Photo by Netflix
A montage has got to be a challenge for a movie director.
You show a series of mini-scenes, a sped-up series of events, as you move your viewers from one moment to another, marking the passage of time.
All without a word of dialogue.
How do you fill the space?
Here’s one way:
In that two-minute scene, propelled by Mason Williams’ “Classical Gas”, you watch two chess masters march through three days of chess domination on their way to their inevitable showdown.
You also get an idea of why The Queen’s Gambit, the Netflix limited series, is all the rage.
Haven’t watched it yet?
Do it. You can thank me later.
In those two minutes, you also see the beautiful mystery of Anya Taylor-Joy, and her genuine chemistry with her archrival (played by Thomas Brodie-Sangster).
You also get a sense for the masterful direction of Scott Frank.
Mr. Frank, along with Carlos Rafael-Rivera, crafted a living, moving soundtrack to the story of a troubled chess prodigy.
Mr. Rafael-Rivera, a protégé of Randy Newman, had worked with Mr. Frank on two of his earlier movies: A Walk Among the Tombstones and Godless.
He put together the instrumentals that are so essential to the series – but which work so seamlessly.
The composer realized, as soon as he got his assignment, that the music would start with classical, and segue to jazz – it is about chess, after all.
* * *
Yes, it’s a show about chess.
And you won’t believe how much you care about it by the end.
But it’s really about an irreparably damaged soul, and how far she can go to repairing her soul.
Beth Harmon (Ms. Taylor’s character) is raised in an orphanage from nine years old, after a car accident leaves her parentless.
At the orphanage, she falls in love with two things: the green pills that ease the turmoil in her mind, and chess.
Both of them end up dominating her life.
After learning the game from the janitor at her orphanage, Beth immediately shows a scary knack. Soon, she’s playing simultaneous games with much older boys from chess clubs at nearby high schools, and beating them all with ease.
She gets her ticket out of the orphanage when she’s adopted by an odd couple.
The mother drinks, a ton, and introduces Beth to the soothing magic of alcohol.
But she cares about Beth, and eventually supports her entries into local tournaments, and her rise through the chess world in the U.S.
And that’s all the plot you need to know.
What you do need to know is that Anya Taylor-Joy is like nothing you’ve ever seen.
She plays Beth as a perfect combination of intellectually brilliant, and emotionally stunted – a child in many ways, even as she travels the world, slaying bewildered chess masters.
Anya’s wide-set, wide-open eyes register every injustice that life throws at her character, even as she says nothing, throwing up another layer of protection against the world.
And Scott Frank’s direction is the other marvel.
The camerawork is just gorgeous, and so is the story telling.
As with the protagonist, more is told by what is left unsaid.
One of the joys in discovering this series, is that it gives us credit for our intelligence.
(It is, after all, about chess.)
And he and Carlos Rafael-Rivera mine the pop music of the day – to great effect.
After her adoption, 13-year-old Beth tries to fit into high school life, with limited success.
The only place she feels at home is at a chess board.
But she tries, going to a sorority party (the “Apple Pi’s”). The girls are fascinated with her, as if by a strange animal.
“What about those boys at those chess tournaments?” they ask.
She shrugs it off, not really getting the question. She’s not there for the boys…
Suddenly, the TV in the corner of the room shows The Vogues, singing their hit song, “You’re the One.”
“I love this song!” one of the girls announces, and they break into an impromptu dance party.
Beth can’t fathom what she’s seeing. She excuses herself, claiming a bathroom run, and dodges out the door – but not before nipping off with some booze from the father’s study.
The next scene, Beth is lying in her bed, safe in the comfort of the booze and her beloved pills and the chess pieces that float in her mind.
The camera pans back, and we see the chess pieces float on the ceiling above her.
The room goes darker, until all we can see is her eyes, as the haunting harmonies of The Vogues get louder and louder.
It’s the cheesiest pop song ever, but it becomes the best depiction of descent into madness that you’ll ever see.
Sometimes the song is maybe too obvious – The Association’s “Along Comes Mary,” as Beth indulges in her first marijuana binge.
(Boomers like me can probably remember when that song was used in drug education classes to warn against the dangers of “Mary Jane.” Hee hee…)
But often, the director allows the whole song to play out, which it pretty great.
Most directors don’t trust us to have the attention span to sit through an entire song.
The Queen’s Gambit does the trick of Mad Men, taking you back to the world of the 1960’s.
Part of it is the attention to detail in the clothes of the era – Beth is a stylish girl, several people note. (She actually carries herself much like Christina Hendricks of Mad Men – with a touch of Jodie Comer’s childlike Villainelle character in Killing Eve.)
The music is the other tool. Scott Frank uses the songs of the day as well as Barry Levinson did in Diner or Quentin Tarrentino did in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood.
It’s not always the obvious choices of the era, either.
When Beth and Benny – her main foe turned mentor turned crush – take a road trip back to New York City, they’re cruising in his VW Bug, happily singing together with The Kinks’ “Stop Your Sobbing“.
It’s a genuinely sweet scene.
For a made-for-TV band, the Monkees had an odd, sort of punk aesthetic, and “Stepping Stone” showed them at their edgy best.
Scott Frank employs it at a tense point, and he lets the organ and the intermittent screams help build the drama.
(This video of the song isn’t from that scene – it’s a collection of scenes. But if it doesn’t make you want to watch the whole series… then I can’t help you.)
Then there’s this drunken dance number, as Beth hits solid rock bottom.
You’ll never hear Shocking Blue’s “Venus” the same way again, believe me.
Tom Cruise was pretty good, dancing to Bob Seger in Risky Business.
But he’s no Anya Taylor-Joy.
My personal favorite is this one – Gillian Hill’s “Tut Tut Tut Tut”:
That plays after Beth is submarined by her adoptive, then runaway father.
He attempts a cruel, vindictive trick, trying to steal the house out from under her.
But Beth pulls the rug out from under him, and he doesn’t see it coming.
Next scene, she’s dancing/cleaning around her house, to this ridiculous, catchy little number.
I have no idea what the song means – it’s all in French – but it’s still hilarious.
(Actually, the “Tut tut tut tut” of the song is a busy signal. The boy that the singer has fallen for is on the phone – with another girl.)
There’s a reason that this seven-episode series is catching fire, and that chess sets are getting hard to find.
The talent and craftsmanship of Anya Taylor-Joy, Thomas Brodie-Sangster, Scott Frank, and Carlos Rafael-Rivera make chess a magical, exciting thing.
As always, thanks for reading.
I’ll let hot-shot New York comedy writer/wise-guy Brendan McLaughlin have the last word, with his sly Steve Miller reference.
Daddy Gibs 