The world of professional surfing is often defined by its rigid structures—competitive tournaments, judges, and the relentless pursuit of perfection. But for Torren Martyn and Ishka Folkwell, the true magic lies in the stories that emerge when the sport becomes a catalyst for something far greater. Their latest film, Southern Edge, isn’t just a documentary about sailing kayaks around Tasmania; it’s a meditation on connection, resilience, and the quiet beauty of human endeavor. To watch it is to witness a rare kind of storytelling—one that transcends the waves and invites you to see the world through a different lens.
Martyn and Folkwell aren’t just surfers; they’re storytellers who refuse to let their craft be confined to the arena. Their previous works, like Lost Track: Atlantic and Thank You Mother, have always been about more than the act of surfing. They’re about the journey, the people, and the landscapes that shape the experience. Southern Edge is no different. It’s a 700-kilometer odyssey through Tasmania’s rugged coastline, where the duo’s kayaks become both a tool and a symbol of their commitment to exploring the unknown. What starts as a physical challenge quickly becomes a deeply personal exploration of the land and the souls who call it home.
What many people don’t realize is that this kind of filmmaking requires a different kind of courage. Need Essentials, the Australian wetsuit brand behind the project, has long eschewed traditional advertising in favor of backing adventures that tell stories worth sharing. This approach isn’t just about branding—it’s about creating content that resonates on a human level. Martyn’s words after the journey, about the West being ‘wild and no place for us in our plastic vessels,’ highlight the raw, unfiltered nature of their work. It’s not polished or curated; it’s messy, imperfect, and authentically human. This is the kind of storytelling that demands attention, not because it’s flashy, but because it’s real.
The film’s greatest strength lies in its ability to connect. As Martyn and Folkwell navigate Tasmania’s remote shores, they don’t just document the landscape—they interact with the people who live there, the wildlife that thrives in its waters, and the rhythms of a place that feels both ancient and alive. This is a far cry from the sterile, performance-driven narratives that dominate mainstream media. Instead, Southern Edge offers a glimpse into the soul of a place, framed by the quiet persistence of two individuals who refuse to be defined by the limits of their equipment or the expectations of their audience.
Personally, I think this kind of work is crucial in a world that often prioritizes speed and spectacle over substance. Martyn and Folkwell’s adventures remind us that the most meaningful stories aren’t always the ones that are easiest to produce. They’re the ones that require patience, risk, and a willingness to embrace the unknown. The film’s title, Southern Edge, is a metaphor for the boundary between the familiar and the foreign, the known and the uncharted. It’s a reminder that the best journeys are those that push us to question our assumptions and see the world with fresh eyes.
What this film suggests is a broader cultural shift—one where storytelling is no longer confined to the screen or the page, but is instead embedded in the act of living. Martyn and Folkwell’s work challenges the notion that adventure must be grand or glamorous. Instead, it’s about the small, intimate moments that define a life well-lived. In a world increasingly driven by algorithms and instant gratification, Southern Edge is a gentle nudge to slow down, listen, and find beauty in the spaces between the waves.
