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ROLLERBALL

Say this for the remake of Rollerball, the less-than-classic 1975 James Caan flick: at least it lacks the sci-fi pretentiousness of the futuristic original. Today’s filmmakers grasp that there’s plenty of greed, globalism, bread-and-circuses violence, and hypocrisy to wallow in right now. Chris Klein plays Jonathan, an extreme-sports dude who’s supposed to be too much of an outlaw to play pro hockey. Instead, he goes to Kazakhstan to play rollerball, a hockey/motocross/roller derby hybrid that’s too violent for North America. (Not too violent for the MPAA, however, which rated the movie PG-13; I guess covering teammate Rebecca Romijn-Stamos’s breasts with what looks like computer-generated locker-room steam kept the movie out of R territory.)

Hardly a battle-hardened veteran like Caan, Jonathan’s a boy scout who is shocked, shocked to learn that team owner Petrovich (Jean Reno) is deliberately ratcheting up the life-threatening mayhem just to boost the sport’s ratings. I’d say Klein was out of his depth, if he had any depth to be out of. Not that he has much to work with, given a logic-starved script that’s made even more unfathomable by amphetamine-addled editing, an ear-crunching nu-metal soundtrack, and incoherent direction by usually reliable action guy John McTiernan. The project’s cynicism is nicely expressed in one character’s line: "If they’ll buy it, I’ll sell it." At least Rollerball ends with the suggestion that the poor clods in the audience might resent being ripped off enough to rebel against the entertainment moguls who exploit them. Moviegoers, take note.

BY GARY SUSMAN

Issue Date: February 14 - 21, 2002
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