Murderball
(2005)
Dir. Henry Alex Rubin and Dana Adam Shapiro
Fuck Yeah. Four words that fully embody the term BADASS: Full Contact Quadriplegic Rugby. Seriously, it’s cooler than you’d think. Okay, I’ll admit it, when I read the synopsis for this film, I was immediately intrigued for all the wrong reasons. Honestly, I pictured Christopher Reeve breathing through his tube, tragically attempting to play catch with his one good eyebrow. Apparently, however, not all quads are rendered totally immobile, they just have some impairment in all four limbs–the degrees of inertia can differ from person to person. That said, what I thought was going to be an exploitive film with a morbid circus freak appeal, was actually very tasteful, and really inspiring.
Who says you need four working limbs to be a world famous athlete? The game is like a cross between your county fair variety bumper cars and well, rugby. And you better be strapped in, as anyone who’s ever dared the ‘Dodge-Ems’ can attest to. It may look tame from the turnstile, but when you get caught in the cross fire, that shit can hurt. Ordinary wheel chairs are for cripples. On the court these transformed studs zip around in custom-made, armored battering rams. In these post-apocalyptic sci-fi movie-esque super chairs, these guys will fuck you up–demolition derby style.
The two stand-out performances come from Mark Zupan, a thug jock tuff guy who waxes about trying to start fights with able-bodied bros in bars and gets bummed if they won’t hit him back. But deep down he’s a sensitive soul who finds great reward in pleasuring his girlfriend and presenting rugby as a lifestyle choice to those who think all things ambulatory are no longer an option for them. Then there’s Mark’s (or really America’s) rival, Joe Soares–a crotchety, aging world champ who got so pissed when he was cut from Team USA that he went AWOL to join forces with the Canadians for the sole purpose of revenge. All this on his plate and he still finds time to be disappointed in his son, an uncoordinated brainiac wimp.
Off the gaming court, which is fabulously intensified by high-octane editing and bad, but somehow just right, heavy metal, Murderball offers up a few noteworthy public service announcements. The heart-wrenching tales of how a few of these champs became incapacitated should become mandatory viewing for fraternities, to illustrate the consequences of binge drinking. Furthermore, the film is kind enough to clear up a few common misconceptions, and I suppose, ultimate fears of a possible paralysis: 1) yes, quads can and do have sex, and enjoy it too; 2) should some freak blood infection rob you of all four limbs, you can still eat pizza, just use your elbows.
What The Station Agent did to amp up the sex appeal of dwarves (if you haven’t seen it, trust me on this one), Murderball is sure to do for the handicapped. These guys are hot and chicks fall all over them. Personally, I can’t wait for the Team USA Para Olympic trading cards to come out, and believe you me, once this film gets peeped they’re going to hit the presses. Oh yeah, and the next time the Para Olympics roll around, don’t confuse it with the Special Olympics. These guys want you to know they don’t play for hugs and a one-size-fits-all congratulatory ribbon, they play for keeps, and they play for ass.
