Did the world need a documentary about the iconic video game series, Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater? Probably not, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t value in one existing. Pretending I’m a Superman isn’t groundbreaking or even especially well put together, but it is fun – and for this old, beat-up skater, fun is enough.
Growing up a perpetual outsider, my interests were rarely reflected in popular culture. Punk rock and skateboarding – if they were depicted at all – were often shown as something only freaks and miscreants took part in. As a young punk and skater in the early-’90s, harassment and the threat of violence were everyday occurrences. If I had a nickel for every time I was called “faggot” from a moving car window, small-town hick, or high school substitute teacher, I’d be well on my way to a carefree lifestyle now – never mind all the times my friends and I had to fight our way out of run-ins with roving gangs of half-drunk jocks. It might seem crazy now, but being a skater used to be extremely dangerous.
What changed everything wasn’t a mass cultural shift based on acceptance and tolerance, no. The X-Games helped, but mostly it was a goddamned video game that pacified the rage of culturally-stifled American conformity. When Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater hit the shelves in 1999, skateboarding was suddenly cool – or at least not something to get beat up over anymore – and, personally, I had a hard time coming to terms with that. I’d spent the entirety of my teenage years fighting, and I wasn’t about to let my guard down simply because some jock didn’t call me a faggot. In short, I resented the game for changing my culture from “us vs. them” to “all aboard.” I’d put in the time. These gaming posers hadn’t.
But, of course there was no stopping the tide. Skateboarding was now for everybody, which in retrospect was a far better option than keeping it locked away with a bunch of jaded bruisers. And I’ll admit, I’ve had countless hours of fun playing THPS over the years – usually while dead broke and stuck in a cold punk house with nothing to do but drink and pass the time with what’s best available. I’m not sure that’s what Mr. Hawk and the designers had in mind when creating their game, but I’d like to thank them on behalf of punk house residents everywhere all the same.
The best part about Pretending I’m a Superman isn’t the story of how the game was developed and marketed, but the ebbs and flows of skateboarding’s popularity from the 1970s to the present. As an enthusiast and veteran of the culture – and having lived through its most violently opposed era – the film’s first-hand accounts from industry luminaries like Hawk, Rodney Mullen, Christian Hosoi, and Steve Caballero are easily nostalgic for those who survived skating’s dark days. Chad Muska’s recollections of making instant friends in new towns based on shared experiences and unspoken common ground will bring a smile to the face of even the angriest among us, while Mullen goes full philosopher about how the world has changed for the better.
Things get less interesting as the film drones on about the game itself, but there’s still some interesting insight to be found as the culture shifts from the streets to the living room – and then back again. Noticeably absent is an in-depth look at how the game’s music exposed countless kids to new bands and ideas. Members of Goldfinger and Bad Religion comment on how their contributions to the soundtrack helped draw new fans but it isn’t enough to satisfy this old punk. If you’re anything like me, you can’t hear “Police Truck” by Dead Kennedys and not think of THPS – a concept that should have been more deeply explored. I wonder if they asked Jello Biafra for comment?
Skaters and gaming fans alike will likely have no serious objection to Pretending I’m a Superman, but I would have preferred a grittier approach than the one presented. The film captures the spirit of video game culture and development, but doesn’t quite drive home the ownership and pride felt by skaters. It does get close in its early scenes, but harnessing the intangibility of skateboarding is a difficult task. If you’re looking for a deeper understanding of skating and the lifestyle it spawns, look to Stacy Peralta’s Dogtown and Z-Boys (2001) or Bones Brigade: An Autobiography (2012). But, if you’d prefer something lighter and has a more pronounced crossover into pop-culture, you could do worse than Pretending I’m a Superman.
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James is a writer, skateboarder, record collector, wrestling nerd, and tabletop gamer living with his family in Asheville, North Carolina. He is a member of the Southeastern Film Critics Association, the North Carolina Film Critics Association, and contributes to The Daily Orca, Razorcake Magazine, Mountain Xpress, and Asheville Movies.