Tag Archives: carom billiards

Siete mesas de billar francés

The Goya Awards are Spain’s main national film awards. They are considered by many in Spain, and internationally, to be the Spanish equivalent of the Oscars. So imagine my excitement upon learning that Grace Querejeta’s 2007 film Siete mesas de billar francés (translated as Seven French Billiards Tables) received 10 Goya nominations, including two wins for Best Leading Actress (Maribel Verdú) and Best Supporting Actress (Amparo Baró).

To put that in perspective, there are 53 movies that have earned at least 10 Oscar nominations. That pantheon includes Lawrence of Arabia, The Sting, Network, Star Wars, and Braveheart, to name a handful with exactly 10 nominations. Pretty impressive company.

Among billiards movies, only two have walked the red carpet: The Hustler (nine nominations, including two wins) and twenty-five years later The Color of Money (four nominations, including one win).

This movie should have been cinematic oro. What a disappointment.

Siete mesas de billar francés feels like a telenovela, with a bunch of broken relationships and budding romances fighting for viewer attention. The movie begins with Angela (Verdú) and her son Guille traveling to the big city to see the boy’s grandfather. Upon arriving, they not only learn he has passed, but that his billiard hall, 7 Siete Mesas, with seven French tables (i.e., carom billiards tables) is now in decrepit condition and that the grandfather had a number of outstanding debts. For Angela, the bad news keeps coming, as she subsequently is confronted by the police to learn that her husband has both disappeared and has a secret second family.

Faced with a panorama of bad news, Angela decides to stay in the big city and restore the billiard hall to its former glory. This includes re-assembling the hall’s one-time billiard team — now a bunch of gruff, ornery oldsters – to compete in the upcoming tournament with a chance of winning the prize money.

Tempers flare and tensions rise, but given the movie’s melodramatic predictability, the players are able to put aside old history and reconnect. There’s even a place on team Siete Mesas for the dead father’s crotchety girlfriend. Eventually, it’s Angela who must reconcile her past and truly come to terms with her father’s death (but not before ripping a number of portraits of him off the wall and shattering them on the floor – oh my!).

Billiards enthusiasts will be equally disappointed, as Siete mesas de billar francés talks about the sport much more than it shows it. Certainly, the title sequence left me hopeful, as black-and-white photos of carom billiards players in their prime faded in and out. This was nostalgia for the game of yesteryear. But, aside from some occasional three-cushion shots, which always impress me for their perfect manipulation of the balls, the present-day game never materialized. Even the upcoming tournament never actually starts, though there is a bit of surprise as to who rounds out the team when one of the players steals the winnings and goes on the lam.

Siete mesas de billar francés is mildly entertaining, and Ms. Verdú is powerful in the lead, though not as much fun to watch as she was in Y tu mamá también or Pan’s Labyrinth. But, given its accolades, this film ultimately felt like a table scratch.

Siete mesas de billar francés is available to watch on Amazon Prime.

Carambola (billiards movie)

Within the billiards movie genre, one of the best and least-known is Carambola, a 2005 low-budget, highly stylized film that took more than two years to reach the big screen after its premier at the Guadalajara Film Festival, and then, sadly, disappeared almost as quickly.  Directed and written by Kurt Hollander, an accomplished writer and photographer, who unfortunately for us, did not continue to make movies, Carambola is the story of El Vago (Daniel Martinez), an aging three-cushion billiards hustler, who has the chance for reinvention when he wins a billiards hall in a bet.

Carambola - billiards movieThe billiards hall is not only the sole setting of Carambola, but it is also a central character in this tale of reinvention.  Foremost, there is the tension between El Vago’s wish to preserve the “real tradition in this pool hall,” which means keeping the billiards tables intact, and that of his more business-minded ambitious assistant, El Perro (the wonderful Diego Luna), who believes that only old geezers plays billiards, and that to turn the hall into a successful business requires pool tables, discos, and strobe lights.  Even El Vago must concede that “pool is the flavor of the new generation.”

(For those that may already be confused, “pool” is not synonymous with “billiards.”  Pool is akin to pocket billiards, shot with a cue ball and 15 balls on a six-pocket table between seven and nine feet long.  In Carambola, “billiards” refers to three-cushion billiards, also called carombole, which is generally played on a pocketless five-by-ten foot table with just three balls.  The object is to score points by caroming the cue ball off both object balls, but making sure the cue ball hits the rail cushion at least three times before hitting the second object ball.   Fortunately, if you were watching the movie, you would not be confused, as the rules of three-cushion billiards are explained by El Vago in the opening scene as part of an instructional video he’s shooting to earn some extra cash.  Not only does he explain the objective, but he gives pointers such as, “knives longer than five inches and guns carried in one’s belt…interfere with a clean shot,” or “gold chains, shiny rings, and flashy tattoos on one’s hands disrupt concentration.”)

El Vago ultimately acquiesces to the vision of El Perro, thereby ushering in dramatic and costly changes that pack the pool hall with young supple bodies, but leave the elders disgusted and El Vago with a permanent ulcer that is exacerbated when all the “little shits…put their feet on [his] tables.” In great and uncomfortable juxtaposition, El Vago even kills the music in one early scene to stage a billiards demonstration by El Campeon, aka “The Champ,” who shows off some wonderfully gorgeous masse and rail shots to a rather apathetic and benumbed audience.

Carambola - billiards movieTrouble mounts as quickly as the bills.  El Perro is determined to take control of the billiards hall, or at least rob El Vago blind while doing lines of cocaine in the bathroom.  The sexy La Pájara (Laura Hildalgo) is a constant distraction, particularly once El Vago peeps her straddling his table to make a pornographic video with a cue stick. El Mexicano (Jesús Ochoa), a businessman with a bad temper who sells “cues made from rare woods with exotic and erotic images,” always appears to be one step away from reclaiming the bar he lost or using his “death cue” on the the kneecaps of anyone ogling his daughter, La Pájara.  And none of this bodes well for a billiards tournament El Vago is trying to organize to raise funds to keep the billiards hall solvent.

Amidst this offbeat soap opera, there is, as I suggested in the beginning, a battle not only to define the future of the billiards hall, but to re-examine the very purpose of billiards, for every character has his own dogmatic definition.  For “Gums,” billiards is all about “style, flair…winning is not so important.”  For El Judas, billiards is a distraction: “who gives a fuck about billiards…if you want to do something in this world, you got to play with bigger balls.” For La Medusa, “billiards is a mirror of the heavens…when someone stands in front of table and shoots, they’re playing on three levels: universe, earth and inner world.”  El Chiquilin is less philosophical in his world view of billiards: It is a “game of kings… unfortunately it’s been adopted by a group of lowlifes, murderers, rapists, prostitutes and pimps.” And all of this contrasts with the beliefs of El Vago, who not only is set on teaching his audience to play the game through his video, but also on cementing his conviction that “any second rate player can make a shot, but to miss believably, only the best.”

Carambola - billiards movieIt’s that philosophy that ultimately cues the audience that maybe the down-and-out El Vago, with the ghastly ulcer and pitiful business sense, is, in fact, “missing believably.”  I won’t spoil the movie, but let’s just say, to use another El Vago quote, “to win, you have to know how to lose.”

Carambola is widely available to rent or buy on DVD or instant video.  It should not be confused with the similarly named Mexican billiards movie Operacion Carambola (1968), the Italian billiards movie Carambola (1974) or that film’s sequel, Carambola, Filotto…Tutti en Boco (1975).

The Pool Hustlers

For those who believe “billiards” and “pool” are synonymous, it’s well-worth checking out The Pool Hustlers (1983, Italy, also known as Io, Chiara e lo Scuro), a romantic comedy that prominently features a little-known form of carom billiards called goriziana (or 9-pins).

Io-Chiara-e-lo-scuro - goriziana movieIn goriziana, nine pins sit in the center of a 284 cm x 142 cm pocketless table. Two cue balls and a red ball are used. Each player attempts to hit the opponent’s ball and, from there, scores points by striking the red ball, or by making the opponent’s balls or the red ball knock over the pins. Play continues until someone reaches or surpasses a pre-set number of points. Unlike most billiard games, players alternate turns, regardless of how they shot.

Directed by Mauricio Ponzi, The Pool Hustlers focuses on Francesco (or “The Tuscan”), a shaggy-haired goof who has a meaningless hotel job, but is an incredibly skilled goriziana player.  As he says, “I either play billiards or I’m at work thinking about billiards.”

The movie opens with the Tuscan walking into a billiards hall to challenge Scuro (played by real carom billiards legend Marcello Lotti), the reigning goriziana player.  As the Tuscan refuses to bet for money, he gets Scuro to agree to a wager of “spiked coffee.” The Tuscan wins, giving him great happiness and confidence.  But, the situation quickly turns when he is obligated to give Scuro a rematch, and he breaks his own no-betting rule.  To no surprise, he quickly falls into debt, and can only pay off the debt by stealing from the safe deposit boxes at the hotel where he works.  His only chance to break out of his Ponzi-like financial obligations is to play in the International Single Set Goriziana Championship, where he will compete once more with Scuro.

As far as rom-coms go, the film is pretty weak.  His relationship with the gorgeous Chiara feels paper-thin, and it’s hard to understand how the relationship gets serious so quickly, especially since it begins with him stalking her.

But, the billiards playing, both in the opening scene and at the championship, is extraordinary, especially since the spin, angles, and shot complexity, are almost exaggerated in goriziana. A love of billiards also permeates the movie.  It’s impossible not to smile as the Tuscan explains how God, a “leftie billiards player,” created the universe in one shot.  Or, how an aluminum cue (preferred by the Tuscan) is different from a wooden one since an aluminum cue initially “has no heart” and thus once a player wins the cue over, the cue’s heart belongs to the player forever.

I also appreciated the director’s clear homage to The Hustler, from the overall storyline to the character of Scuro, who is modeled after Jackie Gleason’s Minnesota Fats in everything from his impeccable attire to his gentlemanly aura.  And while the Tuscan is no Fast Eddie, Chiara does pay him the ultimate compliment when she says he “looks like Paul Newman” when he plays billiards.

For those that want to continue their goriziana education, The Pool Hustlers was followed by Casablanca, Casablanca (1985, Italy), and then much later by Il signor Quindicipalle (1998, Italy).  Assuming I can track down copies, both these movies will be reviewed in future posts.  The Pool Hustlers is difficult to find in any format except VHS.