Eye of the tiger
By Josh Lasser
At one point in Pawn Sacrifice, the audience is told that there are an incredible number of possible ways a game of chess can play out. At another moment, the audience is told that there is in fact only ever one right move. These are not contradictory notions, but they require a moment of thought to reconcile. It is a moment Pawn Sacrifice doesn’t take, just as it doesn’t take other opportunities to provide shading and depth to its tale.
Directed by Edward Zwick, Pawn Sacrifice is the story of American chess legend Bobby Fischer (Tobey Maguire) facing off against a Russian, Boris Spassky (Liev Schreiber), for the World Chess Championship, what led to the championship, and Fischer’s own demons. This last part, as presented, is certainly more intriguing than anything else, but there’s also rather less explanation offered about it.
What Zwick has done with the film is to streamline Fischer’s life into a traditional sports film narrative. There is a poor kid with personal problems who overcomes setback after setback in order to win the big game.
Pawn Sacrifice takes us from Fischer’s days as a child, living with his mother and sister in Brooklyn with (presumably) government agents out front watching them—his mother is a communist—to his worldwide chess rock star status. The audience knows from the first time we see him play that he is destined for greatness and all the less glamorous moments of Fischer’s life which occur after the 1972 championship and before his death in 2008 are glossed over with an afterword and some archival clips.
There is a lot of glossing over that happens in the film. It offers up easy explanations of the world, Fischer, and everything else rather than go into depth on anything. When depth or subtlety might be required, there are no answers. Why does Bobby Fischer not like Communists? He has problems with his mother. What causes Fischer’s paranoia and other problems? The greatest chess players suffer from mental instability, it’s something about the game. Why, after making such a big deal about the conditions at the championship does Bobby change his mind again a few days later? No response.
The movie doesn’t just gloss over that which requires subtlety when it comes to Fischer either; it does it with others as well. During run-up to the big game, Fischer is accompanied by a lawyer/manager of sorts, Paul Marshall (Michael Stuhlbarg). Paul is well aware that Fischer is on the verge of a major breakdown for years, so why does he not get Bobby help? Because he works for the government and thinks Bobby will last long enough to beat the Russians. Don’t ask what portion of the government, what exactly the game plan might be (except beat the communists), or why Fischer’s other confidant, Father Lombardy (Peter Sarsgaard), doesn’t get him any help. Those are things which can’t be quickly answered, or where quick answers wouldn’t make sense, and so aren’t answered at all.
It is a shame to see the movie head down this easy route as it undermines some wonderful performances. Multiple actors’ work buoys Pawn Sacrifice and makes it far better than it otherwise might be. Maguire, Sarsgaard, and Stuhlbarg are all in top form, particularly Maguire who is forced to portray Bobby Fischer’s severe issues without a script to help provide insight for the audience as to what, precisely, is going on with the chess wizard. Stuhlbarg and Sarsgaard are both captivating and keep the audience involved.
Beyond that, in establishing the film so that the main body of it ends with this major victory for Fischer, for America, and against Communism, the audience is cheated out of more than 30 years of Fischer’s life. For a film that is built around the question of when (not if) Fischer will break down, to only talk in the afterword about his being arrested and having to leave the U.S. makes it incomplete. This is made worse because Pawn Sacrifice doesn’t concern itself with the whys and wherefores of the U.S. using Fischer to beat the “evil” Russians. It is a capitalism vs. communism tale and dismisses that which doesn’t fit the narrative. The implication in the title, perhaps, is that Fischer is the sacrifice, but by not dramatizing that which occurs after the championship, the results of the sacrifice, it undercuts any potential message.
Pawn Sacrifice winds up feeling an awful lot like Rocky IV, just substituting chess for boxing. There is the intimidating Russian champion who wants nothing more than the opportunity to play his best and beat the undersized American, and as for that American, he’s facing a set of demons all his own. Fischer is less gung ho for the match than Rocky, but Maguire is just as charismatic as Stallone. One is left wondering though if the stories ought to match up that well.
