I realized a couple of days ago that the makers of this film put a play on words into its title. This movie is not primarily about the act of "riding giants," but mostly about the people who are the giants of the sport, RIDING giants, to change the emphasis.<br /><br />In my teens I lived a block from the Wedge, one of the hardest-breaking and best bodysurfing spots in the world. I've been out in 15-to-18 foot surf, and have ridden and been hammered by 10 and 12-foot waves on many occasions. That experience is why I am in complete awe of the surfers in this film. The idea that Jeff Clark, to all appearances a normal mortal, could get away with riding Maverick's BY HIMSELF for over a decade is beyond my grasp. The first safety rule of any water sport is "Never surf/dive/swim by yourself." He went where sane people would not, and lived to tell about it. I wouldn't go out there if the water were 75 degrees and the sharks all left. <br /><br />In the world of warm water: the first shot of the waves at Jaws always makes the skin tingle over my entire body. These are not just scary waves, these are uncontrolled-bowel-evacuation waves. When we see Laird Hamilton not only surviving 40-to-60 foot waves (I can hardly type those numbers), but actually working the faces like a fun day at Rincon, I'm blown away. There is a dedication and focus in big-wave riders which is comparable to that of anyone in the world. <br /><br />This a great film. I gave it a 9 instead of a 10 only because it neglects to mention that there are great big-wave riders in the world outside the Hamilton/Kalama crew, and I think they deserved mention. Splice in Ken Bradshaw at outside Log Cabins and a 10 it is!