Chillin' in the 90's II: Josh's (End)game

The biggest reason I've never gravitated towards films that are fun for the whole family is, I can't handle added drama. Of course, added drama is hardly restricted to PG films - most people reading this post are probably familiar with instances like Peter Jackson making Aragorn a somewhat cowardly man who spent his life running from his responsibilities of kingship in order to make his eventual taking up of his throne more "dramatic"; in effect, making the character the polar opposite of Tolkien's man who spent his whole life quietly working toward that end. There seems to be a running belief amongst contemporary filmmakers that protagonists who are naturally good and heroic just aren't dramatic enough for today's audiences. Or something like that.

Folks like me who just want to see a story unfold can do one of two things: watch a Chinese or Japanese drama, or track down an elusive copy of Lasse Hallstrom's Searching for Bobby Fischer (1993), starring Max Pomeranc, Joe Mantegna, and Ben Kingsley.

A film I'd heard about but never found, Searching for Bobby Fischer is a biopic about a year in the life of Josh Waitzkin, who at the age of seven discovered a love, and stunning natural ability for, chess. His mother learns this when she lets him challenge one of the chess punks who play at the park all day; when she tells Josh's father (a beautiful, quiet performance by Joe Mantegna), a sports writer, he immediately searches the house for a board and asks Josh to play with him. Proud and excited, Josh's dad then proceeds to find him a teacher through the guy who writes the chess column at his paper. Bruce Pandolfini (Ben Kingsley, featuring a full head of hair and looking a lot like Malcom McDowell), a retired tournament player who now runs a chess club, initially refuses but changes his mind after watching Josh trounce a club member. Bruce is not a chess snob - he builds a relationship and learns about Josh by doing things like playing Clue and PacMan with him, before beginning his formal training. Kinglsey's performance, like just about all performances in this film, is quiet, gentle, and dignified, but Bruce's past hurts are always brimming just beneath the surface. It all sort of reminds me of the relationship between Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson (Robin) - Josh is a second chance of sorts for Bruce. When, in spite of Bruce's potent object lesson warning against it, Josh's dad starts him on the tournament circuit, the story takes a sharp turn as Josh is forced to maintain his character in extreme and bizarre circumstances before his final triumph - which is a triumph of character rather than a triumph of skill. At key points throughout the entire film, reminding us what Josh could become and emphasizing his refusal to do so, is archival footage, narrated by Josh, of Bobby Fischer's public triumphs and personal downfalls.

I mentioned my distaste for added drama because this is one of the few North American films I've seen that has none. Josh is not the sort of child genius who is intellectually brilliant but, in all other ways, essentially retarded. He's also not they typical writer's version of a child, one who is either irritatingly precocious yet unbelievably wise, nor is he an adult in kid's clothing. He is a normal little boy who loves to play baseball, looks up to his dad, and keeps both good friendships and a messy room. When he tours the country, including D.C., what he remembers and tells his friends about isn't all the impressive sights, but how much fun he had hanging out in cool hotels with his father. His natural integrity, and desire therefore, never seems out of place - everything about this boy is normal.

There is no added drama on the part of the adults in his life, either. When Josh speculates as to whether his favourite park challenger and ersatz teacher Vinnie (Laurence Fishburne) is homeless, and suggests to his mother that Vinnie come occupy the top bunk and thus have a place to live and make teaching more efficient, his mother doesn't ridicule him or go on a rant about why this can't happen - she tells him he has a good heart and kisses him good night. Although his father is a sports writer, he has no contempt for his son's love of chess, and despite briefly succumbing to the competition mindset, he wants nothing but the best for Josh. When an old rival of Bruce shows up at the club, with his forcibly emotionally and socially retarded chess-machine son in tow, we witness a confrontation but never find out what their history is, because it doesn't matter - the story is about Josh, not Bruce, and the writer never wastes any precious time diverting from that course. Also notable is that these adults are not omniscient. They both over- and under-estimate Josh on several occasions, and we know they are wrong because of how we've seen and will see Josh act and react.

Another beautiful thing about this film is that it emphasizes not sacrificing one's integrity for the sake of sparing the feelings of another who is only hurt because of their own lack of that virtue. So many films, especially the "family friendly" films of this time period, cheer and encourage exactly the opposite, making Searching for Bobby Fisher a great relief.

The sole weakness in this film is its first ninety seconds or so. The initial setup is done in that frustrating style of European minimalism wherein the scenes are abruptly ended with insufficient content - understandable, coming from a European director. However, this style doesn't surpass those ninety seconds, and the rest of the film couldn't have been done better.

This quiet, gentle, nearly flawless film surprised me by being one of the best films I've ever seen, in any genre. It's apparently very hard to find on DVD (if it's even available), but you can bet this will be my most pressing media-search goal now that I've tracked down Stargate. It's a great way to spend an evening, and I may even watch it again before leaving Saskatchewan simply because I don't know when I'll be able to see it again. Plus, it has the added novelty of seeing Ben Kinglsey with hair. Who doesn't love that?

As an endnote, some of you may have noticed the reference to Ender's Game in the title of this post. I did that because of the sharp contrast between these two tales. As I read it, Ender's Game presents the sort of child geniuses who are severely emotionally and socially retarded, unable to function in a normal societal setting, and presents them all as being avoided, used, and/or victimized by the adults in their life, many of whom also regard them with fear or contempt. It came off to me as a bit of a pity party. It's also the second most arrogant work of fiction I've ever experienced, surpassed only by its first sequel, Speaker for the Dead. Searching for Bobby Fischer is the polar opposite, a humble story of a well-rounded boy who expends effort in a deliberate refusal to succumb to the ways and attitudes of the stereotypical prodigy - a very interesting take on the nature/nurture debate, a debate Ender quite ignores.

Several people very close to me strongly disagree with my reading of Ender. I say, my blog, my rants. :p Enjoy the film.