Torren Martyn’s Southern Edge isn’t just a surf film—it’s a meditation on the soul of adventure. When I first heard about the duo’s attempt to circumnavigate Tasmania in two 18-foot sailing kayaks, I was struck by the paradox at the heart of their mission: to chase waves while also chasing connection. Surfing, for Martyn and Folkwell, is never just about the water. It’s about the journey, the people, and the landscapes that shape it. This is what makes Southern Edge so compelling. It’s not a film about surfing; it’s a film about the why of surfing.
What many people don’t realize is that the best surf films aren’t just about the sport—they’re about the stories behind the waves. Martyn and Folkwell don’t just document their travels; they invite viewers to feel the weight of the ocean, the grit of the coastline, and the quiet moments where the sea becomes a mirror for human resilience. This is a rare kind of filmmaking—one that prioritizes emotional resonance over spectacle. Personally, I think this approach is a rebellion against the commercialized, polished world of professional surfing.
The challenges of the journey are as much a part of the film as the waves themselves. Tasmania’s coastline is a wild, untamed place, and navigating it in kayaks required not just skill but a deep respect for the environment. Martyn’s candid reflections on the ordeal—three nights of refuge, six weeks of sailing, and the physical toll of the endeavor—add a human dimension to the adventure. It’s a reminder that even the most thrilling surf trips are built on sacrifice. What this really suggests is that the best surf films are those that don’t just showcase the sport but also the people who make it possible.
Need Essentials, the Australian brand behind the project, is a fascinating case study in how storytelling can replace advertising. They don’t sell wetsuits through flashy ads; instead, they invest in experiences that become their own kind of marketing. This is a shift in the industry—a move away from transactional branding toward authentic, immersive narratives. From my perspective, this is a bold strategy. It’s not just about selling products; it’s about creating a legacy.
The film’s true genius lies in its ability to blur the line between travel and surfing. The coastlines of Tasmania are not just backdrops—they’re characters in the story. The wildlife, the weather, the local communities all play a role in shaping the narrative. This is a rare kind of filmmaking that feels organic, not curated. What this really implies is that the future of surf culture is less about trophies and more about connection.
Southern Edge is a testament to the idea that adventure is not just about the destination but the process of getting there. It’s a reminder that the ocean is not just a place to surf but a place to reflect. In a world where instant gratification is the norm, this film offers a slow, deliberate alternative. It’s a call to embrace the unknown, to find beauty in the rugged, and to remember that the greatest waves are the ones that shape us.
What I find especially interesting is how this project aligns with a broader trend in creative industries: the move toward authenticity. Whether it’s music, film, or travel, the best work is born from passion, not profit. Southern Edge is a masterclass in that. It’s not just a film—it’s a movement. And for anyone who’s ever felt the pull of the sea, it’s a story that speaks directly to the heart.
