Siete mesas de billar francés

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The Goya Awards are Spain’s main national film awards. They are considered by many in Spain, and internationally, to be the Spanish equivalent of the Oscars. So imagine my excitement upon learning that Grace Querejeta’s 2007 film Siete mesas de billar francés (translated as Seven French Billiards Tables) received 10 Goya nominations, including two wins for Best Leading Actress (Maribel Verdú) and Best Supporting Actress (Amparo Baró).

To put that in perspective, there are 53 movies that have earned at least 10 Oscar nominations. That pantheon includes Lawrence of Arabia, The Sting, Network, Star Wars, and Braveheart, to name a handful with exactly 10 nominations. Pretty impressive company.

Among billiards movies, only two have walked the red carpet: The Hustler (nine nominations, including two wins) and twenty-five years later The Color of Money (four nominations, including one win).

This movie should have been cinematic oro. What a disappointment.

Siete mesas de billar francés feels like a telenovela, with a bunch of broken relationships and budding romances fighting for viewer attention. The movie begins with Angela (Verdú) and her son Guille traveling to the big city to see the boy’s grandfather. Upon arriving, they not only learn he has passed, but that his billiard hall, 7 Siete Mesas, with seven French tables (i.e., carom billiards tables) is now in decrepit condition and that the grandfather had a number of outstanding debts. For Angela, the bad news keeps coming, as she subsequently is confronted by the police to learn that her husband has both disappeared and has a secret second family.

Faced with a panorama of bad news, Angela decides to stay in the big city and restore the billiard hall to its former glory. This includes re-assembling the hall’s one-time billiard team — now a bunch of gruff, ornery oldsters – to compete in the upcoming tournament with a chance of winning the prize money.

Tempers flare and tensions rise, but given the movie’s melodramatic predictability, the players are able to put aside old history and reconnect. There’s even a place on team Siete Mesas for the dead father’s crotchety girlfriend. Eventually, it’s Angela who must reconcile her past and truly come to terms with her father’s death (but not before ripping a number of portraits of him off the wall and shattering them on the floor – oh my!).

Billiards enthusiasts will be equally disappointed, as Siete mesas de billar francés talks about the sport much more than it shows it. Certainly, the title sequence left me hopeful, as black-and-white photos of carom billiards players in their prime faded in and out. This was nostalgia for the game of yesteryear. But, aside from some occasional three-cushion shots, which always impress me for their perfect manipulation of the balls, the present-day game never materialized. Even the upcoming tournament never actually starts, though there is a bit of surprise as to who rounds out the team when one of the players steals the winnings and goes on the lam.

Siete mesas de billar francés is mildly entertaining, and Ms. Verdú is powerful in the lead, though not as much fun to watch as she was in Y tu mamá también or Pan’s Labyrinth. But, given its accolades, this film ultimately felt like a table scratch.

Siete mesas de billar francés is available to watch on Amazon Prime.

Pick Pockets

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I was not familiar with the English television presenter and comedian Tom O’Connor, who died from Parkinson’s about two months ago. But, an alert about his passing showed up in my news feed because in addition to hosting such popular British game shows as Crosswits, Name that Tune, and Password, he also hosted a snooker-themed game show called Pick Pockets.

What was this?

Of course, there have been snooker-themed game shows, such as Pot the Question from 1984 or the widely popular Big Break, which ran from 1991-2002, but this one had clearly eluded my research. Wikipedia lists over 500 British game shows, but there’s no mention of Pick Pockets.  Nor does it appear on the British Game Show Wiki, the website UK Game Shows, or searching the BBC. Yet, sure enough, there on YouTube, user gareth11077 had posted the pilot episode from 1988.  You can watch it here.

Fortunately, I was able to contact gareth11077, who I subsequently learned was Gareth McGinley, author of Heart Breaks: The Tony Knowles Story, and a self-described enthusiast and researcher of ‘80s snooker. Through my email exchange with him, as well as a separate email exchange with Trevor Chance, the creator of Pick Pockets (as well as the founder of Legends, Europe’s longest running live tribute show), I learned that the show I had watched was an untransmitted pilot, as the series actually never aired. The hope was to get it onto ITV, but the network’s commissioner at the time, Greg Dyke, allegedly had a particular dislike for snooker that not only left Pick Pockets homeless, but more important, signaled a “death knell of snooker on ITV, as well.”

According to Mr. Chance, Pick Pockets was inspired by a game of snooker he was playing (and was not influenced by its forbearer Pot the Question). Produced by Tyne Tees, the ITV television franchise for Northeast England, the show combined “the knowledge of our teams with the snooker skills of our guest professionals,” as Mr. O’Connor shared in his opening.

Pick Pockets had two competing teams, each pairing a local contestant with a celebrity. In the pilot episode, the celebrities were TV actor George Layton and English women’s cricket captain Rachel Heyhoe Flint. The teams, in turn, were each paired with a professional snooker player.  The episode’s two players were John Parrott, who one year later would lose the World Snooker Championship to Steve Davis, and the “Silver Fox” David Taylor, a familiar face in the ‘80s though after 1980 he never made it past the quarterfinals of the World Championship.  Completing the celebrity lineup was Len Ganley, the show’s “resident referee” and scorekeeper (who refereed four World Championships between 1983 and 1993).

(At the end of the episode, the audience is promised that next week’s episode – which was never made – would star Alex Higgins and Willie Throne, two true giants of the sport.  Oh well.)

Gameplay begins by each snooker player breaking their opponent’s rack. The 15 red balls have no value; they are obstacles to interfere with potting the colored balls and can be removed in the first round by each team correctly answering trivia questions, such as “how many toes does a rhinoceros have? (three) or “what is a jumbuck to an Australian?” (a sheep).

Once a ball is removed for each correct answer, round two begins. In this round, the players seek to pot the colored balls in order, while avoiding the remaining red balls. The pockets have different point values, and points are earned by a combination of answering a trivia question and potting the ball.  The team that has the most points advances to the third round.

In this final round, the non-celebrity contestant must answer six trivia questions. Each right answer earns his snooker-playing teammate 10 seconds to run a table consisting of the six colored balls. The player wants to leave as much time on the clock because once the table is run, the remaining time will be used to pot a single gold ball, which is worth 1000 pounds (or approximately $1700 USD in 1988).

While clearly dated through today’s viewing lens, the show was entertaining and had a certain imbued charm, principally due to Mr. O’Connor’s jovial banter. It’s a shame it never aired. Evidently, the ingredients were right, as Big Break proved only a few years later with a format that is uncannily similar to Pick Pockets.

Kiss of Death

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“There’s no such thing as bad publicity,” said PT Barnum, the mega-successful 19th century American showman and circus owner.

One has to wonder if that proverb weighed on the minds of Kiss of Death (KOD), the six-member women’s billiards team, who opted to star in Kiss of Death in 2010. The eponymous web series followed the women in the 12 weeks leading up to the May 2010 BCA Pool League National 8-Ball Championship, where they would compete in the Women’s Masters Team Division for the first time.

Presented by NYCgrind.com, a now defunct New York​-based online pool and billiards magazine, Kiss of Death was a series of weekly five-minute webisodes featuring members of the KOD team:  Alison Fischer (the editor of NYCgrind), “Queen B” Borana Andoni, Olga Gashcova, Michelle Li, Emily “The Billiard Bombshell” Duddy, and team captain Gail “g2” Glazebrook. Having won the Women’s Open Championship in 2009, KOD hoped not only history would repeat, but also that the lead-up to the tournament would make for engaging viewing.

Let’s start with the obvious: this web series was terrible.

I made it through the first four webisodes before I nodded off due to complete boredom. Judging from the number of views on YouTube, I’m probably not alone. (Episode 2 had 8,690 views. Episode 5 had just 1,737 views.) You can watch the first episode here.

Kiss of Death suffered from a fatal mix of lack of script and plot; an over-reliance on a single song for each episode; the in-your-face promotion of Poison Billiards; ridiculous montages of the women being cute for the camera; and an insufficient amount of enjoyable billiards. By episode 4, when half the time is spent watching the women watch themselves on episode 3 (oooh…how meta), I knew I would not make it through the remaining two thirds.

Apparently, the KOD women did not fare much better. The first place Women’s Masters Team prize of $3500 was won by Magoo’s Masters from Tulsa, Oklahoma.  Team Tick Tick Boom from Chicago took second, followed by team Logistically Challenge.

But, PT Barnum was onto something. While the web series was a bust, it most certainly sowed the seeds for a future wave of media and self-promotion, primarily focused on some of these same New York based female billiards players.

About 18 months after Kiss of Death, Gail Glazebrook teamed up with Jennifer “9mm” Barretta to launch Rack Starz. In partnership with Amsterdam Billiards, local home court to many of these women, Rack Starz featured a dozen “sexy intelligent women from all over the world brought together to take the game of pool out of the smoke-filled back room and into the mainstream limelight. The Rack Starz are not only athletes, but they are also moms, models, actresses, nutritionists, CEOs, and marketing analysts, with many holding advanced degrees.”[1]

The 12 members of Rack Starz featured the original six KOD members, plus Neslihan Gurel, Supadra Geronimo, Caroline Pao, Jennifer Barretta, Yomalin Feliz, and Liz Ford.

While RackStarz would fizzle out years later, the women successfully leveraged the early excitement and media attention to star in another web series, Sharks, in 2012.  This equally ill-fated series featured a number of the same women (i.e., Jennifer Barretta, Borana Andoni, Caroline Pao) portraying fictional ladies who hang out around Amsterdam Billiards.  Unfortunately, some enjoyable billiards scenes could not compensate for the series’ cheap production value, hackneyed soap opera dialogue, and paper-thin characters.

Maybe it didn’t matter.

The HustlersThree years later, two of the NYC women – Jennifer Barretta and Emily Duddy — skyrocketed past their niche web audience to that of mainstream television by starring in TruTV’s new pseudo-reality show The Hustlers about a group of pool players vying for the top spot on Steinway Billiards’ “The List.” Unfortunately, the show elicited strong reactions, many of them negative, from viewers, who found the premise and the characters preposterous.

TruTV opted not to renew The Hustlers. For a while, that decision appeared to mark the end of the NYC billiards women’s media run.

And yet, it did not.

In 2019, Emily Duddy was back, this time in the new Bravo series In a Man’s World, executive produced by Oscar winner Viola Davis.  Far more serious than any of the previous billiards incarnations, the “Emily” episode focused on exposing the sexism women experience every day through temporary gender transformation and hidden cameras. Ms. Duddy, in makeup and prosthetics, became Alex, a male pool player.  Jennifer Barretta came back on camera as friend and confidante. And the cartoonish Finnegan, most recently seen on The Hustlers, but even popping up way back when on Kiss of Death, was the uber-chauvinist who learns a thing or two about disparaging women.

I guess Kiss of Death wasn’t such a kiss of death after all.

[1]      https://www.newswire.com/news/rack-starz-launch-new-website-93762

Top 7 Billiards Companies Starring in TV and Movies

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It’s hard to overstate the financial impact of effective product placement in television and film. After Tom Cruise wore Ray-Ban Wayfarer sunglasses in Risky Business, sales of the model increased from 18,000 to 4 million. Hershey saw a 65% increase in profits after a famous extraterrestrial took a liking to Reese’s Pieces in E.T. And Toy Story provided a 4500% boost to sales of Etch A Sketch immediately after the film’s release.

Regrettably, billiards manufacturers and artisans cannot point to similar successes. (In fact, probably the most famous billiards product placement was in The Color of Money when Vincent crowed about his Balabushka, but that was actually a Joss cue!)

But if pristine product placement has proved elusive, there are a handful of compelling examples of billiards industry makers who have “broken the first wall,” stepping out of the product shadows to become the star of their own episode, specifically television documentary and science reality series.  Here’s my list, from worst to best, of the Top 7 Billiards Companies Starring in TV and Movies.

  1. Falcon Cue Ltd. Seven slow minutes elapse before viewers of the low-budget How Its Made episode, “Air Filters, Billiard Cues, Ice Sculptures Suits,” learn that the cues getting assembled belong to Falcon, the Canadian cue company launched in the early 1990s. This lifeless 2005 episode plays like a high-school-made how-to video, with 15 separate steps detailed, from step one (use a circular donut-shaped lathe to turn a block of maple into a cylindrical cue butt) to step 15 (buff the cue stick). Fortunately for Falcon, step 12 addresses using a motorized stamping machine to apply the company logo.
  2. Thurston. The oldest snooker table manufacturer in the world, Thurston features in “The Bow, Ferrofluid, The Billiard Table” episode of Incredible Inventions from 2017. Viewers are walked through the step-by-step process of assembling a table, from selecting the timber and cutting the wood to ironing the table cloth and fitting the cushions.
  3. Albany-Hyatt Billiard Ball Company. Don Wildman, host of Mysteries at the Museum, searches museums for relics that “reveal the secrets of our past.” In the 2018 “Lunar Fender Bender, Opera Angels and Billiard Balls” episode, he travels to the Albany Institute of History and Art, which features a 140-year-old box of the Hyatt Company’s 16 balls. Though the company went out of business in 1986, it carries the name of John Wesley Hyatt, whose invention of the celluloid billiard ball to replace the ivory ball revitalized the industry (and saved a lot of elephants). The story of that invention, and the company that followed, is told in the episode through a mix of historian voice-overs and actor dramatizations. Fun fact: Hyatt’s original celluloid billiard ball almost failed when the sound it made hitting another ball was too similar to a gunshot. Saloon owners freaked and canceled purchases, forcing Hyatt to update his formula by adding camphor to the mix. The rest is billiards history.
  4. The Cuemaker - Billiards DocumentaryDana Paul Cues. Paul, a maker of pool cues and espresso tampers in upstate New York, is the star of Gary Chin’s short documentary, The Cuemaker. Mr. Chin, a film student at Ithaca College, is on the hunt for the perfect 19.5-oz jump break cue. His quest leads him to Mr. Paul, who is committed to “cue-making perfection” and shares, “I am not attached to [a] particular piece of wood…I’m attached to the idea that it will become, it not treasured, at least respected by you or maybe even your children.”
  5. Valley-Dynamo, Inc. In the world of coin-operated pool tables, Valley-Dynamo is a household name. Unsurprisingly, when the producers of Machines: How They Work wanted to tackle coin-operated tables, they turned to Valley-Dynamo. Airing on The Science Channel in 2016, the “Pool Tables, Gas Fired Boilers and Shopping Carts” episode combined photo-real CGI with factory footage to highlight the assembly of the dead rail, the mechanics of the coin recognition slot, and the interior “spider web of runways” that transport the balls.
  6. Chuck Jacobi, Best Billiards. In 2016, Jill Wagner, the perky host of Handcrafted America, traveled to New Jersey to learn how Mr. Jacobi, a former military contractor, makes his customized billiards tables. (Viewers may recognize Ms. Wagner as the former host of Wipeout or scantily clad on the pages of lad mags such as Stuff and FHM.) Airing on INSP, the “Woven Rugs, Sunglasses and Billiard Tables” episode from season one featured Mr. Jacobi assembling a frame, “ripping” the rails, creating inlays out of the keys of antique abandoned pianos, and converting a dining room table into a billiards table. His customized tables retail for $3000-$18,000, not including Ms. Wagner’s assistance routing the end piece.
  7. Richard Black Custom Cues. Back in 2005, the television series The Genuine Article answered its question, “Who makes the most beautiful pool cues?” by profiling Hall of Fame cuemaker Richard Black. On the “Puzzles and Pool Cues” episode, Mr. Black discusses his Antipodes cue, with 600 inlays and made from 16 different types of wood from 16 different countries. “Gentleman Jack” Colavita is also interviewed, unequivocally calling Mr. Black the best cue-maker.

So, for billiards companies thinking about how to optimize the return on spend from their marketing budget, it might be time to pursue a starring role on TV or in the movies.

**************

An abridged version of this article originally appeared in BCA Insider (Spring issue, May 2021)

The Goldbergs – “Bad Companions”

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In 1956, billiards was still relatively novel to most Jewish-Americans.  Consider some of the Jews who have made an indelible contribution on the sport.[i] Barry Berhrman, the founder of the prestigious U.S. Open 9-Ball Championship, had just turned 10. Billiards Congress of America Hall of Famer Mike Sigel, whose mother used to complain that he wouldn’t go to Hebrew school because he was too tired from playing pool, was just starting to walk up stairs unassisted. Pool Wars author Jay Helfert is one of the game’s great chroniclers, but at best, he was still a little ankle-biter at that time.

Then, it’s hardly surprising that the 1956 episode “Bad Companions” of the TV sitcom The Goldbergs might find humor in Uncle David (Eli Mintz), a nebbish who has purchased a pool table at an auction but not knowing how to play, enlists the help of some pool hall locals to teach him the game.[ii]

In fact, the bigger surprise might be that such a Jewish sitcom existed at all.  Sure enough, The Goldbergs, created in 1948 by radio star Gertrude Berg, was not only television’s first family sitcom, but also a show squarely and confidently about a Jewish family. Ms. Berg, the show’s writer, producer, and star actress, played the family matriarch, Molly Goldberg.

According to columnist Matthue Roth, Ms. Berg’s “vision of The Goldbergs, from which the show never deviated, was that of an everyday family with simple interactions, believable plots, and guided by a gentle humor. The episodes followed a predictable pattern–family members encounter problems, land in tight spots, and then turn to their familial matriarch to bail them out.”[1]

In “Bad Companions,” Uncle David’s new pool table, a “fabulous gift for the whole family,” becomes a bit of a headache, since his peers either don’t know how to play or aren’t permitted to play by their spouses. Justifying his unfamiliarity with billiards, the family patriarch, Jake (Robert H. Harris), says, “pool is a game that requires leisure, it’s not something you’re born with.”

Undeterred, David recruits a well-mannered gaggle of locals from the Friendly Nook pool hall, paying them to come to his house and teach him pool and promising to be the “best pupil [they] ever had.” While not exactly Machiavellian hustlers, the “professors” – Stosh, Big Louie, Little Louie, Cockeye Mike, and Snake Hip Nellie– show little interest in letting David practice; instead, they take advantage of his family’s hospitality, playing pool for free and delighting in a never-ending buffet of sandwiches and coffee. More attention is given to the composition of the sandwiches (e.g., “cheese on rye with mustard, not so much lettuce”) than to the mechanics of the billiards game.

Tensions start to run high among Uncle David’s family members who feel their magnanimity is being exploited, especially when some of the teachers start using the Goldberg’s phone to place horse racing bets. When Jake finally ejects Uncle David’s friends from his house, David goes down to the pool hall to make amends, only to unwittingly get ensnared in a raid. The judge releases David, calling him the “dupe of unsavory characters” and the product of a poor upbringing.

To show all is not lost, and to prove that Molly is hardly just a naïve sandwich-maker, the episode ends with Molly and David playing a game of pool. Like a pro, Molly announces her shot will “kiss the four ball off the nine and into the side pocket.” It’s a combination designed to impress, though discerning audiences will wonder why there is no sound of a ball falling in the pocket.

The Goldbergs may have had little impact on the future of billiards, but there is no question that Gertrude Berg was a true trailblazer.  Her inspiring comedic style earned her the first Best Actress Emmy in 1951, and laid the groundwork for future comedians, such as Lucille Ball, as well as the domestic family sitcom genre, creating a blueprint for subsequent shows like Leave It to Beaver and Father Knows Best.

Until very recently, “Bad Companions” was available to watch on Jewish Life Television (JLTV), the network founded in 2007 to promote Jewish-themed programming.

[1]      “Jewish Film: The Goldbergs,” by Matthue Roth.

[i]       While it’s hard to argue that “Boston Shorty” Morton Goldberg had an “indelible” influence on billiards, I’d be remiss if I did not give him a special shoutout. Boston Shorty was 40 years old when “Bad Companions” aired. By that time, he had already defeated legends such as Willie Mosconi, Ralph Greenley, Irving Crane, and Jimmie Caras. And, no, The Goldbergs was not named after Boston Shorty.

[ii]       The Goldbergs should not be confused with the currently-running, identically-named ABC sitcom The Goldbergs.

Animated About Billiards Films (Part 2)

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Almost a year ago, I wrote about three short animated billiards films I had discovered:  New York Billiards, an evocative film that traces the path of a billiards ball as it crosses the New York skyline; Inglourious Billiards, a visually bold film that pits two pool opponents against one another to win a woman’s affection; and Fresh Grass, an unclassifiable film about unworldly beings who are resuscitated when a bar patron feeds them billiards balls.

Since that post, I’ve discovered three more billiards animated films – Detours, Scratch, and Killer Cueball – each thematically similar to some degree with one of the trinity members from my original post.

Detours

Similar to Thyra Thorn’s New York Billiards in which the peregrination of a billiards ball creates the dramatic narrative for a wordless film, Nico Bonomolo’s 2014 Italian short film follows the path of an eight-ball across geographies and time. Starting on a traditional pool table, the eight-ball travels through a window into a dog’s mouth, which brings it onto a ship, of which it rolls off into a fishing boat, where it is then ice-packed with fish, where it is then loaded onto a plane, which sadly crashes in a desert, where it is recovered by a local boy, who grows up with it and ultimately gives it to someone on a train, who loses it, so it can wend its way through the streets, only to eventually be recovered by a soldier.

If this sounds like a billiards version of Flat Stanley, you wouldn’t be totally off, though what makes Detours remarkable is the three-minute film is based on animating 900 different frames of hand-painted paintings by Mr. Bonomolo. The film is available to watch here.

Scratch

Much the way animator João Cardoletto spent three years creating Inglourious Billiards as part of a final project for a 2D course, student Sean Coleman spent 10 months in 2008 making his animated film Scratch as his senior thesis at the Southwest University of Visual Arts. Both movies feature two billiards players – one slender and wormish, the other short and ovoid – competing for a prize. And, both feature an array of trick shots. Notably, in Scratch, the egg-shaped adversary makes most of his shorts while jumping in the air, as he is too short to otherwise reach the table.

But, the primary difference between the films is the players’ raison d’être. Whereas in Inglourious Billiards, the bounty is the woman, in Scratch the prize is the ever-growing pot of money. Behind the clever and light-hearted animation is the greatest trope in billiards films: the hustle.  Too bad our Humpty Dumpty-shaped friend appears not to have watched such movies, as his early winnings are quickly reversed when his opponent morphs into a pool shark. Scratch is available to watch here.

Killer Cueball

Rounding out the trio is Paul Carty’s 2013 3D short film, Killer Cueball. Similar to Ida Greenberg’s Fresh Grass, Mr. Carty’s source material is based on the anthropomorphizing of billiards objects, specifically the cue ball and the one- through nine-balls.

Imagine a cue ball that has been “pushed, kicked and scratched, jumped, shot, even had cigarettes put out on him… you can only take so much.”  That life of abuse causes this particular spheroid to snap, transforming into an orange-mohawked cue ball, with an unfortunately Asian caricatured countenance.

Seeking revenge against his nonet of tormentors, he attacks each ball, saving the worst punishment for the 9-ball, which is chased into a Pac-Man maze. But, his ploy backfires when the maze portal leads to the chute of a coin-operated pool table and he is summarily rejected. Labeled “bad”, the cue ball plummets to a hellhole where a spherical-headed devil that plays guitar on a pitchforked cue stick oversees the Devil Ball Tournament (“if you’re here, you’ve already lost”).

But, before playing commences, the other balls, risking shape and life, daringly rescue our protagonist from an infernal fate. Past tensions are mended, and a stadium of solids and stripes welcomes back the cue ball with signs such as “We Forgive Cue” and “Cue-T-Pie.” Killer Cueball is available to watch here.

Our Muse, Walter Tevis

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In the hallowed halls of competitive, individual, indoor sports, the name Walter Tevis should be engraved and canonized.  Mr. Tevis, who died 36 years ago, was an American novelist and short story writer.  And while his corpus was limited with just six novels, the adaptations of half of those novels into movies have had profound cultural and economic impact on the sports he described.

Mr. Tevis first became famous in 1961 when his novel, The Hustler, published two years prior, became the basis for the award-winning film of the same name. The movie The Hustler not only amassed glorious critical reviews, but also resuscitated the billiard industry. Interest and participation in the sport skyrocketed. Allegedly, the number of pool rooms shot up from 4,000 to 19,000 in just five years; organized billiards boomed; and television sports first began to cover straight pool matches.[1]

That kind of impact was unprecedented, but it turned out not to be unique. Fast-forward 23 years and Mr. Tevis’ sixth novel, The Color of Money, a sequel to The Hustler, was adapted into a movie of the same name by director Martin Scorsese in 1986.  And, once again, the billiards industry got its jump-start, albeit not at the same exponential level. Sales of pool tables and cue sticks rose.  According to global research firm A.C. Nielson, the number of players increased from 30 million to 35 million, and the sport attracted a more upscale demographic.[2]

However, it was Mr. Tevis’ posthumous third act – the adaptation of his 1983 novel The Queen’s Gambit into a seven-episode mini-series of the same name on Netflix in 2020 – that broke all the records. This time, it was not for billiards, but for another sport that is more sedentary, more dilatory, and more cerebral.  That sport was chess.

https://youtu.be/CDrieqwSdgI

Sixty two million households watched The Queen’s Gambit in its first 28 days, making it Netflix’s most watched limited series. Google search queries for “how to play chess” hit a nine-year all-time high. Inquiries for “chess set” increased 250% on eBay. US sales of chess sets increased 125%. New players on Chess.com increased five-fold.[3]  Unsurprisingly, Mr. Tevis’ novel is now a New York Times bestseller…37 years after its initial publication!

Certainly, The Queen’s Gambit is not the first film about chess. As my brother, David Moss, has well documented on his website devoted to chess movies, the game has attracted moviegoers since Robert Paul created A Chess Dispute in 1903. Over the past century, prominent directors and actors have attached their names to chess films, from Ingmar Bergman (The Seventh Seal) and Catherine Deneuve (The Chess Game) to Samuel L. Jackson (Fresh) and Ben Kingsley (Searching for Bobby Fischer).

Yet, none of those movies remotely had an impact on the industry as comparable to The Queen’s Gambit. Why did this show about an orphaned girl who becomes one of the top chess players in the world, despite her addiction to pills and alcohol, reach number one on Netflix in 63 countries?[4]

One reason is the series respect for the sport of chess. Former world champion Garry Kasparov, a consultant to The Queen’s Gambit, ensured the creators avoided pitfalls of past films, including unrealistic movements and blatant transgressions, such as boards oriented incorrectly. Real matches were often the basis for those in the series. Tension was created, precisely by investing in the nuances of the game, rather than skipping to the flash (the equivalent of the deplorable overreliance on trick shots in billiard films). And, the characters, from the protagonist Beth Harmon to the supporting cast to the Russian nemeses, were complex, not two-dimensional cut-outs.  Of course, it also helped that The Queen’s Gambit was about seven hours in length and released during a pandemic.

I’m thrilled by the success of The Queen’s Gambit, but I can’t help wishing Mr. Tevis’ hat trick had culminated with one more adrenaline shot to the billiards industry. Since The Color of Money, billiards has not fared well on the silver screen, and its popularity among younger players is waning.

The Queen’s Gambit proves you don’t need an A-list actor, an exorbitant budget, a screenplay based on a best seller, or a prolonged marketing campaign to create high-quality viewing. Most important, you don’t need to dumb down the sport or reduce it to stereotypes and caricatures.  If we can avoid these lazy cinematic tropes in future billiards films, that’s a gambit worth taking.

This article was originally written for and printed in BCA Insider (February 1, 2021).

[1]      “Movie is Chalking Up Renewed Interest in Pool,” Los Angeles Times, November 23, 1986.

[2]      “Upscale? Maybe, But Pool’s Pool,” Chicago Tribune, December 1, 1989.

[3]      “From the Queen’s Gambit to a Record-Setting Checkmate,” Netflix, November 23, 2020.

[4]      Ibid.

Sixball

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If you’re not familiar with the rules of the Korean billiards game sixball, you’re not alone. It’s rarely mentioned as one of the standard variants of carom billiards, and even among Koreans, it takes a backseat to its far more popular cousin fourball.  In fact, until I stumbled across a decade-old post on AZ Billiards Forum about the game, I wasn’t sure it was real. But, while the rules may still be opaque to me, the game clearly exists, which makes Sixball, the latest entry into the billiards movie canon, all the more interesting and enjoyable.

Perhaps anticipating that movie viewers would be unfamiliar with the sport, the film opens with a voice-over overview of the rules (and what I can only imagine is a tip of the hat to Martin Scorsese, who used the same technique 36 years ago to describe nineball in the opening scene of The Color of Money.)

    1. First, memorize the point value of your card.
    2. Once each player’s card is set, the game begins. The goal is to use the six balls to make shots that continually lower your total points until you perfectly land on the point value of your card.
    3. When the first shot hits the black ball, and then collides with the other colored balls, each worth different points, points for the ball hit will be dropped.
    4. But, if you miss the black ball, of if you hit multiple colors in the same turn, then you lose your turn. Avoid these mistakes to keep dropping points.
    5. Your final point total has to match the points on your card. That’s the only way to win.

Released in May 2020, this South Korean feature-length film from director Chae Ki-jun focuses on Sung-hoon (Lee Dae-han), a one-time aspiring professional billiards player whose dreams were shattered (and hand was broken) after getting cheated in a game of sixball by the gangster Mr. Yong (Hong Dal-pyo).

Retired from the sport, Sung-hoon is eventually lured back to billiards by his friend, who promises him the opportunity to make easy money betting in doubles billiards. As the winnings come in, Sung-hoon attracts the attention of a local pool hall house manager, Ms. Kim (Kang Ye-bin), who recruits him to be part of her stable of players. Unbeknownst to Sung-hoon, Ms. Kim works for Mr. Yong. So, when Sung-hoon prioritizes a former love interest over an easy billiards mark, leaving Ms. Kim holding the debt, it is Mr. Yong who steps in seeking reparations. And it is Sung-yoon who finds himself with the perfect revenge opportunity, if he can survive his billiards match. The Korean trailer is available to watch here.

The plot is so formulaic it’s almost risible, but as someone who’s watched my share of straight-to-TV, 2AM, gangster revenge films, I’m not complaining. And Sixball makes a few bets that pay off.

First, Sixball is all about billiards. Sure, there’s a budding, uninteresting love story happening in the shadows, but the billiards is front and center.  The game of sixball bookends the film, while the middle is packed with straight rail carom billiards matches.  Since the sport is played on a pocketless table, the movie cannot rely on the standard flash of balls getting pocketed in rapid succession or multi-ball trick shots; instead, attention is paid to nuanced single shots in which the cue ball adroitly makes contact with the two object balls.

Sixball also succeeds in making the gangster Mr. Yong a truly memorable and brutal on-screen villain. If you still get shivers thinking about Le Chiffre punishing the testicles of James Bond in Casino Royale; if you shudder picturing Dr. Szell perform dental torture on Dustin Hoffman in Marathon Man; if you get disturbing flashbacks of Derek Vinyard stomping an unsuspecting black man’s teeth into the pavement in American History X; then prepare to turn away as Mr. Yong performs a horrifying form of billiards torment on another sixball loser.  I’m still hearing the sound of teeth breaking.

The movie also layers on the voyeurism and fetishism of women, whose décolletage and skintight micro-skirts feature almost prominently as the billiards.  Most of this is for show, especially if it means our hormonal billiards studs may occasionally miss a shot as they are distracted by these pneumatic women. But, they are also portrayed as very capable billiards players; in fact, Sung-hoon’s final revenge requires convincing his love interest to pick up a cue stick once more.

Speaking of the climax, while there is never any doubt about the outcome of the final match, it is well-executed, including one jaw-dropper of a shot, and brings a satisfying conclusion both to Mr. Yong’s reign and to the film.

Sixball is available to stream for on AmazonPrime.

Petrichor

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Franz Schubert’s Winterreise, completed in 1827, consists of 24 “truly terrible songs, which affected [him] more than any others.” Composed almost entirely in minor keys, the songs and lyrics sound sad, detailing not only the fateful journey of a nameless narrator, but also evoking Schubert’s own personal condition, having recently contracted syphilis. He died just one year later.[1]

The coda to Winterreise is “Der Leiermann” (The Hurdy Gurdy Man). It is about the narrator’s despair and the complete deterioration of his mental state. The lyrics, written by Wilhelm Müller, mention a man who “with numb fingers, plays the best he can…no one wants to listen, no one looks at him.”

It is in words, sound, and spirit, the perfect song to ominously flow through director Louis-Jack’s 16-minute film, Petrichor, completed in mid-2020 and currently on the festival circuit.  The movie is a haunting snapshot of a washed-up, former snooker wunderkind preparing for his final match and unable to accept his career ended some time ago.

From the opening piano chords of “Der Leiermann,” Petrichor evokes a disturbing, spectral sensation. The viewer is intently and intimately focused on a snooker table, but the experience is slightly unnatural. The camera pans right to left and a bodiless, white-gloved referee completes the rack, even as a light dust falls over the baize.

After the film’s title is revealed, the movie abruptly cuts to the backside of a balding man, probably in his 50s, with greasy hair, an unshaven face, and a disturbing paunch drooping over his mustard-colored underwear, the only clothing the man has on. He looks jaundiced, smoking a cigarette, and splashing vodka into a used plastic water bottle that he uncaps with his teeth. He’s in some sort of industrial bathroom, talking to a man in the mirror. The viewer does not want to be in the room, and neither does he.

The viewer soon learns this man is Liam “Lightning” Daniels (played by Paul Kaye, who Game of Thrones fans will recognize as Thoros of Myr), a three-time world snooker championship finalist, the People’s Champion, the Force of Nature.  Daniels enters the snooker hall to the sound of a roaring crowd, but like the man in the mirror, it’s all in his head, as the dreary room houses maybe 10 people, including his opponent.

I won’t share more about what happens, but the ending is shot as beautifully as the opening. The viewer hovers above Daniels, watching him play, but also watching him fade ever farther into the distance. (A special shout-out to “The Cream of Devon” Andy Hicks, who is credited as both a snooker consultant on the film and the stunt double for Mr. Kaye.)

Petrichor is intentionally unsettling and spookish. This is not a love letter to snooker, though the director has shared that “before he even knew the rules, he was utterly mesmerized by [snooker] on TV.” Rather, this is a film about the “psychological warfare on the table, a life lived from a suitcase and relentless losses that have left [Daniels] a shell of a man.” Louis-Jack continues:

“Snooker has an incredible history of amazing characters. Many of the most compelling players to watch – the mercurial geniuses of the green baize – have experienced severe mental illness and volatile personal lives…I thought that a portrait of a snooker player would not only make for thrilling drama but could, in turn, be a powerful vehicle for exploring mental illness.”[2]

It doesn’t take much Googling to confirm Louis-Jack’s assessment of the damaging effect snooker can have on individuals’ mental health. The five-time world champion Ronnie O’Sullivan is probably the sport’s most vocal critic. During various parts of his magnificent career, Mr. O’Sullivan has been heavily involved in alcohol and drugs as a way to combat his self-coined “snooker depression.” Speaking to BBC’s Don’t Tell Me the Score podcast last year, Mr. O’Sullivan said: “Snooker is a really hard sport, and if I had my time over again, I definitely wouldn’t choose snooker as a sport to pursue.”[3]

Mark Allen, who won the Triple Crown title at the 2018 Masters tournament, has been similarly outspoken, directly linking his depression to his life as a long-distance snooker player.  So too have snooker professionals Martin Gould and Michael White shared their struggles with the illness. In fact, the issue became so prominent that in 2017 the World Professional Billiards and Snooker Association (WPBSA) announced partnerships with both Talking Solutions Ltd and with the SOS Silence of Suicide group to support snooker players struggling with mental health issues.

Research has shown that social isolation and depression are closely linked. Therefore, is it really a surprise that snooker players, who are constantly traveling and practicing alone, are at greater risk of suffering from depression than other athletes, especially those who play on teams or who are supported by coaches and trainers?

While Petrichor is not yet publicly available to watch, you can see the trailer here. I hope that the film’s release and reception not only accelerate Louis-Jack and writer Kenneth Emson’s plans to develop a feature-length version, but also continue to amplify the discussion around depression in professional sports.  No one may want to listen to or look at the Hurdy Gurdy Man, but his story needs to be told.

[1]      “Decoding the Music Masterpieces: Schubert’s Winterreise,” The Conversation, August 28, 2017.

[2]      Louis-Jack is quoted in a pre-release article published in It’s Nice That, July 17, 2018.

[3]      “Ronnie O’Sullivan health: Snooker champ discusses how the sport caused his depression,” Express, December 15, 2020

Table Plays – “The Waiting Game”

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In the arts, billiards and death are often interlocked.

“A Game of Pool,” the 1961 episode of The Twilight Zone, pits the best living pool player against the best dead pool player in a contest where the winner earns the title of greatest pool player ever, and the loser forfeits his life.

Two years later, in the poem “We Real Cool,” Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Gwendolyn Brooks tells the story of seven pool players at the Golden Shovel: “We Real cool. | We Left school. | We Lurk late. | We Strike straight. | We Sing sin. | We Thin gin. | We Jazz June. | We Die soon.”

The aptly-titled anime short film Death Billiards, created in 2013, focuses on two men who must compete for their lives in a game of pool. The gotcha is they’re both already dead and the match is to determine who is headed for heaven or hell.

Into this global smorgasbord of billiards macabre we should add “The Waiting Game,” a 30-minute television drama that aired in November 2008 on Maori Television in New Zealand. “The Waiting Game” was one-sixth of Table Plays, a grassroots series of low-budget dramas, funded by NZ On Air, that paired emerging writers with established directors, and relied on local crews, actors, and settings.

Written by Rebecca Tansley and directed by Anna Marbrook, “The Waiting Game” envisions purgatory as a one-table snooker room where two players compete.  The winner gets to live, the loser moves on. The episode focuses on a match between a distraught single mother (Eilish Moran), who has just arrived and refuses to believe her fate will be resolved by a snooker game, and a celebrated TV actor (Ben Farry), who is impatient to get back to his life.  But, a lot of conversation and soul-searching can occur over a game of snooker, and while the winner of the match may be obvious, the outcome is less so.

Due to the cramped locale and the tight ping-pong of dialogue among the two players, and the third character, a Purgatory rule enforcer-cum-maître d’ (Rima Te Wiata), “The Waiting Game” feels more like a one-act theater production than a television episode. And, while I wish the snooker-playing had been far more convincing, I appreciated the original storyline and its ability to create tension independent of the match.

But, I have to admit to a strong degree of bias, for a good degree of my viewing joy was attributable to the circuitous journey I had locating the episode and the most amiable and facilitative cast of individuals who contributed to my quest.

That search first began in early 2019 when I reached out the writer Ms. Tansley. Replying immediately, she shared that she did not have a copy of “The Waiting Game” but encouraged me to connect with Richard Thomas, the executive producer of Table Plays and a 30-year veteran of New Zealand television production.

Unable to reach Mr. Thomas, I put the search on the backburner for about a year until last April, when I attempted to find a different inroad, this time by contacting the New Zealand Film Commission. The people at NZFC could not have been friendlier, and while they too couldn’t connect me to Mr. Thomas, they did put me in touch with the director, Ms. Marbrook.

Ms. Marbrook graciously shared with me more history about “The Waiting Game” and then added that the master file had been sent to the local television station in Dunedin, New Zealand, as they did a subsequent airing of the full Table Plays series.

After some further on-the-ground sleuthing by Ms. Marbrook and Ms. Tansley, they encouraged me to reach out to 39 Southern Television, the local station formerly known as Dunedin Television and Channel 9. That prompt led me to connect with Luke Chapman, the Production Manager, who warmly recalled working on the show and the “clever script from Rebecca.” Mr. Chapman indicated he only had “The Waiting Game” on DVD. After ascertaining my intentions were good, Mr. Chapman agreed to convert the DVD into a format I could watch. Two months later, he published in the July 26 Otago Daily Times (which, in addition to 39 Southern Television, is owned by Allied Press) a link to the episode. You can now watch it here.

Thank you to everyone who helped me locate “The Waiting Game.” As was often written to me during the numerous email exchanges, kia ora tatou.