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Dog
eat dog |
by Michel Cicero
The over-indulgent machines were their children.
There wasn’t a way down on Earth here to cool ’em...
And I laughed to myself at the men and the ladies who never
conceived those billion dollar babies."
—Alice Cooper, Generation Landslide
The Setting
Dogtown: A run-down section of Santa Monica described fondly
as “Where the debris meets the sea.” The nucleus
of Dogtown is at the intersection of Bay and Main Streets.
The Characters
Jay Adams: The beloved Z-Boy is known for his unsurpassed
natural ability as both a skateboarder and a surfer. Though
he never stopped skating, he didn’t pursue a career in
athletics. Adams lives in Hawaii where he surfs and skates
regularly. He’ll cash a check for his participation in
the documentary if it comes, but isn’t panting in anticipation.
Tony Alva: The Z-Boys’ resident rock star, Alva is known
for his flawless, aggressive skating style. Legend has it,
he was the first to get air. He still owns and operates Alva
Skateboards, has two kids and no beef with Vans.
Glen E. Friedman: The only photographer other than Stecyk
to document the Z-Boys with his acclaimed photographs. He’s
published a number of books, including the seminal Fuck You
Heroes and has worked with musical artists the Beastie Boys,
Black Flag, Run DMC and others. Friedman’s official title
according to Sony Pictures Classics, is producer/creative
consultant. Friedman is least likely to be seen playing ball
on the corporate team.
Jeff Ho, Skip Engblom and Craig Stecyk: Together the surfboard
maker, the entrepreneur and the artist formed Jeff Ho and
Zephyr Productions Surf Shop in Santa Monica. Engblom and
Stecyk coined the word Dogtown and the rest is history. Ho
builds surfboards in Hawaii. Engblom owns Santa Monica Airlines
and surfs four days a week. Stecyk, who has a permanent surfboard
and skateboard display at the Smithsonian Institution’s
Museum of American History, has shown his work worldwide.
Jim Muir: Brother Mike made it big with his band Suicidal
Tendencies while Jim, rather auspiciously, registered the
Dogtown name and started a successful manufacturing company.
Stacy Peralta: Turned skateboarding into a legitimate business
with Powell-Peralta, a business that helped him discover his
creative side. He dabbled in television direction before going
on to co-write and direct Dogtown and Z-Boys. His character
has come under scrutiny with some of the Z-Boys following
a proliferation of merchandise associated with the film.
Nathan Pratt: Pratt was the first and last Z-Boy to make the
Jeff Ho and Zephyr Productions Surf Shop his second home.
Though not lauded for his skating ability, he did pursue a
career in surfing. Later he married into the Coffee Bean and
Tea Leaf business and now lives on an avocado orchard in Somis
with his wife and two children. Pratt’s been wary of
Vans involvement in the film from day one and is currently
negotiating with Vans for a percentage of shoe sales.
Jay Wilson: The Vice President of Global Marketing for Vans
Inc, Wilson has a number of impressive accomplishments to
his credit. He believes strongly in the positive effects of
sports on youth and spearheaded the Vans Triple Crown Series
sports competition. He was instrumental in Vans’ funding
of the Dogtown movie and wants people to get things into perspective.
Temple of the Dog
Walking distance from the crumbling artifices of the urine-stained
ghost town that would later house the trendy Third Street
Promenade, Skip Engblom and Craig Stecyk lamented the heat
over vodka and papaya juice.
One said, “This is really the dog days.”
The other replied, “Yeah, this is really a dog town.”
It was the mid ’70s and sleepy Santa Monica’s glistening,
cracked sidewalks had not yet felt the suction grip of Hollywood’s
tentacles. Neither had Dogtown’s Z-Boys, whose life story
rights would become hot property three decades later following
an article in Spin magazine and the release of a little documentary
directed by one of their own.
With vintage Dogtown skateboards selling for as much as $3,000
on E-Bay and the youth market for extreme sports at an all-time
high, the timing was perfect for re-visiting the legendary
Z-Boys and their sacred stomping grounds.
By all accounts, Stacy Peralta’s intentions were honorable.
When Hollywood came on to the Dogtown buzz generated by the
Spin piece, Peralta refused to sign on the dotted line. The
sentient pretty boy who friends describe as “conservative”
had seen enough bad skateboard movies to know the formula.
“I was worried that if Hollywood took a hold of this
script, they would make a one-dimensional portrait of a time
in our lives that was probably the most precious,” said
Peralta.
In the past, fellow Z-Boys Tony Alva and Jay Adams had partially
eclipsed Peralta with their aggressive style and scrappy good
looks. The two had attitude and charisma to spare. Peralta’s
technical skill and fresh-scrubbed appeal didn’t always
turn heads, but his studious approach to the sport paid off.
At 19, he co-founded the skate products manufacturer Powell-Peralta,
which led to his discovery of Tony Hawk, who he sponsored
for 11 years. His “Bones Brigade” skate videos spawned
an industry. Later his flair for filmmaking led to credits
on Spielberg’s Hook and Bravo’s Influences series.
Not bad for a geeky skate rat from West Los Angeles who hijacked
swimming pools during the Z-Boys reign. Yet maybe not good
enough for the divorced father whose achievements and failures
were meeting him head on in the mid-life lane. The aspiring
screenwriter had done well for himself, but certain goals
were still unmet.
So, when Hollywood called, Peralta said, “I will only
sell my rights if I’m involved in the writing of the
screenplay.” Hollywood bigwigs didn’t bite. Eventually,
he realized he could make his own movie—without them.
It would be a documentary, and it probably wouldn’t make
any money because, you know, documentaries are notoriously
unprofitable, but it would tell the story—the right way.
A couple years later—with a Sundance Film Festival Best
Director Award on his mantel for the documentary Dogtown and
Z-Boys and his script for the Hollywood feature film Lords
of Dogtown signed, sealed and delivered—Peralta finds
himself at the center of a dispute as stinky as a used pair
of skateboard shoes.
Mad Dogs and businessmen
Getting a film funded, especially a documentary, is a little
like sucking a raw egg through a pinhole. It’s exhausting
and nauseating. It blows and it tastes bad, and if you succeed
without egg on your face, maybe you can see your reflection
in the mirror.
As Peralta tells it, Vans Inc. originally agreed to go halves
with a Hollywood studio when, after six months of negotiations,
the studio pulled out. Two weeks later, Vans came back and
said, “You know what, we really believe in this project.
We’re gonna finance it.”
Peralta’s gratitude for the skateboard shoe manufacturer’s
altruism was undoubtedly palpable. But for a company that
pocketed a profit in the neighborhood of $15 million last
year, $400,000 wasn’t exactly risky. Wilson confirmed
that the only thing Vans wanted in return was production credit
at the beginning and end of the film. The cozy alliance was
a coup for Vans and an obvious boost to Peralta’s career.
Peralta maintains that Vans had no creative input and was
financing the film as a gesture of appreciation. Peralta was
the first skater to be paid for wearing someone’s shoes,
and those shoes were Vans. If it hadn’t been for the
Z-Boys, Vans might have drifted into obscurity like the boys
themselves.
Vans’ foray into the independent film business was unprecedented
and Hollywood took notice. A recent promotional newsletter
distributed to Cannes Film Festival participants by Anderson
Entertainment remarked that Vans knew “the skateboarders
would be plugging their shoes in virtually every action scene....”
As the little movie that could inched its way closer to the
April 26 release date—and with critical acclaim for Dogtown
and Z-Boys piling up in the form of film festival awards—a
tab on the Vans Web site appeared: “Dogtown Shop.”
Dogtown products are currently the most dominant element on
Vans’ opening page. A link to the movie’s Web site
can be found under the shopping tabs, nestled between “NBC
Sports,” “Fox Sports” and “Vans Warped
Tour.”
Flush right, a pair of colorful shoes stamped with the Dogtown
logo appears next to the words “Available On Line Now.”
Below that, the retro checkerboard shoe that Dogtown and Z-Boys
narrator Sean Penn wore in Fast Times at Ridgemont High sits
above the word “Shop.” Click on the link to the
official movie site and while the page is loading, an ad interstitial
or “pop-up window” materializes with, you guessed
it, an ad for the Dogtown shoe.
Meanwhile, the film’s distributor, Sony Pictures Classics,
has set a late summer release date for the DVD and VHS versions
of the movie, and rumors of a video game have certain Z-Boys
squirming.
Z-Boy Nathan Pratt, himself a successful, savvy businessman,
saw the writing on the wall long before it appeared on a proposed
agreement from Vans.
Pratt, who lives with his family in Somis, claims that when
Peralta first told him that Vans was funding the film, he
offered to finance it, but Peralta said he was committed to
Vans.
When it came time to shoot Pratt’s interview for the
film, he was handed a “standard release” requesting
that he grant Peralta and producer Agi Orsi (the Dogtown Documentary
Partnership) “the non-exclusive right, but not the obligation,
to use [Pratt’s] name, likeness, biographical information,
interview, appearances and voice in all media (defined as
including but not limited to theatrical broadcast, television,
cable television, video and the Internet) throughout the territory
(defined as worldwide) in perpetuity in connection with the
creation, filming, production, distribution, exploitation,
promotion, marketing and merchandising of the Dogtown Documentary.”
Further, it offered Pratt “no compensation of any kind.”
The other Z-Boys had signed the release, but he refused.
Approximately eight months later, with Pratt’s release
still unsigned, he told Peralta he wanted a merchandise exclusion
clause. “I don’t mind doing it for free if no one’s
getting any back end, no one’s getting any profit, no
one is getting paid, but we don’t want Vans making money
off of our backs,” said Pratt. “I don’t want
to see Dogtown T-shirts. I don’t want to see tennis shoes.
I don’t want this to become the Vans Christmas 2002 line.”
According to Pratt, Peralta told him Vans promised there would
be no merchandise. When the Vans catalog appeared, chock full
of Dogtown merchandise, Pratt decided to go to bat for the
other Z-Boys too.
But Vans’ vice president of global marketing, Jay Wilson,
says he never made that promise. And besides, says Wilson,
“There already [was] Dogtown merchandise”—Z-Boy
Jim Muir’s been marketing it for years. Whatever Vans
worked out with Muir was a standard business-to-business transaction.
Theoretically, Vans is just selling what already existed (minus
the shoes). As Wilson explains it, there is not now, nor has
there ever been any merchandise marketed under the movie’s
name, Dogtown and Z-Boys. Semantics or not, it’s an important
distinction.
Who let the Alpha Dogs out
Tony Alva, a man never known for understating a point, doesn’t
support Pratt’s effort. “He’s been calling
the guys incessantly and giving them all this propaganda—he’s
like the Adolph Hitler of the whole thing.”
To Alva’s mind, since he and Peralta are the only guys
who pursued careers in skateboarding, other than Muir, it’s
gravy.
“I’m taking it in stride because I see something
coming to me that I worked toward for 30 years, and I’m
going, ‘Hallelujah,’” Alva said. “Don’t
get me wrong—I love these guys, but I don’t want
to hear them bitching and moaning about not getting their
fair share when, if they had their shit together and were
out there working from day one, they would be getting their
fair share.”
And if Wilson had dollar signs in his eyes, more power to
him, Alva said. “Vans is in business to sell shoes, to
make money. So for them to use the Dogtown thing as a marketing
vehicle, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s 100
percent all-American capitalism,” he said. “And
it’s only to our advantage. I’m a 44-year-old kid.
I’m stoked when I get my check and a couple pairs of
free shoes. It’s nice to be sponsored.”
Some would say that’s an easy stance to take from his
vantage point, but what about the less fortunate of the Z-Boys,
like Jay Adams, whose mantra is “100 percent skateboarder
for life.” Adams said he feels misled but acknowledges
that a series of miscommunications could be to blame. “And
we can’t complain about it because we’re all reaping
rewards from it in the long run in other ways,” he added.
Many think that if anyone deserves compensation for his involvement
in the film, it’s Adams. He was the team’s golden
boy, the one Stecyk credits for elevating the sport to an
art form. With all the well-deserved accolades Dogtown and
Z-Boys has enjoyed, the one segment in the film that garners
consistent harsh criticism is the Adams sequence. Thrasher
magazine recently reported that Ozzy Osbourne, along with
a posse of trendoids, exited a screening in protest of Peralta’s
film treatment of Adams.
The film’s creative consultant, Glen Friedman, sums up
the over-dramatization of Adams’ plunge into drug addiction—through
the use of morose music and emotionally manipulative childhood
photos—as “Stacy’s novice technique.”
It’s a remark that doesn’t even begin to illustrate
Friedman’s exasperation with the whole project.
During the ’80s, when memories of the Z-Boys had faded,
and only the most zealous skateboarding enthusiasts and collectors
kept tabs on their whereabouts, Friedman kept the legend alive
through books like Fuck You Heroes. When the film was in the
earliest stages of development, Friedman’s involvement
was practically mandatory. Besides loaning hundreds of his
photographs to the project, by his own estimation, Friedman
was responsible for getting permission to use Jimi Hendrix’s
“Ezy Ryder” and music by Aerosmith, apparently no
easy task and quite cost-prohibitive. Friedman also says he
was instrumental in bringing Sean Penn on board to narrate
the film, a windfall that gave the project instant credibility.
Their creative differences were numerous, but Friedman is
quick to commend Peralta: “He worked very hard on the
film, and he did something no one else could have done.”
At the same time, Friedman cannot disguise his disgust for
the overtly commercial turn he believes the project took and
what he considers unforgivable marketing ploys executed by
Vans and Sony Pictures Classics. According to Friedman, Sony,
which he says “pretends to be an art film company,”
censored the f-word from the film after Sundance, in order
to get a PG-13 rating. He alleges the word “fuck”
was used a handful of times throughout the film by various
Z-Boys during interview segments. For someone who’s used
the word in nearly all his book titles, it’s not the
word, but the censoring of it that’s offensive.
Said Friedman, “It’s the epitome of a sell-out.”
He alleges that Sony claimed an R rating would prevent advertising
in youth-oriented publications. Friedman said he spoke with
representatives from some of these publications and discovered
the R rating was not a problem. He lambasted Sony Pictures
Classics’ president Tom Bernard for allegedly stretching
the truth about the rating’s effects to squeeze more
youngsters into theater seats. “Tom Bernard [is a] complete
scumbag asshole piece of shit. [He] bent the truth, and in
the mean time they censored the movie,” Friedman said.
“They’re advertising it as a film that won at Sundance,
but it isn’t. If things have been changed, it’s
not the same movie.”
Bernard says the Sundance version was a “rough cut”
of the film and that no profanity was edited out. “Unfortunately,
Mr. Friedman, I think, is not happy with whatever agreement
[film producers] worked out for his services [in association
with] the picture,” he surmised.
Whether or not the film’s integrity suffered is subjective.
The fact that Vans is legally marketing merchandise under
the Dogtown name is not all that earth shattering. What does
stand out as a blatant example of the Vans/Sony marketing
agenda is the Dogtown and Z-Boys movie trailer, the short
promotional preview.
With a little more than 90 minutes worth of footage to choose
from for the 1:49-second trailer, someone decided it was essential
to include what most people would consider an insignificant
moment in the film. It’s during the Wentzle Ruml interview
when he describes the unofficial Z-Boys uniform. “We
were wearing these shirts [the Zephyr Team T-shirts], Levis
and dark blue Vans,” he says. If that’s not an advertisement
for Vans, then the Z-Boys didn’t pioneer vertical skating.
Neither statement can be proved because both are basically
conjecture—but food for thought nonetheless.
Predictably, the trailer “sickened” Friedman, but
what really killed him was some very deft editing to the portion
in question. Instead of leaving Ruml’s description as
is, the word “Levis” was cut out so what is actually
heard is Ruml saying, “We wore these shirts and dark
blue Vans.” Dodge ball, Doggy-style
Assuming Vans is milking the Dogtown movie for everything
it’s worth, the question, of course, becomes when, if
ever, the company will kick down. At press time, offers and
counter offers were being passed back and forth like joints
at a Snoop Dog concert. Vans’ Wilson (who coincidentally
taught for eight years at the University of Southern California’s
School of Cinema and Television) would like nothing more than
for the whole mess to be resolved.
Pratt thinks Vans is stalling. Along with other Z-Boys who
prefer to remain nameless, Pratt would like a percentage of
the shoe sales. But every time the ball’s in the other
court, Vans’ paperwork comes back with new words—words
like “video games.” Sony’s Bernard says his
company has no plans for a video game.
Said Wilson, “We’ve always professed to help the
Z-Boys out if we made some money on shoes or other things.
We set up a sharing program with them, but you know someone
always wants something else. Fame and fortune always drive
people crazy.”
According to Pratt, the sharing program will pay out after
Vans recoups its losses. With a rumored $5 million already
spent on advertising, the chances of that are slim.
Argues Peralta, “These guys at Vans took a big chance.
They believed in this film when no one believed in it, but
now that everyone thinks it’s cool, everyone’s looking
at Vans as this big Daddy Warbucks, and that’s not the
way they are.”
Pratt says that “the way Vans has handled these negotiations
is very telling.”
Throughout the process, he said, Vans’ lawyers have
allowed unnecessary time lapses in negotiations to occur.
Or, according to Pratt, they’ll call his lawyer’s
office in the evening when they know the office is closed.
“Is that a way to buy another week and wait for the movie
to go out of the theaters and be old news?” asks Pratt.
“They’re just playing corporate hardball.”
For all the good he’s siphoned out of the whole project,
Peralta’s also suffered the most. He views Pratt’s
decision not to sign the original release as calculated and
has said he’ll never speak to him again. “The worst
thing that happened to this movie from Nathan’s point
of view is that it succeeded. He’s taken a beautiful
situation and made it ugly,” Peralta said.
Peralta thought it salient to mention that Pratt’s been
seeking an additional 20 percent for representing other Z-Boys
in the matter, but not everyone thinks Pratt’s out of
line in doing so. Jay Adams appreciates what Pratt is doing.
“Nobody else is doing anything about it, so if he gets
a little something extra for helping everybody get something,
I don’t have a problem with that.”
Nor does he have a problem with Peralta, the film (other than
his portrayal) and any of the Z-Boys. For a guy who’s
found himself on the wrong side of the law, he shines through
as the least self-seeking and most genuine of the pack. He
thinks Peralta did a great job and hopes he prospers as a
result, just as he hopes everyone does. Adams isn’t holding
his breath for the big check from Vans; he’s too busy
being real. “Hopefully in the long run we’ll make
something out of it in other ways.”Dog spelled backwards
It’s an attitude that’s more likely to generate
spiritual rather than monetary wealth and one Adams shares
with Alva, who’s matured into quite the mensch despite
his colossal ego. “We’re given an opportunity to
spread the gospel. That’s why people love the Dogtown
thing, said Alva. “It’s a positive statement [that
says] live your life, do it your own way.” He added,
“I like to wake up early in the morning and just feel
like it’s another day and there’s gonna be a lot
of good things going on.”
The moral of the story? There isn’t one—the story’s
not over. If there’s a lesson to be learned, and there
always is, maybe it’s “Beware of Mercury Retrograde.”
Everyone knows you don’t make deals when the planet of
communication goes in reverse. There’s also the “me-generation”
factor. Dogtown was, after all, christened in the ’70s
by Engblom and Stecyk. But even more relevant, from a metaphysical
standpoint, is simple cause and effect, karma and dharma.
Way back when the Z-Boys got their first taste of success,
following the famed Del Mar Nationals competition, they had
to make some difficult decisions. Sure they were young, but
for every action there’s a reaction. Many of the boys
couldn’t ignore the carrots being dangled by potential
sponsors. In the end, their achievements, along with the lure
of financial reward contributed to the demise of Jeff Ho and
Zephyr Productions. The men who had nurtured their talents
and to some extent parented them, Jeff Ho, Skip Engblom and
Craig Stecyk were forced out of business.
As water seeks its own level, some power beyond our understanding
has a way of keeping things in balance. Just ask Stecyk, the
man who, along with Engblom, coined Dogtown one scorching,
endless summer day. He says he hasn’t been contacted
by anyone regarding any of the aforementioned events.
To what does he attribute being left out of the loop? “The
gods like me.”
Michel Cicero’s email address is michel@vcreporter.com
