It is so difficult to begin a review for a documentary that is not only the finest film of the year, but one of the most powerful emotional experiences I have had in the cinema in years. But I'll try.
First of all, defining Murderball is difficult in and of itself. Yes, it is a documentary. It is certainly about sports, too, chronicling the rocky road America's quadriplegic wheelchair rugby team takes to the 2004 Paralympic Games in Athens, Greece. And yet, in the end, Murderball isn't really a documentary about sports - scenes featuring the game itself are brief. It isn't just a movie about sports, either; by the time the film begins exploring the deeper issues behind the players, the game becomes simply a common thread. It's an interesting and dangerous game, though; it is played in reinforced wheelchairs designed to withstand the impact that results from the full-contact sport, causing one to wonder why more people don't ask what one person does: Do you wear helmets?
Murderball is a movie about second chances in life, how a simple twist of fate can become something beautiful and how deep-seated misconceptions about the physically disabled still exist. A common misconception made before even seeing the film is about the word paraplegic: though commonly considered someone completely paralyzed from the neck down, a quadriplegic actually can have some movement in the affected limbs. The documentary opens the way a million other clich+
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Matt Burns
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Mark Zupan, right, fights for a win for America's quadriplegic rugby team in Murderball. He was confined to a wheelchair after being paralyzed in a car accident but says in the film that he has done more in a wheelchair than he did before his accident.
