The Queen’s Gambit: I Laughed, I Cried, I Started Playing Chess
By: Mick Cohen-Carroll
Tags: TV Series, Film, TV, Chess, Emotions

My *Emotional* Journey Through The Netflix Series

Over the last year, I’ve experienced a sort of deadening of my emotions, as have many others, I’m sure. Nothing drastic, no depression, just a general feeling of numbness brought on by so many drastic changes and era-defining moments. Almost like I’m pulling a comforting little blanket of nihilism over my head, so that I’m protected from the instability of the world. And so, in my movie and TV watching, I’ve felt less connected to characters and situations which normally would have had a bigger effect on me. I’ve been less emotionally open or vulnerable to be affected by what I saw on screen. As a naturally effusive person, I would usually react emotionally to stories on the screen, but what used to make me well up or laugh heartily suddenly fell a bit flat. The Queen’s Gambit changed all that.

WHAT A SHOW!

A whirlwind of emotions took over me throughout every episode of this Netflix mini-series. Pride, betrayal, tragedy, humor, and an overwhelming sense of belonging, intellect, and friendship.

They were able to set up moments that unlocked the numbness from beneath me and helped me enjoy visual storytelling the same way I used to. I felt more in those seven hours of content than pretty much any other movie or TV show I’ve seen since last March!

Through its powerful storytelling and ability to set up emotional climaxes, I was deeply invested in the outcome and taken on a journey. Let’s see how they did that.

They made chess look interesting!

Not an easy feat as chess is not inherently cinematic and it’s more of an inert board game that takes place inside the player’s heads. But by juxtaposing it with the hero’s own feelings of loneliness and her pill addiction, we also saw how chess was a liberation for her, and we understood its appeal, even for those who didn’t know any rules prior to watching. We saw the board on the ceiling, we saw the psychological tactics players might use to trip up their opponents and we got a taste of the glamorous lifestyle of a chess competition jet-setter bouncing around international tournaments from around the world.

But The Queen’s Gambit wasn’t just about chess, it was about belonging and living with genius.

How can our lead, Beth Harmon, be part of this world while maintaining her genius? Will the head mistresses of the world weigh her down? Or will her misfortune with parental figures, her examples of depression or alcoholism be what blinds our hero to the very gift she worked so hard to construct? The intrigue permeates throughout the show and sets up a cathartic answer.

Society is simultaneously depicted as an unforgiving and forgiving place. There are moments of warmth throughout and continued support (like when Beth has her first period in the middle of her first chess tournament and her opponent gives her a pad, or anytime Jolene is on screen). And moments that are unforgiving. Cleo, for example, who seems to embody all that is wrong and distracting, seemingly knowingly disrupts Beth in Paris the night before the then biggest tournament of her life (which gives fodder to the fan theory that she is actually a spy working for the Soviets to take her down, so that the Russians maintain supremacy over chess).

Borgov seen here with his happy face.

But while the Russians are portrayed as brilliant, plotting and somewhat ruthless, their king, Borgov, is not necessarily the villain. He is Beth’s final frontier, and a machine when it comes to chess moves, but he is also a mild mannered family man, who does not have any particularly mean qualities. Instead, when she finally beats him, he stands up and applauds her. This makes for a powerful finale. It would have been cheapened if he perhaps got mad, threw a tantrum or showed signs of disrespect. But there was none of that. Like a proud father, he stoically hands her his king and makes sure everyone knows she won fair and square and is deserving of the title.