A Sport, A Culture, A Life

Annika Ranin and Sean Fee’s quietly flawless documentary Boarders charts the journeys of four British skateboarders as they prepare for the sport’s first showcase as an Olympic sport, a topic of huge contention given the practice’s pure and authentic underground roots.

Where there’s money to be made in something, you can be sure to find a polite business proposal just around the corner. From camping to dive bars, the world seems to be getting increasingly ‘astroturfed’. It’s an apt word to describe how movements, cultural corners, or products that originally appeared as cutting edge and organic eventually get the ‘Starbuck’ treatment. Analysed by spreadsheet designers, dismantled by managing consultants, and put back together by manufacturers on a mass scale, these endeavours seek to make profit by cashing in on our preference for the personal and the exciting.

An accurate angle taken by football fans on the encroachment of multi-billion pound foreign investment and control of the game is that the fans are the ones who are paying the price as the ticket costs soar and the culture becomes diluted with more and more advertising, PR stunts and astronomical player wages. But what about skateboarding? With football, there are a handful of national (the FA in Britain) and international (FIFA and UEFA) organisations that you can point the finger at for the bloating and plundering of the sport and culture, but skateboarding’s very history and appeal has grass roots and an absence of authority baked into it.

Skateboarding has been no stranger to monetisation, since its beginnings sponsors and the media have both profited from and helped promote it, but as we pulled into the 90s, we began seeing skateboarding showcased more and more at mass audience events, hitting its peak in the (inarguably brilliant) skill and business acumen of skating’s posterboy Tony Hawk. The announcement that the sport would make its Olympic debut in Tokyo this year both enraged and enthralled fans alike, but for many the news was met with a tired sigh and a shrug, seeing it as the natural conclusion to a decades-long drive by boardroom curiosity to ‘Starbuck skateboarding’.

The announcement that skateboarding would become an Olympic sport enraged and enthralled fans alike…

As the athletes themselves began to set their sights on Tokyo, either begrudgingly or hopefully, documentary director Annika Ranin decided to capture the view from inside Britain. She tells us about her initial response to the Olympic announcement and what she learned from the skaters themselves, and in turn what we can learn from a subculture that’s typified by generosity, courage and determination, community, boundless energy, and, in every single case, danger. This translates perfectly on screen through the participation of Jordan Thackeray (Colchester), Sam Beckett (Norfolk), Alex Hallford (Nottingham) and Alex Decunha (Marlborough).

Jordan Thackeray

Sam Beckett

Alex Hallford

Alex Dechuna

whynow: What was your initial reaction, Annika, to skateboarding joining the Olympics, and when did you decide to start planning a film on it? 

Annika: I immediately heard the pushback from some pockets of the skate community. That’s what I found interesting rather than the announcement, because it’s a really relatable position to take, that you have this thing that you love and want to protect from outside commercial influences that you don’t know anything about. There’s a lot to be said about the Olympics in all sorts of ways, even just how expensive they are and how much institutional power they have. But I do think that skateboarding can benefit in some ways from the inclusion in the Olympics, but I also understand people’s rejection of that. 

whynow: It would be narrow minded of us to focus only on the commercialisation aspect that the documentary explores, because this film is so much more than that. One thing that really shone for us was the physical effects that skateboarders’ lifestyles have on their body, from their injuries to their diet. It’s something I’ve always observed in skaters! Gallons of high sugar fruit juice and fried, high carb foods consumed all day every day, but burned off in a second because the activity is so physically demanding. 

There’s a part where Jordan’s stood by a reservoir and has a big, cheap carton of apple juice in his pocket. It seems it doesn’t matter where in the world you are, skateboarders live like this! 

Annika: I always thought about that as well, like of course he had to have the one-pound apple juice! From the get-go it was clear to me that all of the guys we featured in the film have interesting things to say, especially about their health and athleticism. What was really important for us was to represent these guys authentically and the health and diet aspect of their lives in relation to skateboarding was something that came up all the time. 

whynow: These guys come across as so genuine, so accessible, it’s interesting to think whether skating makes them like this or if they’re drawn to skating because this is naturally part of their personality. With that said, what lessons can we learn from skateboarders?

Annika: When they’re kids skateboarders learn key lessons: pick yourself up when you fall, wait for your turn, keep going and persevering, keep being brave and have courage. There’s also this brilliant aspect of it that comes from just playing, exploring a new city and looking at its spaces  in a new way. During Covid we saw all the streets empty and it was a very, very depressing view against that backdrop, But skateboarding in urban places with boarders using cities in creative ways is something that we can all cherish and hope that can continue, and we move away from this idea that cities are only meant for people to walk around and tap their cards at machines.

When they’re kids, skateboarders learn key lessons: pick yourself up when you fall, wait your turn, keep persevering, have courage.

Towards the end of the film Sam Beckett talks about the need to be fluid. Things do change and as long as you keep doing what you love then that’s a good place to be. Overall, that’s an attitude that we can all take into life. Many people look back at skating from their glory days when they were 16, whether it be in the 80s, 90s, or 2000s, and they say, ‘That’s the best time for skating! That’s when it was most rad!’ but really things are just as good as long as the people love doing what they do.

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