Malibu surfers Jody (Fabian), Chase (Peter Brown), and Steamer (Tab Hunter) spend their vacation in Hawaii, hoping to catch the mountainous, three-story-high waves at Waimea Bay. But first they have to pass muster at Haleiwa, with its still-imposing surf, and win the respect of the local surfing elite, particularly surfing badass Eskimo (James Mitchum, one of Robert's look-alike sons) and unpleasant Frank (John Anthony Hayes).

There are few surprises as Jody, Chase, and Steamer, all conventionally handsome in a white bread sort of way, each pair off with local girls, who are a bit more colorful than they are. Jody, forever surly because he (wrongly) assumes everyone thinks he's "chicken," falls for perky Brie Matthews (Shelley Fabares, her hair bleached blonde), who patiently puts up with his constant bellyaching. Straight-laced Chase is drawn to free spirit Augie Poole (Barbara Eden), while Steamer falls for Lily Kilua (Susan Hart, later Mrs. James H. Nicholson), an islander whose mother hates beach bums. As the surfers and their girls party and occasionally bicker, they monitor weather reports and eagerly await the arrival of the Big Wave out at Waimea Bay.

As a romantic comedy/melodrama, Ride the Wild Surf is strictly by the numbers. The characters are cardboard, though a few of the actors, particularly Barbara Eden and, rather unexpectedly, Tab Hunter and Susan Hart, manage to breathe some life into them and make them distinctive. Fabian was something of a sub-Elvis since his starring debut in Hound Dog Man (1959). (The IMDb lists the Benny Hill comedy, Who Done It? as his debut, surely a mistake.) Like Elvis often did in his movies, Fabian plays a character with a giant chip on his shoulder, ready to beat the crap out of anyone who would dare accuse him of being a coward. This turned up in so many Elvis movies it became a joke, and functions in much the same dramatically unsound way here, the net result being that Fabian's character is intensely irritating throughout.

Where Ride the Wild Surf really delivers is in its picturesque use of Hawaiian locations and its admirable efforts to capture the surfing culture there, much like the first (and somewhat underrated) Gidget (1959). Where the AIP Beach Party movies were a gaudy if entertaining blend of broad slapstick, music, and rear-screen surfing, the latter used primarily as something to cut away to, Ride the Wild Surf puts the sport front-and-center, and for once the surfing jargon, concerns over the dangers, etc., sound reasonably authentic. Though obvious process work is employed here, too, most of the surfing scenes do a reasonable job of mixing shots of the principals in the water with real surfers doubling for them on the sometimes huge waves. More than half the film seems to have been shot in far-off Hawaii, as opposed to the Beach Party movies which rarely left the stretch of sand between Santa Monica and Malibu, and uses it better than many other films shot there, such as Gidget Goes Hawaiian (1961). (Within this sub-sub-genre this reviewer favors Paradise, Hawaiian Style. It's even better than the more famous Blue Hawaii.)

The picture was directed by actor-turned-director Don Taylor, in the manner of the innumerable episodic television shows he was making during this period. Jan & Dean sing the great end title tune, which was co-written by Brian Wilson.

Video & Audio

Ride the Wild Surf is presented in its original 1.85:1 theatrical aspect ratio in anamorphic 16:9 format. The image is okay if unspectacular. Title elements and other opticals are dirty, probably inherent in the original release. In any case this is a big step up for Columbia/TriStar after their terrible full-frame set of Gidget movies. The mono sound is par for its era; included are optional yellow English subtitles only. The only Extra Features, if one is to call them that, are trailers for Riding Giants (16:9), Dogstown and Z-Boys (4:3 LBX), and 50 First Dates (16:9).

Parting Thoughts

Ride the Wild Surf is overlong by a good half-hour, but harmless fun nonetheless. Nineteen sixty-four audiences probably ooh'd and ahh'd watching all the spectacular wipe-outs, just as they were bored by the innocuous romance.

Stuart Galbraith IV is a Los Angeles and Kyoto-based film historian whose work includes The Emperor and the Wolf -- The Lives and Films of Akira Kurosawa and Toshiro Mifune. His new book, Cinema Nippon will be published by Taschen in 2005.