The Truth is Stranger Than Fiction

I had four documentaries on my list this summer that I definitely wanted to see – and on Saturday I finally checked off the last one – Murderball. Bad title, I think that may have been why it didn’t do better at the box office. It was actually a surprisingly moving film, without being sentimental or maudlin about its subjects. “Murderball” is a nickname for wheelchair rugby, played competitively at a national and international level, by men with at least partial upper body mobility. The players are tough and reckless, hurling their souped-up chairs at each other, elated when they win, and devastated when they lose. The film is framed by the competition between the US and Canadian teams, whose rivalry is inflamed by the fact that the coach for Canada is a former player for the US who took the job out of spite when he didn’t make the US team’s cut due to his age. The coach, Joe Soares, is a man so filled with rage and hatred, so humorless, and so hard on his gawky young son, that for most of the movie he’s hard to like. But he redeems himself somewhat by rushing back from a competition to see his son play viola, and being supportive and kind even though he wishes his son was athletic instead. The joy on the boy’s face when he looks out at the crowd and sees that his dad made it is so palpable – it’s a wonderful and extremely human moment.

Although it is in some ways a sports movie, with a tense build-up to the final meeting between USA and Canada at the Paralympics in Athens that is as classic as any countdown to the big match, it is very much about the lives of the individual players – their stories of what their lives used to be, what happened to change them, and how they have survived and changed as they were forced to live their lives in a wheelchair. Also poignant is the story of a recently paralyzed young man, who struggles just with the mere concept of what his life is like now, as his mom tries hard to make it bearable for him.

Towards the end, Mark Zupan, a guy who initially seems to be the most “murderous” of the murderball players, goes to speak at a rehab center, where he meets the young man we’ve been following, and lets him try out his rugby chair, which basically has shields for wheels. Later, at a Paralympics press conference, Zupan talks about the experience of seeing the boy’s face light up when he sits in that chair. The idea of playing wheelchair rugby someday, as well as seeing Mark Zupan, who is so confident about his abilities despite his limitations, has a huge impact, and who knows? It may be the thing that saves this young man from total despair.

As to the other docs that were on my list – I could write a whole book on my feelings about Grizzly Man, but maybe I’ll save that for another post. If you haven’t seen it, don’t wait – get out there. I wish I had seen March of the Penguins earlier in the summer – but I will say that I think it’s great that it’s done so well at the box office. The more commercially viable documentaries are, the more studios will back their makers, and hopefully, the greater the quality that will emerge. Anyway, M of the P was certainly a superior nature film, and very enjoyable, but it didn’t rock my world like Grizzly Man did.

And Mad Hot Ballroom was very cute, certainly a feel-good type of film, about these junior high kids in New York’s less appealing neighborhoods who compete with other schools at ballroom dancing. There were some great moments in this film, both touching and hilarious, largely stemming from the childrens’ uncanny ability to look into the camera and say the most unexpected things.

That’s what’s so great about documentaries. The truth is always stranger than fiction can ever be. A good doc shows us that we are all such individuals – that there are so many odd, strange, clever, different people out there. You turn a camera on someone, and they will say and do the most amazing and unbelievable things.