeans while listening to ambient trance. Those with no skinny jeans will try to make love to their friends who are painting and listening to trance. Those with no style will loathe everyone and play football.
Maybe if we had never veered off course we wouldn't fall in love, have babies, or be who we are.- Charlie Smith
Modern Collective teaser ft: Jordy from Poor Specimen on Vimeo.
Posts: 35
Reply #35 on : Tue November 10, 2009, 06:09:18