For the Love of the Game

I swear, the sci-fi of the 1970s is just weird. Sure, you can go back to the 1950s and see a movie industry grappling with the basic concepts of sci-fi, like how interstellar travel would work, what aliens would look like, how the future could even exist, but it did seem like things slowly settled down some through the 1960s leading into the 1970s. Shows like Star Trek still had a lot of weird moments, but the whole concept of space, the future, and where we as humanity were headed started to come together. It felt like the future we were seeing in movies and on TV maybe could actually be a real future.

All that feels like it was tossed aside in the 1970s. Maybe it didn’t feel like that at the time, and we do have to bear in mind that I’m viewing things from a few decades reserve at this point, but things got weird in the 1970s in a very 1970s way. Where other decades tried to predict what the future would look like and how things would change, it seems like creators in the 1970s said, “the 1970s is the peak of our civilization. Even if things change, nothing is going to change about our fashion, or decor, or how we view the world, man.” Everything made in the 1970s feels distinctly 1970s (at least until Star Wars came along), and it dates the decade in a way unlike other sci-fi eras.

Or maybe it’s just that I keep watching crap like Rollerball, a film that feels so distinctly 1970s that you can’t even imagine it getting made in another era. Hell, they tried, with a remake in 2002 and it bombed so hard at the Box Office that no one has even mentioned trying to remake the film again. Which is a pity because there’s a very specific, very cheesy quality to Rollerball that feels timeless despite everything about this movie screaming that it came from the 1970s. It’s dated in appearance but has a bonkers premise that transcends all time, making it perfect for a good remake that could actually honor what this film did right.

James Caan stars as Johnathan E., the most famous player in the sport of Rollerball. Playing on the Houston team, Jonathan has led the team to multiple championship wins in a sport where, up until now, it seemed like no one person could be the best. Despite this, Jonathan rose to be a star, the best of the best, the Champion of Rollerball. This is something the rules of Energy Corporation, led by the chairman Mr. Bartholomew (John Houseman), cannot stand as it could shake the foundation of civilization to its core.

After the Corporate Wars, corporations took over all control of society. The goal was to create a utopia, one where everyone had what they needed and didn’t question the authority of the corporations. But Johnathan is different. He inspires people, which could take away the power of the corporations. Energy Corporation wants Johnathan to retire, telling him it’s time, but he refuses. In retaliation they begin changing the rules of the sport, more and more, to make it harder for Johnathan to win, and yet he does, again and again. It’s one man against the foundations of society, all laid out on the rink of Rollerball.

Rollerball feels specifically of its time and place. Watching it reminded me of many other sci-fi films of the era, like Futureworld, Logan’s Run, and Soylent Green. It’s a film deeply concerned with the rise of corporate America (which, in retrospect, was spot on) and how their claims of a utopia will likely fail to appear. At the same time, it also feels very much like a film fighting against the “evils of communism”. Everyone is guaranteed a safe and comfortable life in this corporately controlled world, but only so long as they conform and don’t do anything to stand out. Don’t be special, don’t be unique, or the wrongthink gestapo will come for you.

Well, sort of. The film doesn’t go directly towards the Nazi route in its design and production, but it does at least lean heavily towards corporate fascism in a way. All knowledge is controlled, digitized and held at a central library that only a select few can visit (and even fewer can gain full access to). The corporations control everything, all the media, how everything is broadcast, all of it. Not a single major decision comes out without the corporate board signing off on it, and it creates a kind of fascist state where you conform or, possibly, you die.

That is the message that, I think, Rollerball was going for, that ceding control to a controlling entity leaves you less safe, less secure, and less free. The movie sort of ambles around that point, in the usual 1970s pacing (so everything is slow and takes too long to get to the point) and at times tries (and fails) to underline it, making its whole message both long-winded and rather muddled. I get what the film was trying to say with its setting and story, I just don’t think it does a very good job at actually saying it all that well.

With all that said, what we’re really here for is the sport itself, and on that front Rollerball delivers. The sport is ridiculous, and unlike the slow pace of the rest of the film, it’s directed and shot with high energy. It practically feels like two films, the one on the rink and the one off, and only the parts on the rink are really worth watching. Thankfully there’s three long sequences of the sport in the film, and they all live up to expectations… and then some.

The sport itself is ridiculous. Teams of ten players, featuring seven on rollerskates and three on motorcycles, ride around an angled rink, battling for position and control over a hard, metal ball. The goal is to get the ball, do a lap, and then sink the ball into the goal mounted in the wall of the rink. Score more than the other team and you win. It’s fast, frenetic, and very dangerous as the sport is, aside from a few minor concessions, full contact and no-holds barred. It’s so enjoyable to watch and I really wish the skating sequences were more of the film than what we got.

Of course I might also think that because not only are the story sequences off the rink slow, but it’s led by James Caan doing his best to make an unlikable character less likable. Jonathan E. comes across as a very self-centered guy. Yes, he’s the best at the sport and he doesn’t want to retire, which is understandable, but even people he relies on and cares about are telling him that he should quit. Whenever he talks about the future, even with other people, he only even talks about what he wants, what he desires. Even reconnecting with his ex-wife, who he could have back if he retired, he never talks about what she meant or who she was, it’s just what he wanted from her. You can see why she left him originally.

Caan’s performance doesn’t help matters. He ambles and mutters his way through the film, making it hard to understand anything he’s saying. I’m not sure what he thought he was doing with his performance, maybe trying to play Johnathan like a cowboy slowly coming to himself. All it really meant was that I had to crank up the volume on the movie, and then turn on subtitles, just to understand what the hell he was saying. It leads to a character that really doesn’t seem to know what he wants, or what would be best for himself or those around him, he just knows he’s good at a thing and he’s gonna keep doing it no matter what. Considering he’s rich, powerful, and has everything given to him, it’s hard to feel bad for the guy, really.

In the end Rollerball is two films mashed together and only one of them is very good. I could watch the sport sequences all day, but the story parts are slow, sputtering along until we get back to the good stuff. I understand what the story is supposed to be saying but it never really brings it all together in a satisfying way. When you go to see Rollerball you do it for the ridiculous, awesome to watch action. You just have to suffer through a number of long and boring sequences to get there. If only that wasn’t the case.