Jumbo Wild review.
Every fall, about a dozen filmmakers and production companies send screeners our way, hoping we'll use what influence we have to convince locals to cough up anywhere from five to 20 dollars to see the latest and greatest in winter-sports porn. The installments from said production companies are relatively formulaic—big terrain, big tricks, big deal. And while we find ourselves glued to our screens, declaring to ourselves that "this is going to be the year" – and then a few hours later, for seemingly no reason at all, browsing Salomon's new freeride line – the films have no lasting impression. They are entertainment, which is what they should be.