1. Michael Yablonsky CINE 380 L Kubrick: Odyssey of a Visionary
Chantal Rodais 5/14/16
“He’ll See the Big Board.” Chess & the Filmmaking of Stanley Kubrick
While I could contend endlessly about the overarching relationship of Kubrick’s chess-like
approach to filmmaking, I will attempt in this paper to be more precise and analyze instances where
this connection is most prevalent in his films, where I derived this impression from. I will argue
how a mind like his, adept at chess, approached filmmaking through specific examples; how many
themes, strategies and resulting experiences harken back to a chess players’ abilities and outlook.
Attention to detail, control, perfectionism and slight megalomania are all traits he possessed:
qualities that came from an obsession with chess. Viewers are conditioned to watch his films from a
distance—as is the case with many a Kubrick film, “the unfamiliar elements of its discourse
contribute to the film’s distanced presentation and reflexiveness…”i—we are seldom called upon to
like a character, as the chess player must view the game from afar, unemotionally, in order to think,
reflect and calculate. Many of his characters appear insignificant, unglorified or manipulated like
pawns in a game (the pieces to an intricate operation in The Killing (1956), the doomed soldiers in
the low caste of social hierarchies in Paths of Glory (1957), the emotionless men who are just along
for the ride of 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968), Alex who is manipulated by doctors and a resistance
in reform or political power struggles in A Clockwork Orange (1971), the family Jack Torrance
tries to dominate in The Shining (1980) and the dehumanized boys pushed through the meat grinder
in Full Metal Jacket (1987).) “…the majority of Kubrick’s films are based on power struggles,
calculations of probability calling for both caution and daring. The hold-up of The Killing, the
military strategy of Paths of Glory…follow the same pattern: a regular advance, interspersed with
shows of strength…In Paths of Glory, General Mireau measures the percentage of human loss
against the ground gained in yards as a means of calculating his own chance for promotion.”ii
We follow The Killing (where a chess game actually appears) in a non-temporal sequence:
while a goal is to be reached (the endgame) all moves must be carefully considered, previous moves

2. consolidated. It all accumulates to some final moves that determine the outcome (in both chess and
film), but while the viewer sees one move in the present, previous moves are shown as the chess
player recalls past successes or mistakes when determining the next one, as the film arranges the
overall action taking steps back to organize all that has occurred and translate it to the next move.
We hear a voice-over narration throughout, an inner-monologue as if the chess player is speaking to
themselves, calculating the game. There is a universal confluence, a joining and collaboration of
many characters and actions, varying in importance, like pieces on the chessboard—the narrator
refers to these as “pieces of the puzzle,” each with their own task(s), with short and long-term goals.
Additionally, the principal characters perform their introductory choreographies all moving
to the right of the screen: first Marvin, then Randy, then Johnny (termed by narrator as “perhaps the
most important thread in the unfinished fabric” or crucial piece on the chessboard,) and lastly Mike
and George. These movements are shown with tracking shots (mainly Marvin, Johnny and George)
and an added pan shot with Randy—their movements suggest an order, a process, like chess pieces
advancing across the board, guided by the grandmaster’s hand. Marvin stagnates as he moves right
and back left, as many players will move a first pawn out yet retreat before releasing their grip to
better consider during the contemplative early stage. The narrator tells us of Marvin in the intro, “he
began to feel as [important] as a single piece of a jumbled jigsaw puzzle.” Even a character that is a
piece (or pawn) of lesser importance, Mike O’Reilly, is introduced with less camera movement than
the others: a zoom out and pan shot, emphasizing his relative triviality. In Sherry and George’s first
scene, Sherry moves gracefully and beautifully with tracking shots toying with George, since he is a
pawn in her chess game of control, deception and misdirection—to take the money with her lover.
Twenty minutes into the film Johnny meets with the other four crucial pieces to the game
and reveals that other people will perform specified tasks irrespective of the main operation but still
essential. This relates to a chess player utilizing satellite-pieces of lesser importance, poised to

3. perform comparatively menial tasks in the game such as taking another piece, blocking another’s
movement or distracting the opponent (as Nicky and Maurice do in the film.) Considering all angles
and possibilities, Johnny informs Nicky “there’s a parking lot less than 300 feet from the northwest
corner of the track,” exercising the precise, technical and mathematical scrutiny of the chess master.
They are all composed as precise pieces on the chessboard with complex interrelationships relating
to the overall game—Mike brings the gun into the building, George opens a door for Johnny,
Maurice distracts guards and Nicky shoots a horse. Each of them have fairly short time frames of
actual activity and execution; there is more emphasis on overall organization, confluence and
infallibility—as Randy (and others) “knew the entire success of the plan depended on his accuracy.”
Chess in itself resembles military strategy, deliberated extensively upon in Paths of Glory.
The setting of the intro scene for Broulard and Mireau is a luxurious chateau for the masters to
discuss the war in (what Mireau calls “a pleasant atmosphere in which to work,”) considering taking
ground and losing pawns, emphasizing the power struggles and the distanced-strategist themes
Kubrick evokes in the context of chess: how a player cares little for a pawn, military leaders discuss
“acceptable” losses whilst moving with grace in well-lit and lavish accommodations. This setting
severely contrasts the dark, cramped trenches full of mud and suffering, where the pawns carry out
their moves as ordered by the puppeteers, the chess masters. At just around six minutes in a long
tracking shot frames General Mireau striding through the trenches, emphasizing through
choreography and composition his confidence, gracefulness and difference or detachment from the
men, like the player examining the pieces on a chessboard. A pace of fluidity and a position of
power and control is further stressed with his long, continuous tracking shot from a low-angle. The
Camera stays away from the general to suggest his distance from the men and the setting of the
trenches, as the unfeeling chess master strategist must be detached. Also, the camera shows him
continually yet denies him an actual point of view—we see the shell-shocked soldier up close
(whom he denies the credibility of) but Mireau does not. He sees not men but pawns, numbers,

4. degrees and advancement. A wounded man passes the unseeing general while he surveys the anthill
only through an enclosed apparatus, seeing a controlled landscape (a chessboard, a clear objective)
not from the ground or pawn level but from a privileged, empowered and mathematically logical
position from which he can calculate instead of feel or experience, just as the chess master must.
During the assault on the anthill at nearly thirty minutes in, camera angles cut between high-
angle and mid-angle views with wide-angle lenses in a series of long tracking shots with deep depth
of field. This is the privileged point of view of the strategist and the conductor, the puppeteer, being
fairly close to the action but also above them, in control. The men advance consistently, meeting
resistance and sustaining losses as in a game of chess. Zooming in and out at times to try and find
Dax evokes the master viewing the crucial piece within the panoramic chessboard-battlefield.
In 2001: A Space Odyssey, actors are nearly emotionless, appearing as empty shells or
vessels to advance the film, or pawns on a board. There is (generally) a palpable calmness to the
film developed through the slow pace of the narrative structure (and movements of spaceships and
characters), through actors barely acting, music and the nonchalant, measured voice of Hal. As the
chess player must do, the film and its characters progress unemotionally and mathematically. They
act like chess pieces being moved through predefined paths and parameters, an overarching power
(the master, the director) determining their actions and fates. Hal and Poole actually play chess at an
hour and six minutes in during the Jupiter Mission—it is a nonchalant battle of intellect requiring
forethought and considering of alternatives, as Hal later perceives future happenings and makes the
appropriate moves in the film to destroy his human masters. The chess game is shown from a high
angle to emphasize a master or bystander viewpoint, dim lighting and soft relaxing music suggest
an informal game, which is the intention of the chess master—to relax their opponent (or the viewer
of cinema) to triumph over them in the end as Hal attempts to control and excise them like pawns.
In the film’s cold, impassive and logical world of technology the chess master fits in well, human

5. consciousness battling unfeeling logic and mathematical execution as Bowman later battles Hal, and
as the chess player battles themselves for control over emotion and a perfect, measured execution.
Nearly forty minutes into The Shining, Jack Torrance views wife Wendy and son Danny in
the hedge maze from above, moving about in what could resemble a chessboard visually but more
so metaphorically (at the Overlook hotel). The overhead shot and slow downward zoom stress a
standing view over a chessboard, a view of supremacy over tiny pawns meant to serve their master.
Jack, with his hegemonic white male dominance, imagines himself in control of them, his pieces,
trying to possess his devalued wife “the old sperm bank” and son “the little fucker.” He tries to play
a game of chess with them utilizing subterfuge and misdirection, trying to control and manipulate
like the chess master. When Jack looks over the hedge maze we first see a wide-angle medium shot
a fair distance away from him surveying the maze empowered and maniacally hungry, then a closer
shot of him contemplating the move, what to do next to retain dominance, then the overhead zoom
of closer observation. Eerie music and flawless Steadicam tracking shots of Wendy and Danny in
the maze give the added impression that they are being watched. Later when Jack axes through two
doors just two hours in, the extremely wide angle camera shot pans rapidly to capture the entirety of
his violent motions—due to it being a crucial moment, one of the final attacks of the game hence
given the most scrutiny as victory may not be far off if every action is calculated meticulously.
To compete and profit from chess as Kubrick did, all aspects and dimensions of the game
must be considered (as in film), perhaps in order to fool your opponent (or the viewer) into thinking
you are less than what you are. To “hustle them”, give a view of victory and an illusion that they
may win, that they may understand all your complexities and objectives. Kubrick has played this
game with cinemagoers throughout his career, at times disguising a film as one thing and layering
meanings beneath, the ultimate triumph of his intellect and prowess shining through in the end
when multiple connotations and possible meanings are evident in his incredible body of work.

6. Works Cited:
i
Falsetto, Mario. “Patterns of Narrative Organization.” Stanley Kubrick: A Narrative and Stylistic Analysis.
Westport, Connecticut: Praeger,2001. 1-8.
ii
Ciment, Michel, Gilbert Adair, and Robert Bononno. Kubrick: The Definitive Edition Part 4.New York:
Macmillan, 2003. Print. Page 86.
Thanks for reading!