The Rack Pack (2016 film)

Having recently been immersing myself in appreciation of snooker's "golden age" - from the late 1970s through to the early 1990s - I decided to watch the 2016 film "The Rack Pack", a comedy-drama which is set in that era, focusing primarily on the rivalry between Alex "Hurricane" Higgins and Steve Davis.

The early portion of the movie introduces us to the two main protagonists, capturing and invoking the contrast between the freewheeling maverick Higgins and the more reserved and clean-cut Davis. The "retro" settings and stylings are surprisingly convincing, and there is excellent utilization of classic Seventies rock and pop music (Led Zeppelin, T.Rex, The Who, Thin Lizzy etc).

I must say that I was impressed and drawn in by Luke Treadaway's performance as Alex Higgins. Alright, some might argue that he is too good-looking, and that he doesn't always exude the mercurial shakiness of the character. However, he does nail down much of the famed truculence and swagger, and some of the on-table mannerisms. Kevin Bishop is likeable and entertaining in a somewhat "cartoonish" portrayal of Davis' manager, Barry Hearn.

As is often the case with "biopic" type projects, facts, incidents and anecdotes are packed into a condensed timespan. Any inaccuracies and distortions here will only irritate the anoraks and those intimately cognisant of the true history and chronology. Allowances must be made for the comedy element of this production.

The snooker scenes are very realistic and credible, leaving me wondering whether the actors might have been selected for their roles because they had some modicum of proficiency at the game.

In emphasizing the contrasts in temperament, approach and playing style between the two main players, the film-makers may have slightly over-laboured the supposed "nerdiness" and squareness of the young Steve Davis. This was probably done to entrench the notion that the two men represented polar opposites.

A major sub-plot in "The Rack Pack" is the increasingly corporate and commercial nature of snooker, as orchestrated by Barry Hearn, Higgins' perceived exclusion and alienation from that milieu, and the increasing bitterness and resentment which consequently built up within him. Indeed, though this is ostensibly a work which chronicles and examines the Higgins-Davis dynamic, much of the most vibrant and penetrating dialogue is that between the Higgins and Hearn characters.

The one scene which rather jarred with me was the one featuring a nightclub "altercation" between the Hurricane and Cliff Thorburn. Did anything remotely like this actually happen in reality?  A few things like this were doubtless added for dramatic effect, like they are in many similar pictures, and they didn't really tarnish my overall appreciation of the piece.

Another intriguing sub-text is a depiction of the relationship between Alex Higgins and Jimmy White, the latter gradually inheriting the mantle of "People's Champion" from the former. The narrative seems to imply that White learned from some of the mistakes of his "mentor", being prepared to make minor concessions to pragmatism and conformity in order to fit in with a changing sport and a changing world.

The decline of Higgins is, I would contend, quite deftly, touchingly and sensitively handled in this movie. It dovetailed with one of the central messages of the film, about the "cultural" tensions and the changing of the times.  Alex played a pivotal role in creating and popularizing modern snooker, but found himself being marginalized and left behind as others prospered both on and off the table.

Overall, I found "The Rack Pack" to be an enjoyable and well-produced film. It concentrates mostly on the personalities and the human aspects, rather than the intricacies of snooker itself, and largely succeeds as a result.

Rubik's Cube

A few days ago I was seized by the urge to purchase one of these:

Sure enough, earlier today I went out and bought myself one. Strangely enough, during the Rubik's Cube craze of the 1980s, I had my enthusiasm for the whole thing well under control. I owned one of course, but fairly early on in the piece I was somewhat discouraged by the realisation that several of my friends were disturbingly proficient at unlocking the solution to the cube's mysteries. Peer pressure and bragging rights being what they are at that age, I evinced disinterest and apathy, and quietly detached myself.

Now, three decades later, I can truly appreciate the greatness of the cube, its design, and its educational and spiritual benefits. In fact, I would go as far as to say that it was the last truly worthwhile and genuinely substantial "craze" or fad of its type, in that it is indisputably benign and a force for good in the world.

Computing Back Then

Over the past day or two, I have been watching a few documentaries pertaining to "old school" computing, and it got me thinking about the nature of my own computing experiences in far off days.

My computing days began, as for so many others of my age, with the home computer boom of the early 1980s. Up until 1982/83, I had no real idea that "ordinary people" had computers in their own homes. My eyes were opened after seeing a friend using his Sinclair ZX81 (called a Timex in the USA, I believe?). At Christmas 1983, after the usual "hard sell" to my mother, extolling the "educational benefits" to be derived, I received my first computer, the iconic ZX Spectrum.

The computers of that era were hugely limited and primitive by today's standards, but they had a magic and a fallibility that was strangely endearing, and a stark contrast to today's "templated" world.  The technical limitations were part of the magic. There was no social element to the 1980s boom, from my perspective. The only "networking" was a bit of desultory schoolyard chatter about the machines and games themselves.

As with other youth sub-cultures,  in the early to mid 1980s teenagers split into factions, owing their allegiance to a particular computer, and vehemently defending them against the contempt of others. As a Spectrum owner, the main "rival" groups were those people who favoured either the Commodore 64 or the BBC Micro.

C64 users tended to denigrate us because of the "superior" specification of their machine. It even had a proper keyboard! The BBC clique, on the other hand,  evinced a different kind of "superiority", based on the notion that the Micro was more suited to intellectual and erudite pursuits, unsullied by what they viewed as our juvenile inclinations. This "tribalism" seems foolish and petty now, although I guess it was innocuous enough when pursued by adolescents. I wish the same could be said about similar antagonisms practised in the 21st century by "grown ups"...

By about 1985/86, the appeal of computers was beginning to diminish, as other distractions intervened. My computer was consigned to a dusty corner, and fell into disuse, looking increasingly forlorn. I can't even precisely recall what became of it. It must have fall victim to some "spring cleaning" in the late 1980s or early 1990s. Apart from using PCs at work, my only contact with the IT world came with a brief flirtation with the idea of buying an Amiga...

It was only eight or nine years ago that I got another computer, and this was only because it was virtually given to me by a relative. Yes, the internet is wonderful, and I couldn't live without it, but I still look back with fondness and nostalgia at those far off days of miniscule memory, erratic power supply units and programs loaded by cassette....

Chess

In keeping with a recent drive, consciously and subconsciously, to vary and augment my range of interests, I have rekindled and revived my interest in the game of chess.

I played quite a bit of chess in my youth, both at school and with family friends.  However, as my teens progressed the game and I drifted apart, as new delights and interests took precedence. Now, I find myself wishing that I had found a way to maintain my participation in the game, as I can see what benefits it can provide, from both an intellectual and a social perspective.

This time around, it is not just the playing of the game which I am appreciating, but also the rich and turbulent history of chess.  The game's current practitioners appear to have some respect and reverence for the game's pioneers and legends, something which is not prevalent in all games and pastimes.

When I first became interested in the game, in the late 1970s, it was the era of Anatoly Karpov and Victor Korchnoi, and I recall the media coverage of the major chess encounters of those times.  I was too young to appreciate and absorb the hysteria and hype surrounding the Bobby Fischer-Boris Spassky match of 1972, and the inevitable Cold War sub-texts.

I can understand why some people sneer at chess, seeing a pretentiousness and over-intellectualization amongst some of its devotees, but equally the game can mean different things to different people, on differing levels.  It doesn't have to involve a profound existential journey, but can merely be an enjoyable and refreshing means of stimulating the grey matter.

Chess is also one of those pastimes which can be played, and excelled at, by people of all ages, cultures and backgrounds.  Often, people aged eight and eighty can play against each other on relatively equal terms, as each can bring different, and complementary, attributes to the table.

When I was young, the playing of chess seemed to be encouraged in schools, but I suspect that times have "moved on", and that this is no longer the case, in Britain at least.  Like many youthful endeavours, it has probably been swamped by the relentless advance of video games and other technological fads. It seems to me, though, that there is a place for chess in our education system.  It can be argued with some truth that it teaches skills and techniques which stand young people in good stead, and accomplishes this task more effectively than some things which are taken for granted as fixtures in "formal" education.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to play chess - against my computer....