Eh, exchange pawns for glasses.

Then the girl grew up, turned into Anya Taylor-Joy, she was adopted by an unrealized alcoholic housewife. Which quickly realized that the phenomenal reception ability could be easily converted into a stable income. And so it began. District tournament, then Kentucky, then US Open, and so on. True, there are some nuances.

First, the girl demonstrates her best qualities under antipsychotics and, moreover, loves to drink hard from her childhood. The second is serious communication problems. Finally, the third – she is a woman, and the world of chess and in general the world of the mid-sixties is ruled by men.

As you might guess, the series Queen’s Move is not only and not so much about chess: matches are shown at the e2-e4 level, refer to Alekhine and Capablanca, recall the Sicilian defense several times, episodes are named after stages (exchange, middlegame, etc.) ), but that’s enough. Yes, and Beth Harmon is not Luzhin, not even Zweig’s doctor B., but the ladies’ version of Will Hunting at minimum salaries. Her story is the path of an asocial genius-freak to triumph through the thorns of conflicts with others, bad habits and personal losses.

Plus a tolerant injection of feminism without pressure (it is no coincidence that in the decaying west the queen is vulgarly called Queen).

Here they smiled, there they cried, in the final they did both at the same time. Technical shooting by templates. An old-fashioned overcoming theme. Pretentious monologues in the style of I insulation will get stronger and come back.

Simple jokes, predictable dramatic twists. The soundtrack is a mixture of obvious radio-pops of those years and string-piano crescendos in the manner of Hans Zimmer. Normal, in general, Hollywood cinema – as if from somewhere from the beginning of the 2000s.

This would have been made for a bet in a week by a tough artisan like Edward Zwick or Ron Howard.

Which is actually not bad at all – especially in comparison with the endless meetings of the liberal Politburo on the same Netflix. There is a gay character on duty and a black woman on duty for fighting racism, but they appear in aggregate for 15 minutes – nothing, you can live. Much more attention to the Russians: the main enemy is the buttoned-up formalist champion Vasily Borgov with a couple of KGB officers at his side, bureaucratic playful handwriting and the impenetrable face of a killer.

Not devoid, however, of respect for the outstanding improvisational talents of the capitalist upstart.

Accordingly, old-school geopolitical theses of the Cold War times sound: they say that Soviet grandmasters are monstrously strong, confident and cool-headed, because they necessarily train in a team and feel the support of the collective – it would be necessary for individual Americans to take an example from them (and they, of course, will take) … There is cranberry – selected, ripe, with misted decanters of vodka, black caviar, fur coats and gloomy gray Moscow, which seemed to be filmed in Berlin. Again, like the good old ones.

Try to say that none of this is touching.

Well, Taylor-Joy, of course, is good at any time in any weather. Here she concentratedly drills the board with her eyes – just look, the figures will light up. But, having whisked whiskey from his throat and swallowing prohibited substances, he dances in one nightie under a shizgaru.

Or nostalgic for childhood, crying uncontrollably. We, in the Witch, understood that the best actress for the role of all sorts of weird and misery is nowhere to be found. And if someone suddenly still disagrees with us, then the Queen’s Move is a gifted way to change your mind.

And generally while away the free evening.