accessAtlanta

Action heroes roll over stereotypes in fierce 'Murderball'

By BOB LONGINO
The Atlanta Journal-Constitution

Mark Zupan, the muscled wheelchair poster boy for the headbanging documentary "Murderball," is frank about talking smack to nonhandicapped guys.

"I go, 'What? You're not gonna hit a kid in a chair?'" the former Georgia Tech student says. "'[Expletive] hit me! I'll hit you back.'"

ThinkFilm

'Murderball'

B+

The verdict: A compelling film about a rough, tough game in wheelchairs and the rough, tough men who play it.

Directors: Henry Alex Rubin, Dana Adam Shapiro
Cast: Keith Cavill, Joe Soares, Mark Zupan
Run time: 88 minutes
Release date: July 22, 2005
Rating: R for language and sexual content.

On the web
Official movie site
View the trailer
Trailers require Quicktime

Zupan is dead serious. As serious with fighting words as he is crashing into an opponent in a rowdy game of wheelchair rugby.

That's what "Murderball" is about. Just because guys have unfortunate accidents or are born with disabilities and become dependent upon wheelchairs, it doesn't mean their testosterone is low.

These grown men play full-contact rugby in custom-built, "Road Warrior"-style wheelchairs. Their game is ugly, raucously verbal, overtly physical and, as displayed in "Murderball's" rapid-pace editing, a heck of a lot of fun to watch.

Winner of two prizes at Sundance and a near-sellout at last month's Atlanta Film Festival, "Murderball" follows the competitive national teams of Canada and the United States in quad rugby. They play each other with the kind of intensity and adrenaline rush that underscored the 1980 Olympic hockey match between America's ice youth and the Soviet machine that was the basis for "Miracle."

Zupan, who was injured when he was thrown from a truck his best friend was driving, plays for the U.S. team.

The film's other main focus is Joe Soares, a former U.S. team player who coaches Canada. Many American team members label him a defector.

Soares' personality is strong. His will to win at one point even threatens his health.

While "Murderball" is fast and furious in its depiction of games, the documentary also takes time to delve into the off-court lives of the players.

They talk openly and perceptively about how they feel they are mistreated by the nonhandicapped public. (One Paralympics player mentions how a well-meaning relative, when she realized what his success meant, announced he had made the "Special Olympics.")

Some readily admit that their injuries have made them "chick magnets." And the film offers up footage from an instructional video to partially show how these guys have sex.

It may seem at times like a strange film, but it's a compelling one.

"Murderball" may make many people rethink how they view the handicapped.

These guys don't want pity. They want to compete and they want to win. They want nothing short of a gold medal.