Completely unmarketable under its original name, the sport of murderball is better known as quad-rugby. Invented in Canada by, presumably, wheelchair-bound sportsmen with too much testosterone, quad-rugby has hit the big league. In custom-made wheelchairs loosely resembling the bottom half of an armour-plated Dalek, teams beat the crap out of each another, kamikaze-style, while trying to score with a soccer ball. It’s a blistering sport whose players hit and hit back, who play without helmets in what must be a supreme act of courage or total stupidity. Murderball is as illuminating as it is uplifting. The filmmaker’s unsentimental approach is paramount, even when discussing circumstances that put the players in chairs, their private lives or sexual relationships. Nor are they afraid to show these guys as jerks when they’re being jerks. Irrespective of disability, Team USA behaves like most pro-athletes do in their down-time; drinking, swearing, fighting and chasing women. Some are not all that pleasant, such as Joe Soares, an aging player who ‘goes over’ to train the Canadians when dumped by his own country. That conflict, and his act of treason, is the film’s cornerstone. Matching that human drama is pounding court action particularly when a win by Soares sets up a grudge match at the Athens Paralympics. In balance is hotshot US personality Mark Zupan whose ambassadorial duties open doors to many disabled people. Although some questions are left unanswered – the peculiar mechanics of the game, and downbeat realism of some lives for instance – the sweetly-short, rough and tumble feel-good of Murderball is a winner. // COLIN FRASER