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Murderball July 24, 2005 |
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If you’ve heard about “Murderball” as being a film about dudes in wheelchairs who knock each other’s brains out in souped up Mad Max chairs, than you’ve heard right. But if that’s all you’ve heard, than shame on your source for not going further into this truly remarkable documentary, which is far more than handicapped jocks running into each other’s specifically designed chairs, it’s first and foremost a film about hope, about incredible struggle, and about living with a disability and making the most of what life can offer, in spite of it. There is action, bone crunching action at that, courtesy of the film’s titular sport, Quad Rugby, a sport not unlike field rugby, the goal of which is to get the ball past the opposing team’s scoring line, with various rules about dribbling and passing thrown in for fairness and competitive edge, but the sport is simply a staging area for a deeply moving, uplifting, and informative documentary on the life of quadriplegic men and their desire to overcome their disabilities, by channeling their anger into an aggressive and ultra competitive game. It’s that mixture of adrenaline-soaked game footage and personal back stories that makes “Murderball” such a fine study in human behavior and psychology, giving voice to a subject matter many would choose not to learn about, but would find in an uncomfortable subject the very essence of humanity and will. The film gets its title from the surrogate name for wheelchair rugby, a team sport restricted to quadriplegics who have lost most mobility in their legs and partial mobility in their arms, that is more fiery and competitive than most professional sporting leagues. That’s not to say Murderball isn’t a professional sport, to these men it certainly is, an all encompassing profession (or maybe it’s just a hobby, but an all encompassing hobby mind you), and the film follows the United States squad for two and a half years, from the 2002 World Championships in Sweden, through preparation and competition in the 2004 Paralympics in Greece, where the athletes compete with remarkable determination, making up for in spirit what is missing from their physical bodies. It is, as the film’s most charismatic subject, team hero Mark Zupan, tells us, not the Special Olympics, not by a long shot. “We’re not going for a hug,” says Zupan, an intense bulldog with a red goatee, steely eyes, and full-out body tattoo’s, “we’re going for the gold metal.” The preparation for the event is as grueling and intense as NFL training camps, and the film does a good job punching up the rivalry between the United States and Canada, who is coached by former All American Joe Soares, the documentary’s second standout behind Zupan, a man who turned his back on the American team after he was cut in his old age, and now seeks revenge as coach of their bitter rivals, Team Canada. When Canada beats the American team with a last second goal in Sweden, Joe is ecstatic, but his friends on the losing side find his treachery unforgivable, something the proud and competitive Soares takes to heart. “Benedict Arnold was in a war,” he says, alluding to the ridiculousness of the jealousy and turncoat accusations, “when he betrayed his country, people died.” Nobody dies playing Murderball, but the emotions and heat of battle run as strong as life and death itself. The competitive edge and rivalries of the game make “Murderball” a first rate sports documentary, but what makes it a brilliant study of the human condition is the people, and the way they are tenderly profiled, not as “special”, but as regular humans struggling with life’s often unfair curves. Zupan’s story is especially remarkable; thrown from the back of his friends truck after a night of partying, he literally clung to his life in freezing water for hours on end before somebody finally saw his hand clutching a branch, tired and shivering. The accident left him without the use of his legs, and only partial movement in his hands (the payers use sticky gloves to catch and pass the ball), but as his friends testify, Mark was a surely SOB before the accident, so the chair only intensifies his rage, perfect for such a demanding sport. There is no self pity in Mark Zupan, only guts, determination, and an impressive desire to win, used as both metaphor for sports, and life, literally. The tidbits of the players home lives are sobering and powerful: Zupan skillfully changing into his playing shorts in the film’s first shot; Coach Joe beaming with affection and pride at his son’s music recital; 24-year-old Keith (a motocross victim) returning home, somewhat bitter, after months of rehabilitation; platinum blonde haired charmer Andy Cohn describing that yes, quadriplegia doesn’t limit sexual activity (the instructional video is one of the film’s funnier moments), and the relevant and incredibly touching scene of Zupan teaching recent amputee’s at Walter Reed the finer points of Murderball, a scene of inspiration and warmth. These guys may be warriors on the battlefield, but watch them with grade school kids (“how do you eat pizza with your elbows,” asks one curious kid), or with their girlfriends, or with disillusioned recent quadriplegics like Keith, and you’ll see men of heart and honor, supermen of a film both exciting and moving. If you see just one movie this summer about Quad Rugby and the personal lives of its heroes, than make it “Murderball”, for Zupan and company will stay with you for a long, long time. “Murderball” is playing at the Amherst Theater, 3500 Main St. in Buffalo. by Adam Suraf
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