Soares also emphasizes the "make" part of the equation. He expects to be active and competitive not subsidized, even when at certain levels he depends on the support of others to survive and just play his sport.

For all the principals, there's a mixture of impotence, anger, and occasional cluelessness that may not be far from the NASCAR dad demographic. I don't know if it's intentional but the last scene of the movie makes an interesting political statement. As the U.S. team seeks to reload, the coaches and Zupan go to a crowded rehab center where they expose disabled Iraq war vets to the sport. This is the first scene where you see women trying it out. It's a much more haunting statement about where America is headed and where it stands in the world than I've seen in any Michael Moore movie.

I do have to include this warning. Murderball, as its name implies, is the polar opposite of a chick flick. It's literally bloody and profane. There is male sensitivity in the movie, but it's effective because the individuals are so unselfconscious about it. Director Henry Rubin and writer Alex Shapiro use a jerky handheld video style where the picture never quite holds still. I suspect this was done on purpose because it gives the movie a raw-choppy feel that's true to its subjects. Unfortunately, the jerkiness gets in the way of the viewer getting a feel for the sport itself. The camera has little sense of the apparent tactics and flow of the sport, so the action sequences come off as scoring fests.

As great movies do though, Murderball doesn't back off from being disturbing which also happens to be the reason this film has so much heart.

Original slightly longer review

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