SYDNEY FILM FESTIVAL: With tongue planted firmly in cheek, Computer Chess convincingly recreates a weekend programming tournament and its attendant eccentrics circa 1980 to comment on nascent geekdom, the dawn of artificial intelligence and personal computing, new-age religion, the mysteries of sex, primitive drug culture for the uninitiated and, of course, the Game of Kings.
Much of the film’s enveloping aura comes from the naturalistic dialogue
Given the uncanny verisimilitude of the film, which was shot in a faux black-and-white documentary style on vintage video equipment and sports frighteningly accurate production and costume design, how can one ascertain the degree of director-writer-editor Andrew Bujalski’s mischievousness?
Try this: 'What on earth made me think," he mulls early in the production notes, 'that it was a good idea to make an existential comedy about the oddball geniuses who thought it important that a machine learn to defend its masters at, of all things, chess? Perhaps it was already an existential comedy before I got there?"
Armed with this insight prior to first viewing, Computer Chess transforms itself from a shapeless, primitive and meandering fly-on-the-wall mockumentary to a rigorously constructed, admirably acted and disarmingly deep study in human vs. computer knowledge. That it also resembles nothing so much as one of those large-canvas ensemble films along the lines of Nashville or Magnolia is a testament to Bujalski’s rigorous approach to story.
The plot, such as it is, has all the unpredictability and surprises of any professional conference (or film festival, for that matter). Following a chaotic panel discussion chaired by jovial moderator Pat Henderson (Gerald Peary), the teams begin preparing for competition: the poised Peter Bishop (Patrick Riester) slowly succumbs to the siren charms of the event’s sole female attendee (Robin Schwartz) but hasn’t a clue how to move the affair forward, whilst abrasive Michael Papageorge (Myles Paige) wanders the halls looking for a room in which to crash for the weekend. Various bull sessions erupt in various rooms, with one participant memorably wondering, 'Is real artificial intelligence different from artificial real intelligence?" The answer, in both technology and human interaction, remains tantalisingly out of reach.
Bujalski’s films, which include Funny Ha Ha, Mutual Appreciation and Beeswax, come from a natural and unforced place, where the trappings of drama and the imperative of narrative flow with confidence and imagination. That is to say, his films are much less mannered than those of many of his peers; this is probably why the New York Times’ A.O. Scott anointed Funny Ha Ha one of the '10 most influential films of the '00s."
Much of the film’s enveloping aura comes from the naturalistic dialogue, delivered by a largely amateur cast that includes one prominent film academic (Peary), a couple of film editors (Patrick Riester and Schwarz) and a Computer Science professor (Gordon Kindlmann) alongside such veterans as Wiley Wiggins (Richard Linklater’s Dazed and Confused).
The sum total of these parts has been described by other critics as 'hilarious," and there are certainly comic absurdities within the film. But another, equally legitimate response is a rueful smile and a gentle chuckle in the recognition of an era, an ambition and a sense of purpose lovingly recreated and populated with an appealing gaggle of knightly nerds.
