In the groovy mid 70's a scruffy bunch of brash young Venice, California adolescents from broken homes and the bad side of town known as the Z-Boys turned the previously staid world of professional skateboarding on its ear with their fierce punk attitude, radical unconventional riding style, and unbridled spirit of pure in-your-face aggression, revolutionizing the sport in the process and paving the way for the many extreme variations on sports that popped up in their influential wake. Director Stacy Peralta, who's one of the legendary Z-Boys himself, relates the incredible exploits of this amazing ragtag crew in a ferociously punchy and visceral manner that's both informative and wildly entertaining: the snappy rapid-fire editing, ceaseless speedy pace, and raw, gritty photography deliver one hell of an infectiously kinetic buzz, projecting a sense of sheer joy and full-on bustling energy that's a total pleasure to behold. Better still, this documentary neither sanitizes nor romanticizes its subjects: These rough'n'scrappy lads were so fiercely competitive and out for themselves that they all went their separate ways when the lure of fame and fortune manifested in their lives. The ultimate fates of certain guys is poignant and heartbreaking, with gifted and spontaneous ace skateboard rat Jay Adams rating as the saddest and most tragic: He blew his chance at the big time and wound up doing time in jail. The other dudes are very colorful and personable as well; charismatic ball of cocky and defiant fire Tony Alva in particular comes across as one arrogant, yet impressive piece of furiously assertive work. Marvelously narrated with delightfully easy'n'breezy nasal nonchalance by Sean Penn. The terrific rock soundtrack likewise seriously smokes. But what really makes this documentary such a winner is its refreshing complete dearth of pretense: It's every bit as dynamic, exuberant and larger-than-life extraordinary as the gloriously outrageous Z-Boys themselves.