Bobby Fischer, the Greatest Chess Player
Was it too late for Edward Zwick to make a film on Bobby Fischer? "Pawn Sacrifice" dramatized the events leading to the 1972 World Chess Championship match between Fischer and Boris Spassky. The Cold War was long over, and chess didn't get top billing. Only public response would tell. Five decades ago, Fischer was the prodigy that the US was hoping for. He became an enigma after becoming world champion, refusing to defend his title in 1975. He was a controversial figure later in life.
Chess evolved ever since, with more world champions who might be better than Fischer. Except for the Polgar sisters, who competed against the male chess players on a number of times, no player made it to the front news page. It would be unfair, but this might be the reason why many observers believed that Fischer was the greatest player. Those who were too young to remember the sporting events during the 1970s might prompt to watch Zwick's latest work. And those who look up to Fischer's genius would be eager to see this film.
What was it about Fischer that captured the public's imagination? These would be the reasons:
Fischer broke the Soviet Union's domination on the sport. The former Soviet Union was unbeatable in chess, and no one ever wondered if another player from another country would break that stronghold. A Jewish geek from Chicago did it. American chess fans weren't surprised, as Fischer had been winning championships since he was 14 of age. He dominated his contemporaries like never been before. The Fischer-Spassky match happened during the height of the Cold War, which generated lots of buzz. The American's victory turned him into a legend.
Fischer was a polarizing figure. Many thought that Fischer's demands for the 1975 World Championships were unreasonable, even suggesting that he would be no match for Anatoly Karpov. His forfeiture of his world title may be a publicity stunt, but his reputation grew through the years. He was a recluse, where he agreed to another series (of matches) in 1992. It happened that the venue took place in war-torn Yugoslavia. The sanctions didn't stop the American. The legal troubles meant he couldn't return home, but he don't mind at all. Friends and supporters admired him more, but there were skeptics.
Many would argue about Fischer's place in history. Not a few believe that Fischer could beat the current crop of chess players, but there would be a big IF. The American could be too demanding, which some think was his way of gaining advantage over his opponents. There were lots of players who have eccentric habits, but Fischer's was a special case. Nonetheless, his legacy was assured. Those who were from the other side of the fence would think otherwise, pointing out the (American) media's tendency to exaggerate details (to attract lots of readers). They may have a point, but fans have to wait for another chess player like him. And it might take some time.
