‘The Surfer’ Leaves Nicolas Cage Stranded at Worst Possible Time

“The Surfer” is its own worst enemy.

Give Nicolas Cage the kind of out-sized role that nobody does better.
Set up a grossly unfair conflict that screams for a kinetic, “Mandy”-sized finale.
And, midway through, suggest we might not get what we’re expecting.

What’s not to love? Plenty.

“The Surfer’s” epic collapse wouldn’t be so maddening if we hadn’t been set up for an epic Cage tale even by his curious standards.

Cage stars as The Surfer, a separated father eager to introduce his son to the Australian beach where he once made waves. The teen (Finn Little) isn’t interested in Dad’s plan, a bad sign that quickly grows worse.

The locals don’t take kindly to strangers surfing their waves. This motley crew is led by Julian McMahon of “Nip/Tuck” fame. They’re a rambunctious bunch, loud and bullying, and the Surfer has no choice but to ditch his plans.

Except he refuses to leave the scene. He’s thisclose to buying a home on the beach, and he may need to up his offer to seal the deal. It’s clear Cage’s character has sizable baggage floating on the roiling waves, and we learn his tortured backstory piece by piece.

Turns out the torture has only begun.

A series of indignities greet our sad surfer, and we start to wonder what’s real and what’s lurking in his imagination.

Director Lorcan Finnegan (“Vivarium”) suggests our Surfer isn’t the most reliable narrator. The film’s visuals double down on that approach, keeping us off-balance, and even woozy. You might wipe imaginary sweat off your brow as sunshine floods the screen, courtesy of Radek Ladczuk’s bleak cinematography.

Creepy closeups. Distorted lenses. And, of course, an increasingly disheveled Surfer. The only sadder sack on the beach is a homeless man who gets bullied by the same thugs making the surfer’s life miserable.

Where is it all going? What’s Finnegan and co. trying to say? It’s easy to suss out the story’s toxic masculinity angle, but to what end?

Midway through, the surfer’s suffering starts to lose its appeal. This is like a torture porn movie without the bloodshed, but “The Surfer” must have something in mind for the third act.

Not really. The story takes a stupefying term meant to explain much of what preceded it, and it crumbles upon even a cursory glance. It also demolishes some of the themes “The Surfer” delicately assembles.

Fatherhood. Generational trauma. Regret. Loss. Rebirth.

Yes, Cage can be delicate in his performances in between scenery gnashing. That’s the case here, and he doesn’t deserve the blame for the story’s implosion. This script is lost at sea when it matters most.

What a shame.

Much of “The Surfer” is the kind of bracing, authentic storytelling we crave in cookie-cutter Hollywood. That makes its failure all the more confounding.

HiT or Miss: “The Surfer” is a full-on fever dream headed by the best actor possible for the gig. What a shame it crumbles just when we think it’ll soar.

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