Derby (1971)

          At its best, the cinema-verité style of documentary filmmaking gave the world such valuable artifacts as Grey Gardens (1975), which presents the activities of fringe-dwelling eccentrics without judgmental commentary. Yet every cinematic style creates problems when taken to extremes, and the shortcomings of verité become evident while watching Derby, which is about roller derby. Since the film lacks narration or any other form of context, the parallel storylines about an aspirant and a successful player don’t connect as strongly as they should. In the aspirant storyline, wannabe Mike Snell comes across as a fool willing to quit his factory job in order to try his luck at a sport he’s never attempted, even though he has a wife and children to support. Does he have potential? Are his exploits meant to be a cautionary tale about recklessness, or an inspirational saga about following one’s dreams? Director Robert Kaylor and his collaborators withhold so much information that we don’t even know if Snell makes it to training camp, much less professional competition.

          The scenes with derby professional Charlie O’Connell are more informative, simply because O’Connell is a motor-mouthed braggart, but again the lack of context is problematic—did the filmmakers elect to follow him because he’s typical or unique? Viewers can’t even discern whether O’Connell is as talented as he proclaims, since vignettes displaying action during games move so quickly that it’s hard to tell who’s skating at any given moment. Seemingly random cuts back and forth between women’s and men’s games exacerbate the murkiness. Oh, well.

          Viewers who accept that Derby doesn’t answer its own questions can still find interesting things to watch. The sports-action scenes are photographed in an exciting way, with the camera moving at top speed alongside the players to catch every brawl, crash, and high-velocity knockdown. A clear picture is painted of fans demanding and rewarding violence, so there’s a quiet statement about the dark side of the American character. Similarly, the Snell scenes tell a grim story about the lives of uneducated laborers. For lack of a more gentle term, Mike and his intimates seem like white trash, especially when Mike’s wife and one of her gal pals hector a neighbor lady with accusations of being a slut. Today, entire reality-show franchises rest on the shoulders of people like the Snells—but it’s hard to figure out what slovenly housekeeping and vulgar tirades have to do with roller derby.

Derby: FUNKY

Unholy Rollers (1972)

          A serviceable melodrama set in the world of roller derby, Unholy Rollers is a fairly typical Roger Corman production in that it blends sex, violence, and an underdog antihero. For the most part, the picture avoids outright exploitation elements, so it makes for comparatively guiltless viewing. There’s even a certain scrappy charm to Unholy Rollers, since the cheap production values suit the story about a working-class woman trying to take control of her own destiny. Accordingly, it doesn’t matter much that characterization, dramatic tension, and narrative momentum are lacking—it’s all about the vibe. Claudia Jennings, the lovely former Playboy Playmate of the Year who starred in a handful of ’70s B-movies before dying in a 1979 car accident at the age of 29, plays Karen Walker, a factory worker who quits her job and then seeks employment with a Los Angeles roller-derby team. Ballsy and tough, Karen quickly proves herself a formidable and unpredictable athlete, knocking down competitors with kicks and punches at top speed. Thanks to her good looks, Karen scores a number of endorsement deals even as she competes with the team’s former top player, Mickey (Betty Ann Rees), and watches a new would-be star, Beverly (Charlene Jones), gain traction. The threadbare narrative also includes Karen’s friendship with two buddies from her factory days, as well as her romantic involvement with a married man.
          In lieu of a fully realized storyline, Unholy Rollers has lots of vibrant stuff. Not scenes, mind you, just stuff. Fights on the skate track. A seduction scene at a gun range. A near-rape in a bar. Chaos in a grocery store. Although there’s rarely anything in this movie to engage the mind, there’s usually something to engage the eye. For instance, Jennings’ acting is weak, with her thick Midwestern accent making even her toughest line readings sound slightly comical, but she’s got sex appeal to burn. Additionally, one suspects that Martin Scorsese, credited here as “supervising editor,” had a hand in two of Unholy Rollers’ most appealing tropes—the inclusion of zesty ’50s songs and irreverent stadium-announcer patter on the soundtrack. (The announcers’ voiceover does a lot of the heavy lifting, in terms of conveying story information.) It’s also reasonable to assume that Scorsese designed the zippy editing that drives the sports scenes. As for the film’s director, Vernon Zimmerman built a wildly erratic filmography during his brief career. In addition to this flick, his fictional features include the bizarre Deadhead Miles (1973), for which Terrence Malick shares credit, and the offbeat Fade to Black (1980). Good luck finding a consistent directorial voice while perusing these offerings.

Unholy Rollers: FUNKY

Kansas City Bomber (1972)

On paper, this one sounds pretty fabulous as far as ’70s kitsch goes. Sex symbol Raquel Welch plays a single mom who tries to conquer the rough-and-tumble world of roller derby when other professional avenues prove unavailable. Kevin McCarthy, the star of the original Invasion of the Body Snatchers, plays the oily team owner who courts Welch and persuades her to join his roller-derby empire, spotting a potential marquee attraction. Norman Alden, the journeyman actor known for craptastic ’70s TV like Electra Woman and Dyna Girl, plays a gentle-giant skater prone to inflicting serious bodily harm when he’s not looking out for Welch’s welfare. The cast also includes Jodie Foster in an early role. But the sum of Kansas City Bomber is far less than its parts, even with some of those parts belonging to Welch. The reason is simple: The movie’s no fun. It’s actually a rather grim affair, as if the filmmakers thought the world would take a roller-derby movie starring Raquel Welch seriously. As for the star, she’s not really awful in this movie so much as just plain boring, which is disappointing because she seems sincere about demonstrating chops that she simply doesn’t have. Alden tries just as hard, but his performance as a mentally challenged individual borders on the cringe-worthy. So within this dramatic vacuum, McCarthy probably comes off best, because he at least plays the one note of his vile character effectively. The plot, standard leering stuff about predatory men who want Welch and bitchy roller-derby queens who want to put her down, would be tolerable if the action on the rink was exciting. No such luck. The sports scenes are sloppy and repetitive, without any of the crazy hair-pulling fun one might expect. Kansas City Bomber should be a permanent resident of the cinematic penalty box.

Kansas City Bomber: LAME