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1. #GAIA PROJECT RACE BOARDS HOW TO#
2. #GAIA PROJECT RACE BOARDS PRO#
3. #GAIA PROJECT RACE BOARDS PROFESSIONAL#
4. #GAIA PROJECT RACE BOARDS CRACK#

#GAIA PROJECT RACE BOARDS CRACK#

No doubt it took Gay-Rees and Martin a few tries to crack the couple, but ultimately they did. Instead of letting Brunet glaze over such a loaded statement, as would very well be the case in a WSL-led production, the interviewer stops Brunet and asks her to explain.

#GAIA PROJECT RACE BOARDS PRO#

(And also that he is quite possibly pro surfing’s best dad.)īut the truest sign that Make or Break is something different, something better, comes when Yasmin Brunet, wife of three-time world champion and Brazilian icon Gabriel Medina, says how incredible it is that Medina was able to win a third world title after the year that he and Brunet had just endured. (“I’m just playing the game,” a defiant Tatiana Weston-Webb later responds to the camera.) That Brazilian Filipe Toledo, who for the past few years has been overshadowed by two of his own countrymen and friends, has been battling depression. That American Sage Erickson, heretofore marketed by sponsors and the WSL as a delicate, unruffled soul, is capable of unleashing cutting verbal lashings on competitors who have pulled less than sportsmanlike maneuvers in a heat.

“ Make or Break is a reality show set within the grind and turmoil of the, and as a viewer, to my eyes anyway, that grind and turmoil is bliss compared to the smiley brain-dead presentation we get from the WSL itself.”įor example, we learn that South African Tour rookie Matt McGillivray sometimes sleeps in his truck in order to have enough money to afford his dream job-the big paychecks only go to the Tour’s few top surfers. “It is not even about riding waves, exactly,” writes Matt Warshaw, a surfing historian and author of the Sunday Joint newsletter.

#GAIA PROJECT RACE BOARDS HOW TO#

How to do that? In the case of Make or Break, it meant bucking one of the cardinal rules of old-school surf journalism: pulling the lens away from the water. In both, the key to success has been making an obscure sport relatable to a wider, nonexpert audience. Gay-Rees and Martin’s hit Netflix docuseries Formula 1: Drive to Survive was the model for Make or Break.

#GAIA PROJECT RACE BOARDS PROFESSIONAL#

In the independent hands of Box to Box Films, a London-based production company led by Oscar-winning producer James Gay-Rees and BAFTA-nominated producer Paul Martin, Make or Break paints a refreshingly messy picture of professional surfing life. While the project was done in partnership with the WSL, a “WSL Studios” logo is nowhere to be found, and this distance is a blessing. It features big names like world champions Kelly Slater and Stephanie Gilmore, as well as pro surfers who most casual fans have probably never heard of, like Morgan Cibilic and Leonardo Fioravanti. It appears, however, that the WSL has achieved some redemption with its recent involvement in Apple TV+’s Make or Break, a seven-part docuseries released in April that recounts the competitive and personal triumphs and travails of a group of women and men competing on the 2021 WSL Championship Tour. Not long after, the curtains quietly closed on WSL Studios. Instead, it ended up with a generally amiable cast of young pros, many of whom had been pals since their amateur days and were unwilling to appease producers’ appetite for drama. WSL Studios’ first mainstream effort was The Ultimate Surfer, a competition-based reality show that debuted in 2021 and sought the kind of back-biting narrative made essential by Survivor. However, there were doubts, because the WSL has long long been averse to supporting filmmakers and other outside media that might depict the league in any tint but rose.

So when the World Surf League, pro surfing’s governing body, announced in 2019 that it had created a content division called WSL Studios “to connect with established and up-and-coming filmmakers, award-winning and innovative new producers, as well as experienced production companies,” there was cautious hope that a new generation of surf filmography was on the horizon. Surf films are often no less inaccessible-they tend to be made by surfers, leading to work that is more navel-gazing than probing. Or it could be the simple fact that, while surfing is well-known around the world today, it’s still only available to a lucky few. It could be the fault of surfers themselves, who, when asked to describe the basic pursuit of riding waves, will often devolve into the babble of a religious zealot. For a sport with roots that run centuries deep, surfing has been comically misunderstood by mainstream pop culture.