When Heinrich Schliemann discovered Troy in the 1870s, observers were disappointed that the archaeological site’s grandeur did not align with its portrayal in Homer’s Iliad. When Howard Carter discovered King Tut’s tomb in 1922, many were initially underwhelmed by its small size, and later, by its absence of secret chambers. 

Sometimes, reality falls well short of expectation.

That’s certainly the truth behind the recent discovery of The Player, a billiards movie released in November 1971 and considered forever lost. For more than 50 years, billiards enthusiasts have talked about the legendary film, starring Minnesota Fats as “the greatest pool hustler in the greatest pool movie.” The film was the El Dorado of the billiards film genre, often discussed but rarely, if ever, seen, except by a select few who may have viewed it during the one week it played at one of a handful of Ogden-Perry Theatres half a century ago.

Like so many others, I had devoted considerable time to tracking down the film. I even discovered a two-minute trailer. It was like staring at a blurred photo of a head emerging from Loch Ness – proof of an existence just beyond grasp, or maybe a hoax about a film that was never finished. But, ultimately, all my sleuthing proved fruitless, all my leads were dead-ends, and I discontinued the search about 10 years ago. It was the opinion of this billiards film historian that The Player was gone for good.

That denouement – that acceptance of truth – was detonated two months ago when the folks at FT Depot, a film restoration community, dropped a billiards bomb by unexpectedly releasing the complete version of The Player, available here.

The story of that release, which is discussed in detail on the YouTube site, is infinitely more engaging and entertaining than the actual movie. An abandoned print, a delinquent drive-in operator, a storage room filled with rain puddles, Vinegar Syndrome, physical distortion – it’s a cinematic billiards miracle, a feat almost as incredible as Willie Mosconi’s 526-ball run or Efren Reyes’ history-making Z-shot at the 1995 Sands Regency 9-Ball Open.

As for The Player, it’s hard to overstate the awfulness of this film. 

Created as a decade-late response to The Hustler, which starred Jackie Gleason as the fictional, corpulent pool shark Minnesota Fats, Thomas DeMartini’s The Player featured the real Minnesota Fats (aka Rudolf Wanderone) in his film debut. Though Fats was central to the film’s marketing, he only appears in three scenes, all of which basically consist of him, playing himself, sauntering around the table, knocking in balls and making dazzling trick shots.

The rest of the movie focuses on a respected pool player Lou Marchesi, whose life begins to crumble through his association with Sylvia, a beautiful and sophisticated woman who refuses to understand or accept his way of life. 

The movie largely ping pongs between uninterrupted matches of 9-ball, 14.1, and one-pocket, primarily filmed at the former Shopper’s Pool Room in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, and cringe worthy scenes between Lou and Sylvia. The characters are wooden, the script is soporific, the drama is turgid, the pacing is terrible, the filming is poor, and there are almost two relentless hours of reusing the same musical riffs, with the sole exception being the inclusion of Shorty Rogers’ jazzy tune, “The Player.” 

Fats is, by far, the most entertaining aspect of the movie, which says something given his limited screen time and lack of acting. (He does have one of the film’s best lines, when he expresses concern to Lou about his overbearing girlfriend and deadpans, “you better dust this tomato off.”) 

Throughout the 1960s, producers had allegedly approached Fats about making another great pool movie to follow on the success of The Hustler. He turned down many scripts until he found one that was perfect and realistic with The Player. 

I’m pretty sure that story is bogus, but like so much with Fats, who is famous for claiming that Jackie Gleason’s character (created by Walter Tevis) was modeled after him, sometimes the fiction is more entertaining than the facts.

That’s also the story of The Player, a film whose mythology has proven to be far more interesting than its actual content. As appreciative as I am to the technical wizards at FT Depot, I can’t help but wonder if this film was better left in that storage room, shrouded in mystique and deserving not to see another day.