Tag Archives: snooker movies

White Goods

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Many years before portraying iconic characters, such as New York Continental owner Winston Scott (John Wick), saloon owner and pimp Al Swearengen (Deadwood), and crafty conman Mr. Wednesday (American Gods), Ian MacShane played Ian Deegan, a Nottingham demolitions expert with a penchant for snooker, in the 1994 UK TV movie White Goods.

Ian McShaneFew people have heard of the movie. Among those that have, it’s seemingly because Mr. MacShane has sex on a snooker table with a 24-year-old Rachel Weisz, still 12 years before her Supporting Actress Oscar. (No nudity, but lots of balls are unintentionally pocketed.)

But, don’t let the lack of familiarity with the film intimidate you. If you can find it – which is a big “if,” as I had to source White Goods on a rare film site that sent me an unmarked, burned DVD – then it’s well worth the watch.

Ian Deegan is rough, gruff, loud, and proud. He’s a boozer, a flirt, and a relatively decent snooker player. The yin to his yang is Charlie Collins (Lenny Henry), a soft-spoken teacher, who paints, excels at trivia, sips his drinks, and steers clear of the baize. They’re black and white neighbors in a blue-collar neighborhood, where surface differences don’t interfere with solid friendships.

Opportunity comes knocking in their working class hamlet when the producers of the game show Snooker Challenge have a last-minute cancellation and need to find a pair of new contestants. Thrust into the hurly-burly of the Lenton Lane Social and Snooker Club, the show’s producers settle on Deegan and Collins. It’s a quotidian decision for the producers, but it’s potentially game-changing for Deegan and Collins’ families, who imagine their lives transformed as a result of winning all those ‘white goods’ (i.e., historically white appliances such as washing machines, fridge-freezers, tumble dryers and dishwashers.)

White Goods 09And, boy, do they win! After a well-played first round when “points are prizes,” the blokes earn quite the booty, such as a month’s supply of white rum and white wine, plus a year’s supply of white cleaning powder. In round two, Deegan defeats the show’s snooker champ and former Crucible winner Paul Ryan. Finally, in the ultimate Pot of Gold round, Collins seemingly defies the odds by correctly answering why Van Gogh painted old boots during his Paris period.

Snooker Challenge is entertaining cinema, but it’s a brilliant lampoon of the British trivia-and-sports game shows that premiered in the ‘80s and ‘90s.  Its most obvious target is Big Break, in which teams competed in a series of rounds in which one contestant’s success answering questions translated into advantages for that contestant’s teammate on the snooker table. Similar real shows included Full Swing (golf), and the genre’s progenitor Bullseye (darts). 

The parodizing digs deep with its mockery of the game show’s (white good) prizes, imbecilic contestants, a toffee-nosed producer (who refers to the Lenton Lane Snooker Club as a scene out of Jurassic Park 2), a solipsistic snooker champ, and a dim-witted production assistant. But, it really sharpens its fangs with the portrayal of Mickey Short (Chris Barrie), the foul-mouthed Snooker Challenge host, who has a rat-a-tat stream of one-liners disparaging the game show’s prize girl, Lucy Diamond, a former Page 3 glamor model. “Juicy Lucy,” “Lucy with long legs, watch them go,” and “Oh, bounciest one,” are just some of the misogynistic monikers he snipes at her with glee.

White Goods isn’t content to limit its satire to game shows. Though not as sharp-toothed as some better known late-80s/early-90s send-ups of consumerism (e.g., They Live; Falling Down), the film’s final third pivots from game show to neighbor wars, as the outcome of Snooker Challenge is questioned and suggested to be rigged. Deegan and Collins, and even more so, their wives, become locked in a bitter rivalry over who deserves all the show’s spoils. 

The formerly friendly families trade barbs as they try to outmaneuver one another for the prizes, once they are delivered. Selfish comments, such as, “Where is my microwave?,” escalate into hurtful insults that sting of classism and prejudice. The tension overflows as Deegan resorts to storing the white goods in his shed and wiring them with a detonative device, lest the Collins family try to steal them back. 

It is only once the families children start mimicking their parents and trading blows over the mounds of merchandise do the mothers realize their avarice has gone too far. I won’t give away the ending, but let’s just say it’s pretty explosive.

Perfect Break

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Back in 2016, I spoke to producer Len Evans about his forthcoming snooker movie Perfect Break, which was wrapping up post-production. (The movie was released in 2020.) Mr. Evans had promised a “low-budget, family film” that would generate a lot of laughs, showcase great snooker playing, and feature world snooker champion Jimmy White and famed snooker commentator John Virgo in key roles.

Perfect BreakThat promise proved paper-thin. Perfect Break is a perfect bust.

The setup had potential. Bobby Stevens (Joe Rainbow), an unknown snooker player, makes it to the finals at the Crucible. Performing a whitewash, Bobby is one point away from defeating his number one ranked opponent, Ray “Cannon” Carter, when he suddenly falls apart and ultimately suffers a humiliating loss. His girlfriend leaves him, the media suspects foul play, and Bobby disappears behind a luchador mask, relegated to performing trick shots at local clubs and community centers. 

But, after that five-minute opener, the movie quickly spirals into looniness. Bobby takes a job as a resident masked snooker player at the Marine Cliffs Entertainment Center. This nondescript venue seems to be a holiday park for mobile homes. It features an offensively stereotyped homosexual security guard, who inquires about Bobby’s “pole” and whistles “toodle-oo” to unlucky patrons. The snooker table is in a room that can barely squeeze ten people. Running around Marine Cliffs is the proprietor Kate (Tia Demir) and her daughter, Sophie (Ella Tweed) a budding matchmaker who is determined to pair Bobby and her mom.

Meanwhile, in the snookerverse, Ray is determined to track down Bobby for a rematch, as he still suspects the original match may have been thrown. He hatches a cockamamie plan to get Bobby invited to the exclusive Jimmy White Invitational Snooker Tournament. This event features eight of the world’s top-ranked players, with unoriginal names like Mark “Magician” Ward (sorry, Efren Reyes) and Joe “Hitman” Waye (sorry, Michael Holt). Inexplicably, the Tournament occurs in some beat-up club room, where the players use cheap wooden cues, and which houses an audience of maybe 20 bored onlookers, including children.

Perfect Break.v2 1[SPOILER ALERT] Bobby accepts the invite, especially after he learns that he was hypnotized by his ex-girlfriend to throw his infamous match. A little whisper-magic later and the spell is broken. Bring on the nine-frame rematch and a chance for another 147 perfect break.

Perfect Break suffers from a perfect mix of wooden dialogue, an idiotic plot, unconvincing settings, an over-reliance on random music, and terrible production. The snooker graphics look like they were done in PowerPoint.  Mr. White and Mr. Virgo, who supposedly were on set, seem like they got Photoshopped into the movie. There is a black-and-white snooker training montage for no reason. There are random color filters applied to scenes and amateur special effects to simulate something as mundane as waking up. Sound issues and muffled voices plague every outdoor scene.

The snooker-playing was equally disappointing, most obviously because there’s surprisingly little snooker on screen. I’m not counting the unimaginative trick shots. Nor am I counting some of the background potting done by Phil Burness, who is the film’s “snooker consultant.” 

I’m talking about actual snooker. Unfortunately, the Crucible match occurs off-screen. The Jimmy White Invitational matches are edited such that most of the time the viewer is looking directly at the player lining up a shot, rather than watching the player make the shot. Pots are disconnected from strokes. The few shots we see wide-screen are super basic, making me wonder what kind of bargain the producers got on Mr. Burness’ fees. As for Mr. White and Mr. Virgo, they’re ballyhooed involvement amounts to less than three minutes of stilted dialogue, literally done as talking heads. 

If you’re looking for the perfect break to your day, you’re not going to find it with Perfect Break.

Toolsidas Junior

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Netflix Founder and Co-CEO Reed Hastings is bullish on the Indian market. At the end of 2019, he shared the company’s intent to invest $400 million in Indian content. Whether Netflix’s current financial setbacks will slow that investment is uncertain, but already the company has launched more than 90 original Indian titles. 

One of those titles, released this past May, is Toolsidas Junior, a snooker movie written and directed by Mridul Mahendra, and arguably the first full-length billiards movie to come out of Bollywood. It’s a feel-good, feels-long film about 13-year-old Midi (Varun Buddhadev), who seeks to avenge his father’s sixth and most recent loss at the 1994 Calcutta Sports Club Snooker Championship. 

Watching his father Toolsidas (Rajeev Kapoor) get humiliated by the “unbeatable” Jimmy Tandon (Dalip Tahil) stings all the more when Midi realizes that Jimmy intentionally preyed on his father’s dipsomania by plying him with liquor during a break in the match.

Unfortunately, it takes more than half the movie for that early epiphany to translate into action. After his initial attempts to learn snooker at an exclusive club hit a wall because his “feet don’t reach the floor” and he’ll “tear the (baize/felt) table,” Midi finds an available table at the Wellington YMC in the seedy, impoverished other side of town. 

There, he befriends Mohammad Salaam Bhia (Sanjay Dutt), the laconic ex-national snooker champion, whose daily snooker routine consists of alternating between hour-long naps and practices, while intimidated onlookers marvel in the background. 

Salaam Bhia finds Midi’s determination endearing, triggering an 11-month training routine, which consists of offering Midi cryptic aphorisms (e.g., “to see clearly, must befriend the darkness”) and juvenile appellations (e.g., the six colored balls are named Jaundice, Pinky, Blackie, Chocolate, Parrot, and Billoo) and admonitions (e.g., “the left hand is not used just to clean your butt”). Pop cultural references also play a role in Salaam Bhia’s regimen. Various forms of cue ball spin are analogized to the fighting styles of famous Indian action stars. For example, to hit topspin, think of Amitabh Bachchan, who always follows through on his punch.

For viewers who lament the paucity of snooker films over the past twenty years (Perfect Break, The Rack Pack, and Break notwithstanding), Toolsidas Junior will likely offer little consolation. The opening scene, with its meticulous attention to brushing, chalking, and ironing the baize before the match begins, suggests the film will devote lavish attention to billiards. But, while snooker is essential to the plot, the sport itself gets proportionally less on-camera time than one would expect. 

This is true even for the predictable ending at the 1995 championship, when Midi plays under the moniker Toolsidas Junior. The snooker sequences just don’t dazzle, though it’s difficult to begrudge the film, given it’s impossible not to root for the young cherubic underdog. 

Interestingly, Toolsidas Junior opens by saying the film is “inspired by true events,” though the closing credits clarify the film is at least semi-autobiographical for the director.  In an interview, Mr. Mahendra shared, “Snooker has been a very pivotal part of my life, especially because of the memories it beholds with my father. Toolsidas Junior depicts one of the most cherished parts of my life. I fought hard to bring my father glory back then and I wanted to do the same by making Toolsidas Junior.”

Alas, this odic film carries with it a sad epilogue. Mr. Mahendra had arranged a special screening of Toolsidas Junior for his real father and Rajiv Kapoor, who returned to acting after three decades to play Toolsidas. However, both men – the real father and the on-screen one – passed away in the same year before the film’s release.

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

Break

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For more than two years leading up to its release, Break, the directorial debut from British actor Michael Elkin, has been summarily described as “Rocky with a snooker cue.”

Break promotional poster for movieThat’s a bold pronouncement. The original Rocky, filmed in 1976, won Best Picture and Best Director, and earned its lead, Sylvester Stallone, a Best Actor nomination. The movie spawned five sequels, plus two spin-off Creed sequels. In total, the film series has grossed more than $1.7 billion dollars worldwide, an amount that will only grow if the anticipated Creed III and untitled Rocky ‘epilogue film’ become realities.

While the success and achievements of Rocky may be a tad out of reach for Break, the comparison does serve some purpose. Rocky captivated audiences by telling the story of Rocky Balboa, a small-time, washed out, boxer who is given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to prove his worth, aided by the romantic love of a woman and the hard-knocks love of a gym trainer.

Similarly, in Break, Spencer Pryde (Sam Gittins), is an inner city London delinquent who wastes his life drug-dealing and committing petty crimes. He also happens to be a snooker prodigy, who could hit centuries by the age of thirteen. But, those skills, which might offer him a path out of his bleak existence, are squandered until the intervention of an absentee father (Luke Mably), a former professional snooker player (David Yip), and a budding romantic interest (Sophie Stevens). Collectively, they provide him with the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to make a clean “break.”

Break promotional poster for movieAs other reviewers have noted, this “tale of the underdog defying the odds” is well-worn on the silver screen – and not just in Rocky.[1] This Sporting Life and When Saturday Comes are better-known films that trace the evolution of a hot-tempered yobbo whose athletic prowess ultimately allows him to overcome social obstacles and inner demons.

In other words, Break is pretty clichéd, though that doesn’t mean it’s not an entertaining 107 minutes. The acting is solid and earnest; the script maintains its momentum to its formulaic culmination at the Beijing snooker championship; and it’s impossible not to enjoy Rutger Hauer, in his final role, owning his small amount of screen time as the local crime overlord.

It’s also hard not to appreciate the decade-long trek it took to bring Break to the silver screen or the gritty, entrepreneurial efforts to release the film in the middle of a pandemic. The filmmakers ultimately opted to showcase the movie this past July at the Brent Cross Drive-In Club in northwest London, breaking ground as the first film to premiere during the UK’s lockdown.

Break promotional poster for movieHowever, back to that troubling tagline…

Rocky is an incredible story, a heartfelt drama, a pugilist fable, a contrast in characters. And, it is also an exhilarating, emotionally wrenching boxing film. The movie loves boxing, and audiences, in turn, fell in love with boxing, from the famous training sequences to the knock-‘em-sock-‘em finale.

Even professional boxers love Rocky. Watching Rocky II with film critic Roger Ebert, Muhammad Ali declared, “A great movie…a big hit. It has all the ingredients. Love, violence, emotion. The excitement never dulled.”  Commenting further on Rocky’s nemesis, Ali said, “Apollo Creed, the way he dances, the way he jabs, the way he talks…That’s me.”[2]

In comparison, Break never really shows any connection to snooker. The audience is asked to trust that Spencer is a snooker wunderkind, but we never see or feel this innate ability that resides under his anger. Qiang is his assigned trainer, but the relationship feels forced. It has none of the genuine emotion that made Burgess Meredith’s performance as Mickey so heartfelt in Rocky.  Snooker really only becomes central to the movie in the final championship, and by then it’s too late.

Break promotional poster for movieIn a 2018 interview with me, Elkin shared that he was aware that too little snooker and the film loses its authenticity and narrative thread; too much snooker and moviegoers will grow restless with the slow pace.

In an attempt to straddle that line, Elkin injects a number of authentic elements into Break, such as filming at the Crucible in Sheffield, home to the World Snooker Championship since 1977, and enabling cameos by some famous snooker players, including Liang Wenbo, Jack Lisowski, and Ken Doherty.

But, a famous venue and a couple blink-or-you’ll-miss-them cameos, does not make for a compelling snooker film. Break may be about Spencer with snooker cue, but for snooker fans, the wait continues until we get our Rocky.

Break is available to watch on Amazon. You can watch the trailer here.

[1]      http://echochamber.online/2020/08/06/breaking-good-underdog-story-forms-a-disorderly-cue/

[2]      https://www.rogerebert.com/interviews/watching-rocky-ii-with-muhammad-ali

Snookered

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SnookeredIn the sport of snooker, getting “snookered” means that one has been put in a position where s/he does not have the ability to use the cue ball to make a direct, linear shot on the object ball.  It is a perfectly valid and highly technical form of defense.

In modern parlance and away from the table, “snookered” is a slang verb that means to “deceive, cheat, or dupe,” according to Dictionary.com.  That definition has provoked considerable criticism across the Ocean from linguists who counter by referencing the Oxford English Dictionary: to snooker is to place in an impossible position; to balk, stymie. Ergo, to be snookered would imply that one is in a difficult situation, but nothing duplicitous has occurred.

Now, all of this lexical debate could be routinely dismissed and relegated to the online nattering of etymologists on the English Language & Usage Stack Exchange, except “snookered” improbably shows up as the single most common title of billiards movies and television episodes. By my count, “Snookered” is the title of four billiards televisions episodes and three billiards short films, not to mention a billiards-themed play, two billiards-themed books, and the b-side of Chas & Dave’s famous anthem, “Snooker Loopy.”  So, without further delay, let’s get “Snookered.” 

Terry and June – “Snookered”

From 1979 to 1987, the BBC ran the sitcom Terry and June, which starred Terry Scott and June Whitfield as a middle-aged, middle-class suburban couple. In the January 1982 “Snookered” episode, Terry has purchased a six-foot snooker table, with grand fantasies of becoming a champion. But, the acid-tongued June is less certain, telling Terry, “You’re about as good at snooker as the captain of the Titanic was at spotting icebergs.” 

Admitting to his shortcomings, Terry begrudgingly sells his table for 30 pounds by advertising it in the newspaper. However, immediately after selling the table, he starts getting inundated with inquiries from prospective buyers, who are willing to pay more than 100 pounds.  Realizing the table is worth far more than he thought, he buys it back for 70 pounds. Then, he begins a rather comical – and ultimately expensive — journey to determine why there is such demand for the table, even when antique dealers tell him it is “rubbish.” I won’t spoil the ending but don’t get your hopes up that Joe Davis has any relation to the legendary Steve of the same surname. The full episode is available to watch here.

https://youtu.be/FiYLo8qh8Nw

Mortimer’s Patch – “Snookered” [WANTED!]

Unfortunately, most of the other “Snookered” television episodes I was not able to find online, including the June 1984 episode from the New Zealand police drama Mortimer’s Patch.  If you can help me locate any of these episodes, please contact me directly.  All I could learn was that the series, which lasted only three seasons, featured detective and police work in the fictional town of Cobham. In the “Snookered” episode, a pool hustler comes to town in order to blackmail.

Roy – “Snookered” [WANTED!]

Roy O’Brien, the 11-year old cartoon-animated son of a live-action family in Dublin, is at the center of this eponymous Irish children’s television series. In the February 2014 “Snookered” episode, Roy’s dad, Bill, discovers that his son is a snooker prodigy.  When his dad bumps into his old snooker-playing rival, Clive “The Tornado” Butler, Bill forces Roy to compete in a grudge match.  For Roy, it’s a big fuss about “a silly game of snooker,” but for Bill, it’s an opportunity for “claiming glory on the field of battle” and for his son to “be a world champion by the time he’s 16…have [his] own line of merchandising, maybe a video…and then in 25 or 30 years, retire as the greatest player to ever pick up a snooker cue.”

Though I could not watch the “Snookered” episode online, I got some mild enjoyment from this transcript of the episode.

Harry’s Mad – “Snookered” [WANTED!]

Still another children’s television series that seized on the name “Snookered” is Harry’s Mad, a British show that ran from 1993 to 1996.  Based on the book by Dick King-Smith, the series focused on 10-year-old Harry Holdsworth, who inherits a super intelligent talking macaw named Madison (aka Mad).  Harry and his family have lots of adventures, but the bird also attracts the attention of the villainous Terry Crumm.  There’s a dearth of information about the “Snookered” episode, except that it featured snooker world champion Steve Davis.

Snookered (short film, 2005)

This nine-minute film written and directed by Hammish Scadding saw a larger audience than it deserved because it was a part of Virgin Media Shorts, the UK’s biggest short film competition at that time. (The competition ended in 2014.)

The movie focuses on two ‘friends,’ one of whom has always been more popular and successful than the other. The narrator, always undermined by his friend, views the pool table as “the most important place. Two sides fighting for supremacy on that bright green battlefield.” Presumably, he’s never won a game against the friend until – spoiler alert – tonight. And, with that victory, “every winner loses, while every loser joins a winner’s table.” Really? Someone actually wrote that?  The film is available to watch here.

Snookered (short film, 2014)

Almost three years ago, I wrote a blog post about Azeem Mustafa’s 2015 billiards-martial arts short film The Break. At the time, I was unaware of that film’s predecessor, the five-minute film Snookered, which, naturally, also mixes billiards and martial arts over a funky soundtrack.

The ‘martial arts criminal comedy’ focuses on two gangsters who opt to play a game of snooker to determine who shall walk away with a valuable briefcase. The five-hour game fails to determine a winner, so the two men follow up with a one-hour martial arts battle (that has some pretty decent fight sequences for a self-made short film). The film is available to watch here.

Snookered (short film, 2018)

Rounding out the septet of Snookered-named films is this seven-minute film from Scotland that won the 48 Hour Film Project.  Like the name suggests, the movie was written, shot, and edited in just 48 hours for entry into this cinematic competition. The plot centers on a mysterious, dangerous box that must be couriered to a local snooker hall.  When it is delivered to and opened by the recipient, we learn it contains toxic cue chalk that kills the user when he blows on the cue. Created by Team Dropshack, Snookered won Best Film, Best Cinematography and Best Editing.  

So, to all the film auteurs still contemplating the name of their next billiard masterpiece, please heed my advice and leave alone the title “Snookered.” I promise I’m not trying to deceive or cheat you, or put you in a difficult situation.  I just don’t want anyone to be snookered again.

Break (in production)

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Michael Elkin BreakLess than two weeks ago, billiards movie enthusiasts, such as myself, started geeking out, agog over the announcement that Rutger Hauer was going to star in the upcoming snooker film Break. Mr. Hauer had been cast to play an old-time gangster, but for fans of his oeuvre, and especially those who still memorialize him as Roy Batty from Blade Runner, the specifics of the role in Break were irrelevant. It was simply the fact that he would be returning to the silver screen – and in a billiards movie, no less.  Because let’s face it, the recent entrants into the billiards movie genre (e.g., 9-Ball, Massé, HeartBreak) have not exactly been overflowing with megawatt stars.

According to a recent article in Variety, Break is about Spencer Pryde (played by Sam Gittins), a talented kid snooker player from a rough neighborhood who is dragged into crime. A chance encounter with a Chinese billiards champion (presumably played by China’s currently number two ranked snooker player Liang Wenbo) gives Spencer a chance to turn his life around and escape his tough surroundings. Like many other billiards films (e.g., The Color of Money, Kiss Shot, The Baron and the Kid), the movie ends with a climactic billiards match, in this case, the World Snooker Championship filmed at Sheffield’s Crucible Theatre, the true home to professional snooker.

While Mr. Hauer’s casting is news, there has been buzz about Break for years.  In January, 2016, I had the opportunity to interview director and writer Michael Elkin about his forthcoming movie, which at that time, was quite early in its conception.  (Production is now underway with filming scheduled to occur in Beijing and London.)

Mr. Elkin shared with me his reasons for making Break:

I grew up on a council estate in West Norwood, South London and…we had several snooker halls in neighboring areas, such as Brixton, Crystal Palace and Tulse Hill. As a kid, I would often skip school and spend the day in one of them with a pal.

I am now 43 years old and sadly [those] snooker halls are all gone. Many were closed after complaints from local residents about late night drinking, drug dealing, fights and in Norwood’s case, a fatal shooting.

I first started writing Break in January of 2010 after reminiscing with a pal [about] one of the young guys there being a very good player, but he wasn’t interested in pursuing it. We wondered whatever happened to him and the seed was planted.

I started to think, what if this kid had wanted to make it, but was in to something he couldn’t get out of, or maybe he didn’t want to. Maybe he preferred the idea of being a crook, a bad guy. The idea, literally started with an image I had of a young guy in a smoky, dimly lit snooker/pool hall, brandishing a broken cue as a weapon.

I sat down and drew a picture of a kid in a hooded top, standing behind a table ready to strike anybody that came near him with the butt-end of a snooker cue. I stared at the picture a while, cogs whirring and decided on the idea of this troubled kid with a talent, but very little else in the way of guidance.

What this kid needed was a Break…I wrote the first draft in about two months, but wasn’t happy with it, so put it in a drawer and forgot about it for years. Recently I took it out of the drawer, gave it a polish and thought, okay this is pretty good now. Let’s do it.

Like many filmmakers who choose to make billiards central to their stories, Mr. Elkin was aware that too little snooker and the film loses its authenticity and narrative thread; too much snooker and moviegoers will grow restless with the slow pace.

Michael Elkin BreakRecent news developments, coupled with Mr. Elkin’s comments to me, indicate he intends to balance this deftly.

The movie’s realism is informed not only by the collaboration with the World Snooker Association, and the filming at Sheffield’s but also the casting of global snooker pros such as China’s Mr. Wenbo, Ireland’s Ken Doherty, and Britain’s Jack Lisowski. Mr. Elkin intends to focus especially on “a variation of pots such as doubles, long pots and plants rather than the cue ball being stuck behind the brown whilst a player deliberates how to get out of it. Clever shots mostly.”

But, at the same time, Mr. Elkin explains, “Although I love to watch [snooker], I am aware that film fans are not settling in to watch a snooker game. Break is an urban drama where snooker just happens to be our protagonists’ way out of a bad situation.  That said, there is of course plenty of snooker action to satisfy fans, but also enough drama to make it a film. Think ‘Rocky with a snooker cue’.”

That Mitchell and Webb Look – “Snooker Commentators”

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“Well that was a lucky chance for young Mark Deacon, but as usual, he approaches the table with – how does one put it – a face like a slapped ass.” — Peter DeCoursey

Mitchell and WebbWhen it comes to snooker commentary, Ted Wilkes and Peter DeCoursey are in a class by themselves. Exactly what class is another question.  The two retired players, perpetually drinking, chain-smoking, and sweating in their airless cramped radio booth, spend the bulk of their on-air time talking insensitively about the players and sharing inappropriate stories, such as Mark Deacon’s attempts at suicide, or – how shall I put it – “bids for oblivion.”

Of course, that’s the comic genius of David Mitchell and Robert Webb, who respectively play Ted and Peter on each “Snooker Commentators” segment of their British sketch comedy That Mitchell and Webb Look.

Mitchell and WebbThe comedians’ dipsomaniacal duo first appeared on the radio show That Mitchell and Webb Sound. Then, in 2006, the ex-snooker-shooting sots, along with numerous other sketch characters, moved to television, where That Mitchell and Webb Look eventually won a BAFTA aware for “Best Comedy Programme or Series.”

Though That Mitchell and Webb Look ran for four seasons between 2006 and 2010, I could only locate a handful of “Snooker Commentator” sketches, all from the first season.  Always kicking off with Ted’s catch phrase, “Oh, that’s a bad miss,” and one of the duo bringing in the evening’s potables, the first episode starts with the pair mocking past-his-prime snooker player Harry Vaughn and the final episode ends with Ted and Peter revealing the secret snooker lyrics behind Chris de Burgh’s career-launching anthem, “The Lady in Red.” (Never seen you looking so shiny as you did tonight | Never seen your baize so tight |You are amazing.)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u_Sp8AsbMVk

In the real world of snooker, with its genteel traditions, it would be unimaginable to have commentators as boorish as Ted and Peter. However, snooker commentary has not been irreproachable. In 2016, the snooker commentator John Virgo said during the semi-finals of the World Snooker Championship, “I wanted to watch a bit of racing this afternoon. I’ll be lucky to watch some f****** Match of the Day.” Apparently, he thought his microphone was off.

Similarly, the former cueman Willie Thorne was commentating in 2017 during the first day of the Betfred World Championship when he said to his co-host Peter Edbon (in reference to the struggling match player Anthony McGill), “When you ‘go’ here though Pete, it is a f****** nightmare this place.”

But, these vulgar verbal bloopers are rather mild compared to gaffes uttered by sports announcers across the Channel here in the U.S.

For example, Jimmy ‘The Greek’ Snyder said to a reporter in 1988, “The black is a better athlete to begin with because he’s been bred to be that way…This goes back all the way to the Civil War when the slave owner would breed his big black to his big woman so that he could have a big black kid.” CBS fired him immediately.

Or, how about ESPN commentator Mark Madden, who said in 2008, “I’m very disappointed to hear Senator Ted Kennedy of Massachusetts is near death because of a brain tumor…I always hoped Senator Kennedy would live long enough to be assassinated”?  And then there is Fox Sports baseball commentator Steve ‘Psycho’ Lyons, who blasted outfielder Shawn Green for skipping a game because of the Jewish holiday Yom Kippur. Lyons said, “He’s not even a practicing Jew. He didn’t marry a Jewish girl…And from what I understand, he never had a bar mitzvah, which is unfortunate because he doesn’t get the money.”

And these sleazebags are not even the worse of the lot. Remember Marv Albert, who sodomized a woman and then forced her to perform oral sex, all while supposedly wearing white panties and a garter belt? Sean Salisbury was an NFL analyst for ESPN when it became public that he sent pictures of his private parts to ESPN female employees. Seven-time Pro Bowl player Warren Sapp joined the NFL Network as a commentator only to have his contract quickly terminated after he was arrested on suspicion of soliciting and assaulting a prostitute.

Finally, there is the all-time king of scuzz, local New Orleans sportscaster Vince Marinello, who murdered his ex-wife in 2006.  He shot her twice in the head. His cover-up was so poor that at his house the police found a “to-do” list related to the murder, along with records of him purchasing the type of bullets used for the murder.

So, Ted and Peter may not be most polished pair, but compared to some of their real-world counterparts, I’m quite willing to overlook the occasional stein, or six, of ale.

You, Me & Them – “The Legend of Old McCreadie”

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On May 3, 2013, Judd Trump was shooting against Ronnie O’Sullivan in the semifinals of that year’s World Snooker Championship. Down 4-32 in the frame, Mr. Trump lined up for his shot when a loud farting sound thundered through the Crucible Theatre. Described as a “bit of noise in the crowd,” the sound, which some later ascertained was created by a fart machine, had the audience in guffaws until the referee was able to quiet down the crowd. Mr. Trump may have regained his concentration, but he ultimately lost the match 17-11.

Old McCreadieAlmost six months later, another snooker match was repeatedly disturbed, this time by a mixture of ill-timed sneezes, cell phone rings, and the occasional crinkling of a too-new Danny Zuko leather jacket.  Fortunately, this was not another WSC match, but rather the plotline of an amusing television episode of You, Me & Them entitled “The Legend of Old McCreadie.” The full episode is available to watch here.

Even for Brits, You, Me & Them may be hard to remember. Airing on UKTV in 2014, the original comedy series lasted only 12 episodes before it was yanked. The show centers on a married couple, Lauren Grey (Eve Myles) and Ed Walker (Anthony Head), who are madly in love despite their 26-year age difference.  Their families think a quarter-century age gap is irreconcilable, but in fact, the couple do just fine while everyone around them is engulfed in chaos and craziness.

Like many sitcom episodes, “The Legend of Old McCreadie” has several interlocking stories, including one thread in which Ed and his father-in-law Clive (Jeff Rawle) decide to do some family bonding by attending a local snooker match where they can get “drama and excitement, yet peace and quiet.”

Their troubles start when Clive begins violently sneezing as a result of an allergic reaction to the mohair jumper of the woman seated in front of him.  Then, Ed’s leather jacket, which has never been broken in, makes distracting squeaking noises each time he moves.  Thus, to avoid moving, he enlists Clive’s help to scratch his itches, raising eyebrows from those around them.  Adding to the awkwardness, Clive’s wife keeps calling his cellphone to get the alarm codes as she fears someone may be breaking into the house.  The situation only gets worse as Clive attempts to hand signal the alarm code over live television, since he knows his wife can see him on the telly.  Whatever patience the players, referee, and audience members had exhibited up to this point completely disappears and cacophony ensues.

The episode scores points for lampooning the genteel core of snooker. After all, this is a sport in which “the players wear bowties and waistcoats, the referees are dressed formally with white Mickey Mouse gloves, and the crowd is mainly hushed and silent.”[1]

In describing the “intensity of silence” as one of the “characteristics of true snooker,” one writer said:

Some players might actually prefer more of a constant backdrop of noise, but that’s not in the foundations of the sport. Yes, the sport came from an Imperial room of commission officers, but walk into any snooker club now and pretty much the only noise heard is coming from the tables, cues, balls and pockets.  And for the fan, the knowledge of having to stay as quiet as possible adds to their own intensity in that moment.[2]

Amidst this revered soundlessness, is it any wonder that Ed and Clive’s peccadillos are received with such disdain?

In fact, similar offenses have led to snooker audience members getting stern warnings and even outright ejections from the matches.  Such was the case when an audience member got a bit too boisterous at the Ronnie O’Sullivan vs. Mark Selby Masters Final in January 2014.  And, in Mr. O’Sullivan’s match against Gary Wilson in April 2017, a drunk heckler had to be removed due to his disruptive behavior.

Of course, had Ed and Clive come to watch Kyren Wilson compete against Mark Allen in the semi-finals of the 2018 World Snooker Championship, perhaps they would have been a bit more lucky.  As snooker fans may recall, Mr. Wilson was down 32-45 with a difficult lead on the 6-ball, when he was interrupted not once, not twice, but three times by a spectator’s mobile phone. And though the referee was quick to oust the culprit, it was Mr. Wilson who said, “Don’t kick him out, just turn the phone on silence,” which won applause from the audience.

Mr. Wilson went on to beat Mr. Allen 13-6.  You draw your own conclusion.

[1]       “The Complete Guide to Understanding Snooker,” April 13, 2017.

[2]       “It’s There! Can You Keep the Noise Down Please?!,” April 21, 2015.

Lovejoy – “The Colour of Mary”

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When historians chronicle the origins of billiards, they frequently cite Mary, Queen of Scots, as one of the sport’s earliest and most famous enthusiasts.

Colour of Mary

Painting of Mary, Queen of Scots, by Nicholas Hilliard. The painting resides at the National Portrait Gallery in London.

Mary ruled over Scotland for almost 25 years in the mid-16th century. When she claimed she was the legitimate heir to the throne of England, the current queen, Elizabeth I, had her confined to various castles.  One of the last prisons for Mary was Tutbury Castle, where she was moved to in 1585.  Under the guardianship of the Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster, she was treated kindly and was granted her request to have a billiards table on the premises.

However, her time at Tutbury was short-lived.  She was subsequently moved to Fotheringay Castle, without her billiards table.  There, she was found guilty of plotting to assassinate Elizabeth and was beheaded in 1587. According to reports from her lady-in-waiting, her headless body was wrapped in the cloth from the billiards table.

Now, fast-forward about 400 years.  Charlie Gimbert, a sleazy antiques dealer, has inherited the management of fallen snooker champion Murray McNally, who insists his game depends on the procurement of Mary, Queen of Scots’ billiards table.  To find the table, Gimbert contracts Lovejoy, a rougish dealer, and sics him on the impossible fool’s errand with a promise of a big payoff if he successfully secures the trophy.

Colour of MaryWell, that’s at least the premise of “The Colour of Mary” episode of the British comedy-drama series Lovejoy.  First aired in 1986, Lovejoy follows the antique-hunting adventures of the eponymous Lovejoy (Ian McShane).  The series had a five-year gap between its first and second seasons, which is why this particular episode aired in January, 1993, during the fourth season.

“The Colour of Mary,” with an obvious cultural nod to The Color of Money, begins with Lovejoy’s well-intended pursuit of the mythical table. Unfortunately, after connecting with antique historians and visiting the famed Fotheringay Castle, it becomes clear to Lovejoy that the table no longer exists, most likely incinerated hundreds of years ago along with all of Mary’s possessions.

Expecting that neither Gimbert (Malcom Tierney) nor McNally (Alex Norton) know the table’s true history, Lovejoy proceeds to create a forgery, using some early baize and nailing it to an Elizabethan table.  The table is put up for auction by an estate, and Gimbert buys it for £15,000 with the intent of showing it to McNally.  But, surprise, surprise, McNally was acting in his own ruse, and upon seeing the table, proceeds to demolish it, citing his militant preference for snooker over billiards.

This curious coda seems intent on fanning the flames of a ‘snooker versus billiards’ rivalry, but I strongly question whether such a dogfight exists.  More to the point, any player that would take an axe to an antique billiards table is truly not deserving of his cue stick.

“The Colour of Mary” also include an exhibition snooker match with real world snooker champion Dennis Taylor, but his presence does little to save this rather uneven episode.

The full episode is available for purchase on YouTube.