BY SCOTT STIFFLER | Like the game she must master in order to beat a condescending rival, metaphor-hating math whiz Maxine “Max” Kuftinec’s winning strategy for overcoming a series of recent upheavals hinges on learning how to move one step at a time, while keeping her eye on the big picture. It’s a life lesson that starts with a five-buck instructor’s fee, payable to New York City’s grouchiest chess player.
Filled with candid observations about adult concerns and schoolyard conflicts, screenwriter/director Evan Oppenheimer’s tart and engaging contemporary fairy tale hits all standard notes (cruel villain, wise mentor, peasant girl quest) while delivering a storybook ending that allows its hero to arrive at the classic “no place like home” realization in unconventional and surprising ways.
FILM | A LITTLE GAME
Written & Directed by Evan Oppenheimer
Opens December 12
1:05, 3:20, 5:15, 7:20 & 9:30 p.m. daily
At the Quad Cinema
34 W. 13th St. (btw. Fifth & Sixth Aves.)
Info: 212-255-2243 or quadcinema.com
Group Sales: movietickets.com (enter zip code 10011)
Q&A following Dec. 12 & 13’s 5:15 & 7:20 screenings
Visit alittlegame.com
Shot largely in and around Washington Square Park in a style where the chaotic motion of everyday life often leaves a blurry trail that invokes the goal-oriented movement of chess pieces, “A Little Game” is a quirky, affectionate tribute to the urban environment and the skills one must acquire in order to navigate it.
Slow to embrace change and quick to make excuses, ten-year-old Greenwich Village resident Max (Makenna Ballard, in her nuanced and assured film debut) is forced to stretch beyond her comfort zone when she transfers from nearby PS 41 to uptown’s Blackstone Academy. During a visit to the Chess Club, a deal is struck with her bully: Max beats her at chess, and the public humiliation stops. Max loses, and she leaves school.
Desperate to learn the game from square one and driven by the thought of sweet revenge, the increasingly independent Max walks herself home from school and locks eyes with Norman Wallach — a chess player so good, and so mean, that he appears to be the one guy in Washington Square Park who sits behind his chess board without a challenger. (“What is it with these names,” he barks upon meeting Max. “It’s like we’re all in a 1920s tenement.”)
Playing grizzled to the uncompromising hilt, F. Murray Abraham’s Norman is soon dispensing wisdom in manners both obvious and cryptic. It’s all part of his grand scheme to turn Max into a master strategist without ever letting her play an actual game — by showing her how to tap into that downtown “city kid” way of looking at things. (“Go back to the suburbs,” he growls at Max’s Blackstone tormentor, when the girl proudly announces she’s from the Upper West Side.)
Max and Norman soon come to a point of mutual respect, through a dynamic that recalls Mr. Miyagi and his young student. Confident director Oppenheimer lets Max blossom into a champion without the requisite genre training montage — although that “Karate Kid” nod comes with a sly wink: hero’s journey vet Ralph Macchio plays Max’s soft-spoken dad, who works as the super for their building.
Other recognizable faces delivering wonderfully understated performances include Janeane Garofalo as Max’s nurturing but largely absent mom, a very funny Rachel Dratch as the aunt who agrees to pass herself off as a nanny, and Olympia Dukakis as stern Greek grandmother Yaya — whose unexpected death doesn’t prevent her from making late night appearances in Max’s bedroom rocking chair. She could be a legitimate spirit guide, or just the figment (“pigment,” says Yaya) of a very stressed ten-year-old girl’s imagination.
Max isn’t the only one kept up at night with worries. Her mom and dad have to constantly make adjustments in order to afford Blackstone. When Tom complains about Sara’s decision to take work as a chef in Boston, she fires right back at him for having such a low-paying job. It’s not the only time the filmmaker lets his young target audience eavesdrop on a moment that’s honest to the point of being disturbing. But facing harsh realities and growing up because of it is, after all, the stuff of great fairy tales — and that’s what makes “A Little Game” a classic in its own right.
