I have high hopes for making the Ouija national team. I been working on my game for years and I think now is the time; I anxiously await representing the nether-United States at the Ouija Universal Championship Heats (OUCH) next season.
In the meantime, have some of that chess stuff. I suppose if you have to get into a board game, and you have no respect for sheer luck, that one seems as good as any. Today’s film is about chess legend and Cold War icon Bobby Fischer (Tobey Maguire). Historically, Bobby Fischer is one of a uniquely select group of magnificent American icons. This group includes Barry Bonds and Ronald Reagan and is distinguished by fellows of great accomplishment who are worshipped by deliberately tunnel-visioned sycophants. Seriously, you have to be wearing blinders to love these guys. Bobby Fischer was brilliant and, at his best, perhaps the greatest chess player the world has ever known; he was also a bigot, a primadonna and a paranoid lunatic, and those are his lucid days.
Post WWII chess was dominated by Russians. I don’t know if this is an historical constant, but it sure was in the 50s and 60s. The game itself became a tool for propaganda, like the Olympics or the Space Race. And, check this out! America’s got a guy. Prodigy Fischer became the youngest Grand Master in the game, whatever that means, and then he sought to become the youngest world champion ever. Except that he whined like a little bitch and quit at the Chess Olympiad in Bulgaria when he discovered collusion among the Russian players. Was there an actual collusion? Probably, but the film isn’t big on discussing the minutiae.
Details just aren’t this film’s thing, man. If you don’t know how to play chess, Pawn Sacrifice sure as Hell won’t let you in on the secret; in fact, even if you do play, odds are you’ll say to yourself at least in the film, “why was that significant? What is important here?” The “villain” for lack of a better word, is the very reserved Boris Spassky (Liev Schreiber). Spassky opens the film as the best player in the world and it seems evident that only Fischer’s schizophrenic and volatile personality will keep at bay the inevitable showdown.
After an exhibition with Russian chess greats at Santa Monica, the teenage Fischer takes a surprising 2nd place finish as a grand disappointment and vanishes, eventually sleeping on the beach. When he awakes to tournament champion Spassky taking a swim, Fischer comes at him the way one might anticipate a professional wrestling match to be advertised. The opening moments of the film
show day #2 of that eventual climax between Spassky and Fischer in Iceland – twenty four matches (only 24?!) to decide who rules all of Middle Earth. Bobby didn’t show up for day #2 because the cameras make too much noise. Seriously. The United States government actually employed two (2) personal handlers, Paul Marshall (Michael Stuhlbarg) and Father Bill Lombardy (Peter Sarsgaard), to deal with Fischer’s unpredictability. Pawn Sacrifice does have some fun with the Father, a fantastic player in his own right, who can be counted on to calm Bobby’s rantings simply by returning to their perpetual oral chess match.
Did I ever mention my brother Andrew was on the national youth Chess Team? They sent him a jacket. Nothing excites the ladies quite like a personally monogrammed chess jacket. I don’t believe he ever needed handlers; congrats, Andy, you’re saner than Bobby Fischer!
Timing-wise, Bobby Fischer is probably the luckiest SOB on the planet – only the particular pocket of political idiocy he lived in would have put up with his crap. Even Mozart didn’t get Fischer’s leeway. The United States needed Bobby to match the Soviet Union on the chessboard (hence, the “Pawn” of Pawn Sacrifice), but Bobby’s personality was such a detriment that it was hard to celebrate his accomplishments. The internet wouldn’t have put up with Bobby for two seconds. His talent could never raise him above his personal P.R. nightmare and everybody knew it. So, in context, Bobby was needed at a time when his exploits could be exhibited world-wide for propaganda reasons while his personality was not. I need you right now, 1970s!
♪I don’t need to bring out my castle
Just because you took my pawn
And I won’t miss your Sicilian hassle
I’ll just blame it on Red Dawn
If I don’t listen to the Prez himself
Why would I bother with all else?
I hate Jews and Poles … and maybe elves
This phone needs some dismantling
And I’ll tell myself it’s all their fault
‘Cause I’m the king of Cold War ranting♫
Rated PG-13, 115 Minutes
D: Edward Zwick
W: Steven Knight (seriously? Did he get any help from Stephen Bishop? Perry King? Queen Latifah?)
Genre: Bios you probably wish weren’t made
Type of person most likely to enjoy this film: Cold War historians
Type of person least likely to enjoy this film: Bobby Fischer fans
♪ Parody inspired by “The King of Wishful Thinking”
