Review of Murderball (2005) by Theresa G — 08 May 2006

What a tremendous film. That's all I feel I have to say about it. Tremendous.

I suppose I have to add more to avoid shortchanging myself. Fine. Scenario: a world-class competition featuring a violent contact sport. Enter Zupan, the trash-talkin' tattoo'd murderball player who pounds pavement every morning and keeps busy snogging his hot girlfriend in a pool. Soares, the grizzled old warrior who doesn't want to let go, with a chip on his shoulder and troubles at home, looking for a way back in the game.

Sports movie stereotypes, you say? Character drivel? Ha. These are real men. And they are both in wheelchairs, for life.

Guys in wheelchairs don't stop being guys. Correction, [i]men[/i]. These men have as much fire and drive as any other athlete and they absolutely reject any pity or sympathy you may feel towards their condition. They'll kick your ass and steal your wife.

I'm sure that being confined to a wheelchair must rank among the most horrible things that could happen to a young man. But the men in this film exude a quality, a light, that indicates that a profound liberating change has taken place. They have known themselves fallen, dead almost, and risen again to a prominence few could aspire to. They are invulnerable, invincible, immortal. That's a mighty powerful message right there.