The Hustler

Saw The Hustler, a Paul Newman film about pool hustling. It starts out fairly silly, introducing us to the seedy world of pool gambling. The big names all know each other, there's a secret system of nods and winks that let them know what they're up to and of course the poor saps who are taken in by these charming, sly men. It's like something out of an Oceans 11 film. The film takes an abrupt turn however when the protagonist plays a gruelling 25-hour marathon game against renowned pool-player Minnesota Fats. From there he meets up with Sara, a boozy writer who is living a similarly seedy life, although one that's fulfilling to her. Newman's character is obsessed with being the best, even though being the best clearly won't make him happy.

Like many sports films, this isn't really about the physical activity, but about the pursuit of an unattainable goal and possible lives that could follow after attaining it. Newman's hustler is tormented, self-defeating, the petty king of a tiny corner of the universe and the Eugene O'Neill-style street-level poetry comes thick and fast. Great stuff!

I also thought I detected echoes of the French New Wave, with its spacey, quiet shots and focus on individualism. The protagonist dips sometimes into the inscrutable selfishness that characterises the 70s (for me.) At one point he screams that everyone wants a piece of him. Ah, but this is only because he gives nothing of himself to those he loves. I think it's understandable if your girlfriend wants you to be a little open with her, yeah? No need for screaming protestations. I'm a fairly open person and this type of aggressive guardedness annoys me. I think it's supposed to be masculine and cowboy-ish but just seems kind of self-limiting and teenagery to me. Get over yourself.

Anyway, a very moving, very good film. It's got some excellent high-falutin' melodrama and some nice things to say about life.