Bra Boys and a sweet old lady

In Sydney, Australia’s surfside suburb Marouba lives the Abberton brothers’ legacy of riding waves and trampling civility. They are the core of the infamous Bra Boys (R), a gang preferring to be considered a tribe whose violations of law and propriety are preservations of their culture, not criminal acts.

Who says? The co-creator of Bra Boys who happens to be oldest brother Sunny Abberton. Starting with an unconvincing link to Marouba’s historical past, the Abbertons and their surfing cronies are constantly posed as misunderstood free spirits. The mind-altering binges, reckless behavior and a murder charge all have some bogus rationalization in Abberton’s view.

It isn’t surprising that Russell Crowe with his bad boy image feels connected to the Abberton brothers, providing narration here and plans for a dramatic feature film on the subject. Crowe’s listless line readings suggest his involvement is part of the deal rather than a labor of love.

Like the superior Dogtown and Z-Boys a few years ago, Bra Boys depends chiefly upon home movies, less tightly edited and more blurry in this movie. A more amateurish look is seldom seen in theaters. Even sloppiness might be excused if Abberton weren’t so obviously self-serving to his clan. Brother Jai is charged with killing a drug dealer and the slant becomes too steep for credibility; even if he’s innocent, conviction could be payback for any number of infractions.

The surfing sequences are impressive as any footage in Australia’s waves should be, and the Abbertons’ rebellious nature may appeal to some viewers. But Bra Boys plays like a character reference at a sentencing hearing after the defendant pleads guilty; easy to see through and tough to believe.

Harrison Ford is still a blockbusting swashbuckler at 66 while the Young@Heart chorus of rocking seniors swings out singing. So, what about actor/bon vivant Mimi Weddell deserves a movie besides surviving to age 93?

Director Jyll Johnstone can’t find a concrete answer in her documentary Hats Off despite a decade’s access to Weddell’s routine of chasing down bit parts and modeling gigs. Sure, it’s a kick to see her flipping through gymnastics classes, and being named one of New York’s 50 most beautiful people is a neat twist on that distinction. Anyone defying expectations of aging is at least momentarily interesting.

But Johnstone settles for the sheer novelty of Weddell’s existence, unlike the Young@Heart documentary currently in theaters making stylish longevity seem within anyone’s reach. Hats Off suggests it’s Weddell’s way or nothing, and she’s an exception to the mortality rule.

Viewers may recognize Weddell from her brief appearances on TV’s Sex and the City and Law and Order, and films such as Across the Universe, Hitch and Broken Flowers. Her brittle physical appearance is deceiving but suitable for roles poking fun at seniors. Johnstone doesn’t inquire much about that image, nor does she delve into the slight embarrassment Weddell’s family suggests in interviews.

Without such insight, Hats Off is merely an overlong version of what could be a brief human interest segment on the evening news.