Drugs, groupies, and murder--Helen Stickler's documentary about Mark "Gator" Rogowski is an unflinching study of fame gone terribly wrong. Featuring candid interviews with Ed Templeton, Tony Hawk, Lance Mountain, Steve Caballero, Mike Vallely, and others, Stoked captures the '80s skateboard scene in its full, flawed neon glory and provides insight for anyone who is even remotely interested in the history of skateboarding or the commodification of street culture. How did the San Diego-based pro skater end up bludgeoning a 21-year-old party girl to death? Find out when Stickler's sometimes uncomfortable but always on-target movie opens in New York on August 22 and on the West Coast on August 29, hitting Chicago, Atlanta, and St. Louis in the weeks that follow.
GR: What attracted you to the story of Gator Rogowski? HS: When I first heard about Gator's crime, I wondered how someone so successful on the surface could end up committing such an act of desperation and soul emptiness. But stories similar to Gator's are not so uncommon. A lot of my friends looked up to Gator but no one knew the reason for his criminal actions. There was speculation, rumors, and a lot of bad jokes, but few facts. There were certain aspects of Gator's situation I could relate to. Maybe not the murderous rage part, but it is never easy to be young and encounter hard times. 1991 was a bad year--the country and economy were going through a lot of changes then, and I thought Gator's personal story also probably had a lot to say on a more universal level about the '80s and a culture adapting (or failing to adapt) to change. It's weird because a lot of those same changes are happening again now, especially in skateboarding. GR: Was the nature of the documentary ever depressing or overwhelming? HS: Sure was! When I first started going down to prison to see Gator a lot, it was a real bummmer. A couple times I just came home and cried. Some of my friends gave me shit too, like, "Why do you want to make skating look bad?" I thought that was kind of an insecure attitude, but skating was still climbing its way back out of the hole back then. When I started working on the film, the crime was six years old, but some people still had raw feelings. Sometimes people would vent their anger on me, and it was hard not to feel guilt about bringing it up. I realized the story was like a scab that had not healed. After awhile, though, people started thanking me for taking the time to make the film and tell the story properly. That's the attitude I hear now. It's nice to be appreciated. GR: How did your perception of the story change as you worked on it? HS: Initially, all I had to go on were the rumors, speculation, and what little had been written. During my research process, I got all the public records in existence like court files; every skate magazine ad, editorial, or mention; letters; photos; videos; and a lot of private stuff. I talked to nearly 100 people who knew Gator and filmed close to 40 interviews. (We used 30-some of those in the documentary.) I also spent a lot of time visiting and writing Gator--not necessarily always taking to him about the past, but also getting to know his personality. Everything in the film is cross-referenced and fact-checked. I didn't script any sort of voiceover narration or have a preconceived idea going in, I let the participants I interviewed do the talking. As common themes came out of the interviews and archival research, that shaped the story and narration. GR: Was it difficult to get skaters to talk about Gator's rise and fall? HS: Somewhat. In documentary you have to be hypersensitive to every nuance of the person you're interviewing while you're filming. When someone is ill-at-ease, it shows up on film. Traditionally people being interviewed for a documentary are nonprofessionals or non-actors. Even though quite a few of the people in the doc had been filmed before, this was an uncomfortable subject, so in many cases I just had to wait it out until they were ready. A few of them, I waited for years. As more people got on board, it snowballed and got easier. There certainly were more people I could have tried to interview who knew Gator well, but I didn't want to have so many faces that it would be distracting to follow the story. I got a good cross-section of his closest friends, peers, and work associates. GR: Was Gator receptive to talking about his crime? Do you think he's changed? HS: Yes and no to both. It's hard for me to answer those types of questions. I think he is a very complex personality, but I don't want to influence or prejudice anyone's impression. The film should let people make up their own minds--or at least start a dialogue--and I think it has. GR: Are skaters different than actors, artists, or others as far as interviews go? HS: In my experiences working with actors, they are usually paid to show up or have some sort of professional investment in being there. So it is very easy to schedule. The only artist I worked with before was Shepard Fairey for my 1995 short doc Andre the Giant has a Posse, and he was not a problem to interview because the film was just about him and we lived in the same town. This film was hard because I had to go film in over 11 cities in four states, with dozens of participants. The thing about documentary filmmaking is that people don't have a whole lot of incentive to take time out of their busy lives to spill their guts for you at a moment's notice. I'm not always such a patient person, so this film was a real lesson for me. GR Do you think Stoked has the same crossover appeal as Dogtown even though its tone is much darker? HS: I don't know how to compare them. That would have to be someone else's job... GR: Is this intended for little skate rats in any way? HS: My feeling is that it is for a slightly older crowd. But I had a 14-year-old at a screening with his 40-something dad. The 14-year-old was sort of unfazed while Dad was pretty shook up. So, who knows? I tried to be responsible in telling the story, realizing little kids might see it, but I was not going to censor it. GR: What do you think the story has for non-skaters? HS: More than any other skate film I've ever seen, that's for sure. But I have not yet seen Grind, so I will keep the jury out. I think that it will give non-skaters an idea of how much more there is to skateboarding beyond the "hey dude!" stereotype. It shows the business, marketing, professional and personal choices, sacrifices, and gains that happen in the industry. It reveals the infrastructure and the personalities that keep it together. I think it has a lot to say about pop culture, celebrity, identity, and fame, and on a more human level, it's about the fragility of mental health, especially in young people or certain personality types. It's also got an ass-kicking soundtrack and some of the funniest moments I've ever seen in a documentary. It will make you want to bleach your hair and wear tights, if only for a fleeting moment. GR What's next for you? HS: Since I am the producer as well as director, I'm working on this film through its entire release schedule--through festival, theatrical, all the way up to DVD and broadcast, both domestic and international--probably until early next year. I am sort of an indentured servant in that respect--just kidding. On the side, I'm working on some feature scripts now, will be looking for other short-form commercial stuff to pay the bills, and I want to do one more short documentary pretty soon. I would also like to take a little vacation. I haven't had one of those a while. |
