'Airborne' endures as a laid-back piece of the '90s
You won’t win any fans in the serious film community by declaring your love for a nearly forgotten rollerblading movie that barely even registered upon its release in 1993. But anyone who lazily lobs words like “formulaic” or “cheesy” overlooks this PG-rated roll through the extreme sports world’s uniquely empowering spirit. This is the rare teen comedy that argues for being yourself and actually wins its case.
Mitchell Goosen (Shane McDermott of “Swans Crossing,” perfectly cast) is the epitome of California dude: He dreams of a perfect wave and tells his rollerblades, “You guys were awesome today. Gracias.” If you are the type who would make fun of a person who is so amused by his hobbies and at peace with his place in the world, then this ultra-chill surfer is the ideal target for your misguided aggression. And Mitchell finds a whole bunch of bros like this when his parents are sent to study the Australian wombat for six months and the teenage leader of the unofficial Gandhi fan club lands in Cincinnati, where Jack (Chris Conrad), Augie (Jack Black!) and their group of angry hockey cronies don’t take kindly to guys with fluffy hair, easygoing smiles and charm in place of a grimace. West Coast cool, meet Midwestern grit.
Mitchell’s only allies are Wiley (Seth Green), the cousin he hasn’t seen since they were in diapers, and Nikki (Brittany Powell), who is kind and taken by Mitchell’s embrace of things like purple sunsets and surfing in the rain. Throughout “Airborne” is a clash between ease and passivity, rigidness and open-mindedness, and few movies set in high school achieve a message of such appealing calm.
I won’t claim that “Airborne” isn’t predictable or that the bullies’ pranks are inspired or that the conventional war with the preps and the secret revealed about Nikki aren’t bitten from any number of ‘80s romps about skiing or surfing or insert your sport that’s not played on a field or court. The story often makes little sense. And we probably shouldn’t spend too much time on the “Don’t punch, just pants” theory of social harmony.
But its innocence really works, confronting people who resent others who are different from them while creating a dialogue about picking your battles. The getting-dressed montage is hilarious and appropriately absurd. And the climactic race down “devil’s backbone”—the most dangerous hill in town that Wiley says made the last guy who even tried to walk down it forget who he was—is so long as to be startling, and exactly as exhilarating as it should be.
Call this maybe-not-quite-but-should-be-a-cult-classic dopey if you must. Its fashions and vibe are very ‘90s (aside from ‘80s legend Stewart Copeland of the Police tackling the score). “Airborne” shouldn’t be blamed for that. It belongs to a category of movie that sadly doesn’t much exist anymore and stands out for its portrait of identity and authenticity—as well as lessons about drawing people in and pushing them away. It’s quotable. It’s sweet. And forever underrated.
B
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