And I get whiplash on the bumper cars: "Murderball"

If I recally correctly, the reviews of this documentary were tree-mendous. Sadly, it seemed to breeze through my burg before I caught it on the big screen. Fear not ... Netflix to the rescue.

Cutting to the quick, this movie is awesome.

Any story about quadriplegics who play rugby figures to be interesting. But "Murderball" succeeds not because it's the "feel-good hit of the summer" or an "uplifting tale of people who overcame amazing odds," but because it shows how guys whose bodies have been radically altered can still be major hardasses and assholes.

Seriously, I'm not sure what was more impressive in this movie ... the insight into what it's like to be a quadriplegic who plays this game or the politics and attitudes surrounding the Paralympics in Athens. Sure, I like learning how these guys went from "normal" people to wheelchaired athletes. But I loved the accusations of betrayal and quests for revenge.

The movie follows the U.S. quad rugby team from 2002 to 2004, focusing on certain players and their paths to the team. At the same time, we see the Canadian team coached by a former U.S. quad rugby star, who some might say "defected" after a falling-out. Finally, we get a third story arc with a newly paralyzed man contemplating his future, including the possibility of murderball.

All this is in a nice tight package, and if that sounds a little risque, well, so were the quad rugby players. That's another great thing about "Murderball": no sugarcoating. Along with the physical slamming and banging, we see the rough side of these guys off the court. That includes their attitudes about their sport vs. the Special Olympics -- "We're not going for a hug ... we're going for a f*cking gold medal" -- as well as the questions everyone wants to ask but usually doesn't. (In a word: sex. It's hilarious.)

Like I said, hugely entertaining all the way around, and one of the better documentaries I've seen in recent years. It helps that it's a true documentary vs. that Michael Moore bullsh*t. Here's a tip, fat man: Let people in front of the camera do they're thing. If not, I'll sick Zupan on your ass.