The surf movie is a hallowed tradition among enthusiasts. Not unlike the ski flick, it is used to get the juices flowing while exciting our inner cravings for liquid. It preys upon our ability to float, glide, slide and ride the substance that sustains life.
After five years of college, ten thousand dollars of accumulated debt, one too many speeding tickets and a variety of interesting, yet ultimately failed relationships with women, I decided at the age of 25 it was time to break free from my self imposed prison and do what any sensible east coast homeboy should in a situation of extreme duress
Its an indie-film revival period with corporate sponsors, and this hybrid release by Standard Films and a few young, talented editors is a perfect example. Maybe I just expect every ski film to be a Warren Miller film, but Lost In Transition has hot, killer footage, with no substance.
With the unbearable wind-chills and sub-zero temps, this year’s northeast ski season has been less than legendary. There have been some large storms, and snowfalls have been reported steady at various resorts, but lately, braving the cold has been a far greater challenge than the terrain.
Combining cross-country race skiing and rifle marksmanship, Biathlon originated in Scandinavia where primitive hunters traveled on skis to pursue game in the winter months. In the late 1700s, Swedish and Norwegian border patrol ski troops held the first Biathlon competition. It became an Olympic sport in 1960 in Squaw Valley and has grown into the most popular winter sport in Europe.
Skiing never made much sense to me. Every winter growing up in Milwaukee, a healthy chunk of classmates would be bussed up to a ski resort called Sunburst, leaving a few dozen of us pasty, fragile children behind. Not that I minded much; to me, a skier was placed in the same category as someone who would drive a car without a seatbelt on. A lunatic. I grew up in a conservative Jewish household-not conservative in the religious sense; we enjoyed a nice piece of shellfish every now and again. I mean conservative in the neurotic, overly cautious sense. I might not have been allowed to experience football, skiing, snowboarding, wrestling, hockey, or lacrosse. But I did turn out to be quite a fine yahtzee player.