Jonathan Cross (Chris Klein) had a little trouble in his hometown so he took his skater-jock act on the road and got into Rollerball, your basic sport of the Future of Unbridled Capitalism, but this is no-way, no-how any kind of remake or reinvention or reinterpretation of 1975's Rollerball. Instead, you have the meathead football player from Election; rapster/actster L.L. "Don't Call It a Comeback" Cool J in full sidekick position; the great, bad-movie-proof Jean Reno as the bad guy; and erstwhile über-mannequin Rebecca Romijn-Stamos in a flick that's more like an attempt at remaking The Fast and the Furious. So instead of nitro-burning street rods, you've got street luges crashing into shit, motorcycles, and a bunch of crazy cats and kittens wearing leather and zooming around a roller-derby track while trying not to look like they're in Starlight Express. Which all poses a great Existential Movie Question: Good, bad, or ugly, how can a movie with so much stuff in it--plus a big, loud soundtrack, a creepy life-during-wartime-on-CNN night-vision chase sequence, and all sorts of swooshy, choppy, video-enhanced sports-TV-editing tricks, and a brief glimpse of a major portion of Romijn-Stamos' bosom--be so incredibly narcotizing?