The Klein Brothers are a trio of enterprising young filmmakers who have devoted a significant portion of their lives to chronicling the exciting world of inline skating. Though they made two inline-skating films before Wheels: An Inline Story, their latest film is the first with a narrative. But for iconoclasts like the Kleins, the whole concept of narrative is to be interpreted rather loosely. Instead of utilizing the sort of misfit-skater-defeats-gang-of-bullies-plot that made 1993's Airborne an inline-skating classic, the Kleins seem to have patterned their film after Roger Corman's acidsploitation cycle of the late '60s. Those films tend to employ a story arc that goes something like this: a) man drops some acid; b) man sees freaky-ass shit while tripping; c) man's brain is boggled; d) man re-evaluates life. The infinitely more wholesome Wheels, on the other hand, follows this similar story arc: a) young skater does some gnarly skater tricks; b) young skater is hit by a car and slips into a coma; c) while in a coma, young skater sees some totally rad skater tricks being performed; d) young skater re-evaluates life. Effortlessly combining rad-ass skating footage with the very latest in home-video-editing techniques, the Kleins have boldly foregone dialogue and character development in favor of stream-of-consciousness narration that encourages children to stay in school and appreciate their friends and family. But Wheels' real selling point, beyond its uplifting message and numerous shots of skaters suffering groin injuries, is the music of Hanson, the freakishly successful singing trio which no doubt consented to giving the Kleins' use of its music well before its rise to superstardom. Inexplicably, Hanson receives second billing in the credits to the still-unknown band Stripe, which demonstrates its versatility by contributing bad pastiches of both The Beatles and Alice In Chains. While Wheels: An Inline Story should delight its core audience of stoners, Hanson completists, skaters, and pedophiles, anyone not interested in 25 minutes of amateurish camera tricks and skating stunts should probably steer clear.