Warren Miller: The Godfather of Holy Sh*t

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Outside Magazine November 2004

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Warren Miller
The Godfather of Holy Sh*t
Come along for a wild ride with Warren Miller, the man who invented the art of extreme-ski filmmaking. Even at 80, he can still out-rip you on any slope in the world.

By Anne Goodwin Sides


	"It's Been Fun So Far": Warren Miller at his home on Orcas Island, Washington (Dan Winters)

TWO ENGINES START UP with a guttural purr, the sound muffled by knee-deep California powder. A hundred yards apart, separated by a mogul field, a pair of men mount their fidgety Polaris snowmobiles. Behind them, the Minaret peaks claw at a hyper-blue sky.

"Warren and Dave. Take one!"

The production assistant snaps a slate and ducks behind the cameraman. As an Arriflex 16-millimeter starts rolling, the riders lurch forward, gaining speed as they pitch off huge snow mounds. Suddenly their faces are visible, their ruddy cheeks stretched flat in demonic grins. The character flying in from stage right is Dave McCoy, legendary founder and owner of Mammoth Mountain ski resort and a former trainer of Olympic skiers. Growling in from left is Warren Miller, the puckish godfather of extreme-ski cinema and our nation's original ski bum.

Miller turns 80 on October 15. McCoy is 88. But no one here believes it. Ski buddies since the 1940s, they're being filmed in Mammoth's backcountry for the 2004 Warren Miller film Impact, which opens October 21 in Portland, Oregon, before rolling out to 180 U.S. cities and seven other countries. Shots of Miller romping with his merry-prankster pals are a cherished part of these movies. It's one slightly indulgent ingredient in a successful formula that, year after year, pulls in more than half a million raucous fans, who pay up to $18.50 a ticket. Impact will be Miller's 55th feature film—and possibly his last.

Miller is an imposing six foot one, with a giant bald head and a strapping chest stuffed inside his signature Dale of Norway sweater. He's blocking out this scene himself, using pine boughs to indicate where he and McCoy will make their final vaults so that, from the camera's perspective, their snowmobiles will appear to intersect in midair, like crossed swords. As McCoy and Miller bound over the last few moguls in near-flawless rhythm, there's a goofy synchronicity to the moment, as if Esther Williams were choreographing a scene from Mad Max.

Finally, the men launch off their respective jumps and sail past each other, a feat that should look great in slo-mo. Unfortunately, the cameraman didn't get the shot he wanted.

"Gotta do it over, Dave!" Miller yells, feigning dismay.

"OK!" shouts McCoy.

With that, they spin their machines around, rev 'em up, and do it all again—two raging geriatrics, trying to form a perfect X.

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Anne Goodwin Sides is an occasional contributor to Outside.

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