“Taste some of Mama’s home cookin’, Adolf!”

Justin’s rating: All the slow-mo surfing footage in the world

Justin’s review: I want to let you know that it’s with the most extreme of reluctance that I venture back into Troma Studios’ domain. This obnoxious outfit taught me what trashy exploitation was before I knew that there was a term for it, and I cannot think of any of Troma’s filmography that I’d hold up as worthy to see. Heck, most of it isn’t worthy to be seen holding.

But could I resist the title of Surf Nazis Must Die? Is there a great moral here that lurks above the waves and below the California sun? Probably not. I’ll probably regret viewing this, just like I regret eating spicy food about four hours later in the bathroom.

An earthquake in the future disrupts life in what I assume to be California, and gangs rise to fill the power vacuum left by the fleeing law enforcement — especially on the beaches. It seems as good a time as any for Nazis to make another play for domination, with folks named Adolf and Mengele bringing back the Third Reich but with a surfer slant.

Not really sure what the crossover is there. Did Hitler surf? Did he have aspirations of winning the California Games? If so, they didn’t teach us that in history class.

I couldn’t get over what a piece of work that their leader, Adolf, is. We learn that his real name is Ricky Johnson and that he used to be an economics major, and that plus his “boy’s first mustache” look explains why he might feel the need to overcompensate by being a homicidal gang leader.

Just in case you might harbor any sympathies for the Surf Nazis, they roll out the swastika in every other scene and terrorize anyone who comes near. That includes poor Leroy, a jogger who gets too close to the neo-Nazi territory and pays for it with his life.

This absolutely infuriates Leroy’s mother, a large rebellious lady named Mama, who makes it her life’s mission to fulfill this movie’s title. From then on out, this becomes a revenge flick with all the expected beats of violence and catharsis.

We do get a bit of tussling between the rival beach gangs, each of whom has their own theme (skateboarding, Valley Dudes, ninjas, etc) as in The Warriors. But ultimately, there’s a whole lot of wasted time as the film stalls and draws things out before Mama gets her revenge train chugging down the tracks. It’s not the best-paced movie, with about 20 minutes of real plot scraped over 80 minutes.

The best part of Surf Nazis Must Die is, oddly enough, the synth soundtrack that evokes some of the best of John Carpenter’s thrillers.

The whole production is a little less garish and crazy than I’d normally associate with a Troma flick, but it still is an exploitation flick in the end. I would say this holds little value other than being surface-level entertainment for people looking for kooky outfits, ridiculous characters, and the culture clash between Nazi subculture and surfers.

I didn’t like it much, but I will say this: I hated it less than I normally hate Troma flicks. Perhaps that means something.

Intermission!

• “Goofy footers are an inferior breed!”
• Swastikas on kids’ cheeks
• I’ll give it this: The opening titles and world building montage is very well done
• Giant curved hand-blades are perfect for scratching an itch. And cooking meat over a fire.
• “Five-card stud, we gonna have some fun.”
• “I am the Fuhrer of the new beach!”
• The meeting of the beach gangs, very thematic
• They really drug up the residents at this nursing home
• Hooks make quite a mess
• Adolf’s real name is “Ricky Johnson.” He was an economics major. What a dweeb.
• Burning surfboards, oh no
• Decapitation via boat propeller