

It’s difficult to convey just how much skateboarding means to the people who love it without using religious allegories, and when most films try they fail miserably, coming across as overwrought or cliched in a way that’s cringeworthy to anyone who's ever been consumed by the culture. In Ray’s case, it was enough to lift him out of the depression left by his brother’s death, and in Stevie’s it allowed him to find a tribe of people who accepted him for who he was, and offered an escape from his troubled home life. Where Mid90s really shines, though, is in the way it’s able to paint a portrait of what skateboarding means to its most fervent participants and the influence it holds over them. It’s a powerful exploration of teen (and pre-teen) angst and an illuminating look at the way kids discover themselves through their friends. Ray, Fuckshit, Fourth Grade, and Ruben welcome him into their crew, helping him in life as much as in skateboarding. An exceedingly quiet and seemingly lonely kid, Stevie finds acceptance with a group of misfits at an LA skate shop called Motor Avenue. On its surface, M id90s is a snapshot of a kid trapped in a difficult and sometimes violent household he's trying desperately to escape.
