Any skateboarder worth his Mark Gonzalez knows that their favorite skater’s favorite video is Plan B’s Questionable. Featuring skateboard lifers like Matt Hensley, Rodney Mullen, Pat Duffy, and Mike Carroll. Every skater cool enough not to wear a helmet at the skatepark has seen it.

I was stunned when I found out that my twenty-something co-worker at SASS had seen the light and decided to “become a freeskier” without having seen 13. That’s like me seeing the light and deciding to become a freeskier without having seen State of Mind. I remember watching 13 on the last day of the season when I was in middle school; it was my first time seeing a twin-tip ski, and by the time I’d seen CR (RIP) nearly stick a cork 1260, I was out in the yard trying to slide a shovel handle on my mogul skis.

Any little ninja who can grab blunt has seen a Jiberish edit or downloaded Refresh when they finally put their damn movie on iTunes, but it takes a true OG to know how to work the tracking on a VHS player well enough to watch the classics.

So go on young’en, find a tape deck on Ebay, harass the film companies for their backstock, and get yourself learned so the next time you ask JP Auclair for an autograph you’ll know what obscure trick from his long career to compliment him on in exchange for him writing “You da man!” on your stupid poster.

13

The word: Johnny’s last pre-16 mm film and my all-time favorite.  Now three different race skis with raised tails exist, but plenty of people are still in the pipe with straight Harts.  There’s also one guy who never wears a shirt and looks like he spends a lot of time waiting outside of high schools with binoculars (Josh Loubek).

The why: Mike D. doing misty flips to a Metallica song about raping mothers and killing babies.  Candide’s film debut and still his best trick ever (flat 7 mute over the High North quarterpipe).  Philou Poirer’s massive switch backflips in the Whistler park, in sunglasses, after pounding six plates of home fries.  JF Cusson’s bio 9, switch misty 7 in the backcountry, and straight backflips to switch 15 feet out of a halfpipe with walls that barely reached above his chest.  Trennon Paynter’s alley-oop double flip in a quarter pipe on Harts.  Hammers that stand the test of time.

Balance

The word: The infant East Coast park scene in complete ska-rock disarray. The beginning of Scott Hibbert’s long career of killing himself, including an attempted 1260 in a melting Killington halfpipe with six-foot walls that nearly decapitates Josh Berman. Eric Hjorliefson ripping cork 9’s on the Whistler glacier with spikes coming out of his A-frames, and a host of other pros who probably didn’t realize Berman was filming them at COC.  Terrible, terrible music.

The why: Suffering through Level 1’s first offering will grant you true OG status: Balance is a headache-inducing exercise in repeat shots, split-screen mirrored tricks, and a too-typically early millennium soundtrack of angsty ska that will leave you disoriented and seeing stars.  Lord knows what Berman’s boatshoe-sporting classmates at Ye Olde Dartmouthe must have thought.  That’s not to undermine a few bright spots of talent in Garrett Brittain (flat 3 mutes), Josh Novotny, Rory Tuscany, and one of my favorites, Rory Will. Rory spends the movie DESTROYING the pipe before anyone knew how to do that, with eighteen foot alley-oops out of the old Sunday River halfpipe, in a visor.  And who can’t appreciate the Schrab brothers throwing double misty 1440s off the windlip behind the Horstman Glacier with no shirts on?  Take that, Bobby Brown.

Continuum

The word: In the spring of 1995, the Jones brothers, along with Dirk Collins and Corey Gavitt eat mushrooms and go to a yard sale in Jackson, and wake up the next day with a baby crib full of old toasters and a beat-up 16 mm Bolex camera.  After letting their pony tails grow all summer, the crew decides to take the camera around Jackson and burn or overexpose thousands of dollars in film.  As the season develops, the “designated filmer” idea comes along, where after drawing straws, the one with the small straw is left only a small amount of ganj for the day, ensuring he holds the camera right-side up with the subject in focus.  They manage to put together enough footage to make a movie (All completely unverified and likely untrue, but nobody at TGR would get back to us).

The why: TGR’s first offering with some of big-mountain skiing’s best talents before they were very sponsored.  Doug Coombs opens it up to a scratchy live version of “Trenchtown Rock” while skiing an impossibly steep Teton line.  Every single person in the film wears Steeptech in yellow, the flagship color of 90’s skiing.  All the Jones brothers were sending it before they figured out who was better at filming and who could only manage to ski.  The world is introduced to endless monologues about dropping everything and moving to ski towns, the purity of skiing powder, etc. etc.  Shot way before Jackson dropped their ropes, Continuum features lots of entertaining shots of Micah Black and the crew ducking ropes at full speed, airing the cliff right next to the lift, and straight-lining it out before ski patrol can get their Super Force 9’s down there as the filmer remains hidden the woods.

Blizzard of Aahhh’s

The word: Mike Hattrup, Scott Schmidt, and Glen Plake ripping in 1988; enough said.  No one wore hats skiing, or even knew what a helmet was.  Glen Plake, introduced as a “Mohican terrorist,” had just gotten out of prison, was lightyears away from hosting RSN. Hell, he had only recently given up stealing cars to rappel down chutes in Chamonix with a mohawk and a necklace made of wristwatches.  No one made a ski shorter than a 215 or wider than 70 in the waist.  Frankie Goes to Hollywood features prominently in the soundtrack, and moustaches are worn without irony.

The why: There’s a reason used copies are going for a hundred dollars on Amazon; this is one of the most ground-breaking films in ski history and has inspired legions of otherwise career-minded individuals to drop out of school, give their parents the finger, and move to a filthy ski town.  Schmidt ripping hop turns down the backside of the Aguille du Midi where no one had ever skied before.  Plake and Hattrup sending it off cliffs in pastel one-pieces, or following each other down couloirs with a ten-pound camera drilled to the side of a motorcycle helmet.  Bump lines in Cham, Telluride, and Squaw.  Quite simply a film that could not have been made at any other time with any other group of skiers.  This shit is true OG.