Modern Love

The entire cast of Modern Collective comes out to Hollywood for the World Premiere

It began at the Roosevelt Hotel. It would also end at the Roosevelt. But we’re not there yet. We’re in Hollywood. With Mitch Coleborn and the Volcom army. Twenty party bus-charged surfers walking into the swank lobby of the hotel. We’re waiting to be seated for dinner before the big show. The one we’ve been waiting for. The Hollywood premiere of Modern Collective. The one with all the stars.

Everyone’s in town. Dane. Jordy. Yadin. Mitch. Dion. And Kai. (All except Dusty, who couldn’t make it because of a contest.) We run into Dion Agius in the lobby. Paul Fisher. A gaggle of other shredders. Gabe Kling. Benny B. Craig Anderson. We soon learn we’re not alone. We’ve timed this showing with the AFI (American Film Institute) Film Fest. It’s going on at the same hotel. People are staring. Only we’re staring back, because most of them are beautiful movie stars. We drink. Toast. Volcom’s team leader Mike Guarino gives a lovely cheers to Mitch and his year. Probably because we know exactly who the f—k Mitch Coleborn is now. And we decided we’re fans. Volcom has brought us here to this lovely dinner — where the menus (I kid you not), read: For Mitch: We love you — YOU BITCH! We eat. Toast. And enjoy the fruits of everyone’s labor and for the general joy of everyone at the table.

Jordy Smith strolls into the lobby, commanding attention. He’s wearing a royal blue leather jacket. A sweatshirt hood sticking out the back. “I’ve got a guy at home who makes these for me,” Jordy says after taking a shot with Craig Anderson. “I’ve got every color. You can pick the color, the leather feel, the style. It’s sick, bru.” Jordy is awesome.

From there we take to the street. Hollywood Blvd. We walk upon the stars of Hollywood. Burt Reynolds. Ed McMahon. Dolly Parton. Stars of the past. Jordy trudges over them. We’re a parade en route to the venue at Le Deux.

Upon arrival we are met with a pair of custom, white Skullcandy headphones and a pager-sized receiver. This is interesting. The vodka is free and the music is good. Dane and Courtney are here. Courtney is already dancing. We love her. Everyone begins to grease the hinges. Then the music stops. A countdown begins. Five minutes. The Skullcandy’s go on and all 350 people in attendance peer at the screen hanging from the quaint and cozy atrium’s ceiling.

It’s the final time anyone in attendance sees surfing the same way.

The headphones pulsate. People are nodding to the beats. Mesmerized. All 350 people transfixed on the screen. If you remove the headphones, you’re in dead air. Silence. On screen Kai has pieced together surfing celluloid like never before. Using his soon-to-be-patented-and-emulated Kai Neville style — very Guy Ritchie in Snatch and Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels. The edits are fast and choppy, but they tell a story. Short and to the point. Stories we don’t normally see, too. Travel. Parties. Dancing. And the Dane shot we talked about before — the one that defines his surf celebrity. And then there’s the surfing. So much of it it’s tough to digest at first. Onshore=Offshore. All set to an electro-laden mood cruise.

No surfer has his own part. It’s all very refreshing. The highlight would have to be the Modern Blood old sea session featuring Craig Anderson, Jordy Smith and Mitch Coleborn. It’s a windblown right. Not even a wave by most standards. But what is accomplished on that crummy onshore air bowl will give you anxiety. Good anxiety. The kind that comes with one too many at dinner with a flirty-eyed blonde.

And then it ends. Credits roll and you catch your breath, wanting it to be taken away again. Dane’s girl Courtney starts moving and instigates what will become the dance floor. At some point Mitch makes it back to the Roosevelt and the movie stars are staring again. Only this time because he’s the star.

My, what fun we’ve had.

[Be sure to get out and see Modern Collective on the big screen when it comes to your town. And start a dance party while you’re there.]