University of Virginia Library

CINEMA

Reality Or Illuminated Plastic?

By PAUL CHAPLIN

When I first saw "Medium
Cool," I thought the subject of a
roller derby might make a
fascinating documentary. To my
surprise, someone else thought so
too, and we now have "Derby."
While this film isn't the type I had
in mind, it certainly has a better
concept behind it than I had
anticipated.

Director Robert Kaylor takes us
"backstage" and we hear the rough
talk of the derby participants. Into
the dressing room comes Mike
Snell, a young man with a few
suggestions on how the team can
rack up a few more points. "Can
you skate?" he's asked. Before we
realize it, we see that Snell wants to
be a member of the derby, and the
film takes off from here and
examines his life, as well as that of
derby star Charlie O'Connell.

The results are fascinating, Snell
works at a tire manufacturing plant
in Akron, Ohio, and makes $147 a
week, and his wife makes $95 a
week as a cocktail waitress. His
brother Butch, a hefty arrogant
youth, lives with them and their
two children. You can see it, hear
it, and find it somewhat hard to
believe; this is a real family, not a
fictional one.

'Derby:' Losing Identity On Wheels

We go to the movies to lose
our identities in the darkness and
watch dreams in the form of
whirling strips of illuminated
plastic. But "Derby" shows us a
real world, and, as a good
documentary should, the effect is
unnerving. These people really
would listen to Tammy Wynette
singing "D-I-V-O-R-C-E," and
"Stand By Your Man." Like
Firesign theatre suggests, this film is
not "Porgie and Mutthead" or
"Five Easy Pieces," but an attempt
to record reality for
entertainment's sake.

The effect of knowing that
these are real people gets disturbing
when we remember it is a movie.
We wonder how they could be so
frank about their personal lives
while the cameras were there
grinding away. You'll see what I
mean in the scene with Christina
Snell and Donna. Was this restaged
for the benefit of the camera? We
want to know this, and I for one
would like to see the distributors of
documentaries have program notes
available at theatres, explaining
how long the film crew worked on
the film, if the people involved
asked for any scenes to be
omitted, and so forth.

Such, however, will probably
never happen. Directors of
documentaries, like Fred Wiseman
and the Mayles brothers, want us to
believe that those flickering images
are the truth. We're not supposed
to sit there and say "It's only a
movie," or even consider that an
editor's scissors may have helped
stretch the truth. And thus the
dilemma: we either accept the film
or reject it.

"Derby", though, can be
accepted on at least one account.
The feelings voiced in the film are
those that many of us have heard
before. The fear of war, the wish to
get ahead and better oneself, and
the fascination with the bizarre are
all American universals, which cross
economic, social, educational, and
racial lines. While I wouldn't want
to be a roller derby fan, I could
recognize those people and feel a
little closer to them as fellow
human beings. That is an
achievement for any film, in
addition to being entertaining and
offering us a slice of life we might
never see.

(Now at the University)