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More than merely a sports documentary or an inspirational profile of triumph over adversity,
Murderball offers a refreshing and progressive attitude toward disability while telling unforgettable stories about uniquely admirable people. It's ostensibly a film about quadriplegic rugby (or "Murderball," as it was formerly known), in which players with at least
some loss of physical function in all four limbs navigate modified wheelchairs in a hardcore, full-contact sport that takes them all the way to the Paralympic Games in Athens, Greece, in 2004. But as we get to know paralyzed or amputee players on Team USA like Andy Cohn, Scott Hogsett, Bob Lujano and charismatic team spokesman Mark Zupan, we come to understand that quad rugby is a saving grace for these determined competitors, who battle Team Canada coach (and former Team USA superstar) Joe Soares en route to the climactic contest in Athens. Simply put,
Murderball is the best film to date about living with a severe disability, but codirectors Henry Alex Rubin and Dana Adam Shapiro avoid the sappy, inspirational sentiment that hampers nearly all mainstream films involving disability. By the time this blazing 85-minute film reaches its emotional conclusion, the issue of disability is almost irrelevant; these guys are as normal as anyone, and their life stories led to
Murderball becoming the most critically acclaimed documentary of 2005.
--Jeff Shannon
From The New Yorker
The cutthroat sport of quadriplegic rugby, or "kill the man with the ball," is the focus of this energetic and riveting documentary by Dana Adam Shapiro and Henry Alex Rubin. The directors followed the young, tattooed jock Mark Zupan, the seasoned coach Joe Soares, and several other players on the U.S. and Canadian teams as they trained for the 2004 Paralympics, in Athens. With graceful editing and a minimal score, Shapiro and Rubin interweave the players' stories-their families, sex lives, physical achievements-with well-shot scenes of the action. The athletes play with fury, transferring their anger at their disabilities into incredible agility and power. The men seem at a loss when they attempt to fathom their situations, but their pure will allows them to keep moving.-Shauna Lyon -Shauna Lyon
Copyright © 2006
The New Yorker
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