We’ve seen a number of Raquel Welch movies, and we appreciate her as a personality, but she wasn’t a good actress. Not to speak ill of the dead and all that, but it’s just true. She was unsubtle and inconsistent. She made some highly entertaining films, but an accomplished artiste she was not. Kansas City Bomber, which premiered in the U.S. today in 1972, is a drama that uses the milieu of roller derby but follows the blueprint of classic boxing flicks in which a fighter is eventually asked to take a dive in order to get ahead. Because of the gender flip involved in Welch playing this archetype, an extra layer of plot involves a usurious money man who’s having his way with her in bed. But the theme of an athlete selling their soul remains familiar.
Welch was a tremendous sex symbol, generally considered the hottest thing going ever since 1966’s One Million Years B.C., so Hollywood, in its infinite wisdom, sometimes had her hook up with transparently undeserving men in her flicks so her male fans could scream, “Noooooo!” In this case it’s too-old and too-fat team owner Kevin McCarthy. The jealousy that her preferential treatment by management causes among her co-skaters generates much of the movie’s conflict, but a secondary drama is that Welch’s character K.C. Carr must face one of life’s most sobering realizations—that no matter how good a person you may feel (or pretend) you are, it’s everyone else who gets to decide whether you’re actually just an asshole. You can claim to be misunderstood, but it makes no difference at all.
In the film the other skaters think Welch is a sexual opportunist who’ll do anything behind the scenes—and between the sheets—for advancement. Welch understands on some level that it’s her face and body that get her to the top ranks of roller derby. She can go, “Gee! I guess he just really appreciates my talent!” all she wants, but nobody is buying it. We think that’s a fine cinematic premise, but the problem with Kansas City Bomber is that it’s silly and faddish. The drama is way over the top, and the introspection Welch should bring to the role doesn’t resonate. Which is surprising. You’d think she’d really identify with this character—again, not to speak ill of the recently departed. We adore Welch. As a persona she was tops. As a portrayer of deep and affecting emotion… well…
















