Girls Can’t Surf: Celebratory but shallow doco about the women who took on monster waves

When the internet saw a photo that illustrated the accepted prejudice in surfing, everything changed. But that history ran deep.

In 2018, one viral photo put into stark relief the gross inequality between professional men and women surfers.

Two winners of a junior competition, one boy, one girl, both first place. One cheque for $R8000 ($A1855) and another for $R4000 ($A927). You don’t even have to think about it to know whose prize was half that of the other.

Global #surfing brands pay girl surf champs half the prize money of the boys. When questioned, they still condone it. Serious lack of leadership from @billabong1973@wsl @BOS @billabongwomens@SASurfing 😡 https://t.co/0OWa7aVlq9#billabongJNR#BallitoPropic.twitter.com/u4onDEaThe

— Meggie Palmer (@MeggiePalmer) June 27, 2018

The outrage that followed led to a long-awaited commitment from the World Surf League of equal prize money for men and women surfers. For women around the world, it was a moment of celebration.

But for a specific group of women who forged careers against the odds as pro surfers on tours where they were repeatedly told they didn’t belong, it had even more resonance. For them, this was news to cry over – happily.

At last, the equality and recognition they fought for was finally here, even if it’s a new generation that reaps the rewards.

Wendy Botha surfing Off The Wall on the North Shore of Oahu in Hawaii Photo: joliphotos.com

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Girls Can’t Surf is a new Australian documentary that tracks the careers and challenges of the wave of women pro-surfers that came on the scene in the early 1980s, including Frieda Zamba, Jodie Cooper, Wendy Botha and Pam Burridge, before working up to the likes of Lisa Andersen and Layne Beachley who would go on to dominate in the 1990s.

It’s the story of being told by their male counterparts that they will “never be as good as men, and that’s the same in any sport”, and not backing down.

While the men were feted with adulation, lucrative sponsorship contracts, magazine covers and proper representation, the women slept in hire cars, sometimes paid a ratio of 1:10 if at all and were often relegated as a sideshow to even the swimsuit competition.

They faced repeated attempts to be kicked off the tour completely so that the little prize money they eked out could be further shared among the male competitors.

The culture of rampant sexism and disrespect would be all the more shocking if it wasn’t also completely unsurprising.

Girls Can’t Surf is a fascinating entry into that world, especially if you haven’t spent the past three decades following the drama. But an entry is all it is.

If you consider Girls Can’t Surf as an oral history from the women on tour, then it’s much easier going because what it’s not is a deep dive into a sport that devalued their contributions and the culture that fuelled it.

Girls Can’t Surf frequently hit on issues and events that made a pro surfing career near impossible but then dodges it as fast it can.

Jodie Cooper’s revelation that she was outed as gay against her choice by the women on tour with her and the homophobia that followed was ultimately glossed over, without any reckoning for the individuals responsible. Ditto Pam Burridge’s recounting of her battles with anorexia.

When the documentary touches on the successful attempt to have the female representation on the governing body reduced from two seats to one, there’s no accounting for who on that board voted in favour of the resolution.

It’s also hinted that many of the women didn’t like or support each other at the time and maybe wouldn’t even take a call from them now, but that’s all between the lines.

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Wendy Botha and Pam Burridge in their pro surfing days.

Maybe there were legal entanglements that prevented director Christopher Nelius from naming names, or maybe the filmmakers were trying to play nice and keep everyone in the surfing community on side.

But blanket sentiments that some men said and did some unpleasant things, that some of the women were likely wronged by their female contemporaries without the specifics of who, doesn’t serve these women, or the audience.

Girls Can’t Surf wants to be celebratory and empowering, and that is fine, but it’s also what makes it ultimately a shallow documentary that feels like the introductory summary of a book with many chapters to follow.

If only it was as fearless as the women riding those monster waves.

Rating: 3/5

Girls Can’t Surf is in cinemas now

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