Dogtown and Z-Boys is blessed with archival stills and footage taken by photojournalists Craig Stecyk and Glen E. Friedman showing the Z-Boys first as surfers, then as backyard "urban guerillas" during a statewide drought that hit California in the early '70s. The severe water shortage caused some homeowners to drain their pools, leading the Z-Boys to inventing the "vert" (vertical half-pipe), taking their skateboards up along the sides of a concrete pool's deep end: emulating surf gods in oceans of industry. In the film's best sequence, Peralta edits and superimposes images of legendary surfer Larry Bertleman cutting a wave over images of the Z-Boys mimicking the man's style in those pools and on the asphalt crests of Dogtown's schools, where giant canals had been created in an attempt to even the rolling landscape.

The real heart of Dogtown and Z-Boys comes in the documentation of the ferocious graffiti that festooned the concrete ruins of the tribalistic Z-Boys' stomping ground ("locals only") before it became the basis for the designs of decorating Jeff Ho and Craig Stecyk's legendary Zephyr Shop surfboards. The graffiti is a revelation because Peralta's film suggests that the skateboarders themselves were creating a kind of inner city revolt, utilizing the sterile architecture of man in the twentieth century as every bit the canvas for dissidence as the graffitists who came before them. Like the images of those spray-paint Rembrandts, the Z-Boys eventually were hijacked by industry and corporate sponsorship, victims of their own visibility and success.

Dogtown and Z-Boys is as flamboyantly executed as the Z-Boys' aerial exploits, invoking blithe rebel fantasy with the kind of insouciance embedded in the sexy demise of James Dean. Like Peralta himself, the most successful of the Z-Boys in the years following their heyday, the film betrays a surplus of intelligence and passion. Dogtown and Z-Boys makes believers out of squares, presents a compelling socio-political education as it entertains, and best of all, motivates you to go down to the store to buy a skateboard, some Vans, and a helmet to recapture a little of that lost impetuousness of youth. It's distilled adolescence seasoned with proper portions of nostalgia, bottled with craft and served cool. Drink deep, it's the fountain of reckless creation and we could all use a little of its inspiration.-Walter Chaw

Sony reissues Dogtown and Z-Boys on DVD in a Deluxe Edition cross-promoting Lords of Dogtown, the long-awaited biopic based on the exploits of the Zephyr skating team. Much of the bonus material that's been added to the previous line-up of supplements for this release therefore specifically pertains to Lords of Dogtown, although the hardcore demo will be more interested in--if ultimately underwhelmed by--the addition of a 2-minute slideshow of Pat Darrin photographs from 1974 (snapped at the "Bricknell Hill Session"), a silent Super8 reel (2 mins.) of Jeff Ho showing off new surfboards outside his Oahu workshop in 2000, and a 3-minute video of Stacy Peralta, Scott Juergens, and Dogtown and Z-Boys editor Paul Crowder (explicitly labelled a "rookie" as though his moves aren't a dead giveaway) horsing around on their skateboards in the reservoir behind Mar Vista School between editing sessions.

For what it's worth, over-the-hill skateboarders are in better shape than most grumpy old athletes, something that's abundantly clear in the "Lords of Dogtown Sneak Peek" (6 mins.), wherein 47-year-old ex-Zephyr Tony Alva looks fit enough to double for the young punks of the feature film's cast. (Indeed, according to reports, he did that very thing.) We discover that Lords of Dogtown helmer Catherine Hardwicke (thirteen) grew up in Dogtown, which isn't half as surprising as Hardwicke's ability to get through her intro to the "Lords of Dogtown Webisodes" (6 mins.) without once saying "like" or "y'know." Originally produced as Internet-exclusive content, this block of featurettes finds the real-life Skip Engblom interacting with personally-requested onscreen avatar Heath Ledger (Engbloom admits that Jack Black's name was brought up in casting sessions) and artist Jim Muir--in a piece rendered all but unwatchable by a patronizing mix of ADD editing and ersatz grain--explaining the genesis of his iconic Zephyr board designs. Aesthetics aside, a nice balance of the promotional and the educational.

Extras carried over from 2002's Special Edition DVD include a 3-minute "Alternate Ending" in which Alva partakes in a modern-day "pool session" with successors to the throne like Lance Mountain, as well as the "Freestyle Experience," a 'white rabbit' viewing mode that opens the door to outtakes (a.k.a. "raw footage") whenever a particular glyph appears onscreen. (This option unfortunately disables subtitles.) Also recycled is the fullscreen, direct-from-tape transfer--which, considering the variety of media involved, is both impeccably encoded and impossible to appraise with any objectivity. Apart from throwing some projector noise over the shoulders during the opening credits, the Dolby Digital 5.0 audio feels more like stereo, albeit richly-recorded stereo. Peralta and the British Crowder's amiable film-length commentary from the older disc resurfaces here, and though they're spinning their wheels by about two-thirds of the way in (i.e. once two-time FILM FREAK CENTRAL interviewee Peralta returns to the exhausted subject of Wentzle Ruml's sidesplitting Q&A), the years have not diluted the integrity of this comprehensive yakker. Trailers for Dogtown and Z-Boys, Riding Giants, Lords of Dogtown, xXx Deluxe Edition, Boogeyman, D.E.B.S., and The Cave round out the platter, while the keepcase packaging contains a free ticket to see Lords of Dogtown.-Bill Chambers

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