Rollerball, the James Caan starring dystopian action drama, is perhaps most famous for the disastrous 2002 remake that it inspired, yet taken on its own merits its a largely enjoyable, if overlong example of the cockaigne cinema of the mid to late seventies. Alongside such films as the original Death Race and Michael Crichton’s Westworld the fears of contemporary America were put on display and attacked beneath thinly veiled guises, usually involving corporate treachery and commentary on post-cold war nuclear politics. Rollerball has its fair share of the expected stereotypes, albeit it is with good humour that the stereotypes are not only included, but in their importance and execution. 

The sport of Rollerball involves grown men flying around an arena wearing old-school 1970′s style roller-skates, which was never gonna prove to be especially credible, but somehow its even more surreal than one would imagine. The only thing even more obscure than this base fact, is the sight of Sonny Corleone flying around an arena wearing old-school roller-skates. It’s all very peculiar. In amidst all of this madness lies a rather effective layer of cinematography, filming the action in a better than expected manner.  

As per the requirements of this particular subgenre, there’s satire aplenty, from the corporate headquarters shot to look like a pair of breasts to the “extravagent” lifestyle of the superstar ball players, complete with female homehelper. While its hardly as scathing as the subtext behind something like Verhoeven’s Robocop, its initially successful. Effectively though, Rollerball proves to be a little too dull to justify its extortionate running time.