In The Surfer, a sun-scorched psychological thriller from director Lorcan Finnegan (Vivarium), Nicolas Cage delivers another gloriously unhinged performance, this time as an unnamed man pushed to the brink on a hostile beach in Western Australia. The film premiered to intense buzz and now hits U.S. theaters courtesy of Roadside Attractions, offering a harrowing descent into paranoia, desperation, and male pride.
The story kicks off with a seemingly innocent father-son bonding moment. Cage’s character, known only as “The Surfer,” returns to his childhood home of Luna Bay to surf the waves and show his teenage son (played by Finn Little) the lavish house on the cliffs he plans to buy. But the dream quickly curdles. “Don’t live here, don’t surf here,” reads a nearby sign—an ominous local motto that soon proves to be more threat than warning.
After a brutal encounter with a gang of territorial surfers, led by the menacing Scally (Julian McMahon), the protagonist finds himself isolated and increasingly unwelcome. His son flees, his Lexus is towed, and he’s left baking under the Australian sun with no shade, no water, and no phone signal. What follows is less a traditional revenge tale and more a cinematic slow burn of psychological unravelling.
“The Surfer” draws surprising tension not from action-packed sequences, but from the way it traps Cage in a crumbling reality—physically, mentally, emotionally. The bulk of the film unfolds in and around a parking lot, yet the setting becomes a stage for Cage’s descent into sunstroke-induced delirium. As days stretch on, his skin peels, hallucinations creep in, and the lines between reality and madness blur. There are snakes, stolen eggs, and a growing sense of dread that makes The Surfer feel more like a waking nightmare than a traditional beach-set thriller.
Screenwriter Thomas Martin infuses the story with metaphorical weight. Is Cage’s character simply trying to reclaim lost glory? Or is he a delusional man clinging to a vision of masculinity that no longer fits his fractured life? When his estranged wife coldly informs him, “I want a divorce,” over the phone, the emotional breaking point becomes impossible to ignore.
While the first two acts grip with their sunbaked tension, the third act eases into more conventional territory. As the story focuses more on the group of surfer bros, who resemble a cult worshipping a toxic brand of old-school masculinity, the spell begins to weaken. The mystery dissipates, but the emotional damage lingers.
Yet what keeps The Surfer compelling throughout is Nicolas Cage himself. His performance is raw, unpredictable, and perfectly pitched for a character teetering on the edge of total breakdown. Whether he’s crawling through the dirt in a torn designer suit or screaming into the salty wind, Cage captures the agony of a man desperate to reclaim something—status, family, sanity, even if it means losing himself completely.
Rated R for language, suicide, some violence, drug content, and sexual material, The Surfer runs 103 minutes and earns a solid three out of four stars. It may not ride the cleanest cinematic wave, but it certainly crashes with unsettling force.
Now showing in U.S. theaters.
Paraluman P. Funtanilla
Paraluman P. Funtanilla is Tutubi News Magazine's Marketing Specialist and is a Contributing Editor. She finished her degree in Communication Arts in De La Salle Lipa. She has worked as a Digital Marketer for start-up businesses and small business spaces for the past two years. She has earned certificates from Coursera on Brand Management: Aligning Business Brand and Behavior and Viral Marketing and How to Craft Contagious Content. She also worked with Asia Express Romania TV Show.
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- Paraluman P. Funtanilla#molongui-disabled-link
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