In the moving industry, a swamper is slang for an unskilled laborer who assists in the loading and unloading of packed furniture, boxes, and other objects. Jay Thurlow, the protagonist of Philip Neumann’s 2021 Canadian movie Swamper, is a swamper, and it’s not pretty. 

For every occasional generous gratuity he receives, he must also clean out the fecal matter left in the truck by homeless people; double-check his employer which tries to short-change him on his hourly pay; haul sofas up treacherous cliffs; accept verbal abuse from clients; and turn a blind eye to a murderous, ill-tempered partner.

And that’s just the tip of the cue stick when it comes to Jay’s bad luck and difficult life.

He must also deal with a dying mother, an unemployed alcoholic father, a violent landlord, and a demanding girlfriend. He gets fired, dumped, conned, beaten, and repeatedly threatened. On the positive, someone offers to purchase his eyeball for $20,000.

On top of, or perhaps as a result of, these woes and vices, Jay also has a billiards gambling problem. He’s a pool shark, who easily rattles; a hustler who can’t finish the hustle; a talent who can’t get out of his own way. He’s metaphorically running the table and still scratching on the 8-ball.

Apparently, being an indigenous teen from a broken family is hard, which seems to be core to the movie’s muddled message. But, within this miasma, there is optimism. Brandon Moon, who plays Jay, injects his character with an innocent and heartfelt pertinacity. He is repeatedly knocked down, but never knocked out.

This persistence is central to Jay’s pool game. Whether it’s 8-ball or 9-ball, one pocket against Manitoba Fats or straight pool (“Who the fuck plays straight pool anymore?”) against Ronnie the Rooster, billiards is Jay’s lifeline to a possibly better world.

We root for Jay, even if it’s just to get a momentary respite from his hapless existence. But, oddly, Swamper does not reward the audience, which is one of the film’s fundamental problems. The character arcs are horizontal lines with narratives that fade, rather than conclude. Enjoyable scenes are intermittently scattered throughout an otherwise unsatisfying and exhausting viewing experience.

As for the pool, there are some clear nods to The Hustler and The Color of Money, from the black-and-white filming to the fanboy obsession with specific cue sticks, such as a Kevin DeRoo versus a vintage Meucci, to the aforementioned fat man opponent. The pool-playing is authentic, but it lacks dramatic tension, especially during the culminating $10,000 8-Ball Tournament, which unfortunately makes Swamper a far cry from the genre’s giants it so obviously idolizes. 

Sadly, Swamper does have one thing in common with its billiard film predecessors. Just as The Hustler filmed at Ames Pool Hall (which closed five years after the film in 1966), and The Color of Money filmed at St. Paul’s Billiards (now closed), Swamper filmed at Guys & Dolls Billiards in Vancouver…and which is also now closed.

Swamper is not currently available to watch online. A huge thank you to Alex Quinn, actor and producer of Swamper, for sharing a private copy of the film with me to watch.