Few filmmakers stand as tall as Martin Scorsese. I mean, what else is there to say about the man that hasn’t already been said? His importance to the art of film over the last half-century cannot be overstated, and to me personally, I don’t think there’s been a more impactful director. His 2006 Oscar-winning Boston crime epic The Departed got me into movies when I was about 13 years old. After seeing it, I started thinking about film more deeply; not only did I suddenly become obsessed with knowing directors and actors and their respective filmographies, but I also wanted to know how and why filmmakers made the films they made, and more importantly, what those films had to say about the world and the filmmakers as artists. These ideas have never ceased to fascinate me.
Scorsese is an absolute titan of cinema (maybe the titan of cinema, at least in America), making some of the most beloved and critically-acclaimed movies of the last 50-plus years. That’s a long time, man. Even for a guy as gifted and renowned Scorsese, it’s not hard to imagine how some movies might’ve slipped through the cracks over the years.
Some might say Scorsese’s 1980s marked a bit of a slow stretch in his career, but others will argue that it’s his most underappreciated era of work, and I think I’d have to agree. Raging Bull is admittedly a pretty tough hang, but nevertheless tremendous. After Hours and The King of Comedy are adored by true Scorsese Heads, and to me, they’re two parts of a trilogy of underrated Scorsese ‘80s flicks. The third film in this trio is Marty’s 1986 sports drama The Color of Money.
The Color of Money finds the legend Paul Newman reprising his role from the 1961 classic The Hustler, in which he played “Fast Eddie” Felson, a talented, small-time pool hustler with a self-destructive streak. At the star of the movie, the now-older Eddie is in Chicago, where he’s traded in billiards for selling liquor. Although he doesn’t play pool himself anymore, Eddie backs skilled hustlers as another way to make money. One day, Eddie sees a young dude named Vincent (Tom Cruise) take down a good local player named Julian (my guy John Turturro). The once-great Eddie sees greatness in Vincent, and although Vincent’s arrogant and green, Eddie convinces him and his girlfriend, Carmen, that the three should hit the road together. Eddie explains that along the way, he’ll show them the ropes of hustling while Vincent tightens up his game, and at the end of the six-week trip, Vincent will compete in a nine-ball tournament in Atlantic City, where they can make some serious cash.
On the road, Vincent learns some hard lessons about hustling, and while Eddie’s got the experience, he might not necessarily have the skills needed to impart his knowledge on Vincent, which causes some tension. But the two have some pretty undeniable chemistry, and Vincent relights the fire in Eddie, inspiring him to pick up his cue again. Eventually, the two once-partners face each other in the Atlantic City tournament.
On its face, The Color of Money seems like it rightfully should’ve been an average, or maybe even forgettable film. It’s a somewhat run-of-the-mill sports/gambling story, and the mentor-protégé relationship between Newman and Cruise isn’t exactly treading new ground. But Scorsese busts out his own bag of trick shots, elevating what would likely be a C to C+ movie into a higher tier. This movie is brimming with dazzling shots – and I’m not just talking about pool. When the camera isn’t crash zooming on players locked into the game, it’s flying around, circling tables in smoky dive bars and closely tracking the solids and stripes as they traverse the green felt. In one of the coolest visuals of his career, Scorsese zooms in on a ball, revealing Newman’s reflection. Did the film need this kind of artistry? Not necessarily. But did it benefit from it? Absolutely.
When you take a step back, The Color of Money probably isn’t even in the conversation for being Scorsese’s best work, yet it’d likely be an essential film in many other directors’ filmographies. That in itself is a testament to Marty’s eminence.
The movie also gets a massive boost from its duo at the top of the bill. One of America’s great movie stars in Newman – who finally took home his first (and somehow only) Oscar for his performance as Eddie after previously being nominated several times– is teamed up with one of the biggest up-and-comers of the time in Cruise. The Color of Money sort of acts as a passing of the torch, so to speak, both within the film and outside it. Eddie represents the old guard of pool hustling, and Vincent’s the face of the next generation. Vincent and company have taken the lessons of the players of the past and combined them with their own strengths (and vices, like amphetamines), changing the game. Is it better? Depends on who you ask. But there’s no denying that things have shifted with time.
Something similar could be said for the Newman-Cruise dynamic. By the time The Color of Money rolled around, Newman was Old Hollywood, and Cruise was New Hollywood, and you could maybe view the film as Newman relinquishing his Leading Man Championship Belt to Cruise. But unlike Eddie, Newman was never, ever, not even for one single second, washed up. He’s one of cinema’s all-timers; a true movie star, and an artist. Every few years, he’d top the billing in a great movie (Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Cool Hand Luke, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, The Sting, Slap Shot, The Verdict), and the choices he made in between those films were, at the very least, compelling. Newman wasn’t interested in just churning out the same movie year after year. He was a true actor, through and through, and his impressive body of work bears that out.
Then you have Cruise, who might be the last of a dying breed of movie star. The Color of Money catches Cruise on his ascent to the absolute peak of superstardom. Top Gun also came out in 1986, so you could probably circle it as the Year Tom Cruise Popped. On his way to the top of Movie Star Mountain, Cruise racked up a few Oscar nominations (and no wins – did the Academy even watch Born on the Fourth of July?) and worked with an absolute murderer’s row of directors – not only Scorsese, but also Steven Spielberg, Francis Ford Coppola, Stanley Kubrick, Paul Thomas Anderson, Brian De Palma, Sydney Pollack, Michael Mann, Oliver Stone, Ridley Scott, and Cameron Crowe. And, he’s headlined one of film’s most beloved and successful franchises – Mission: Impossible – doing his own (objectively insane) stunts and becoming arguably the greatest action film star we’ve ever had.
In retrospect, one scene in The Color of Money should’ve been all we needed to see to know Cruise was destined to reach obscene heights. While Warren Zevon’s 1978 banger “Werewolves of London” plays, Vincent runs the table against an opponent, sinking shot after shot while singing and dancing and doing what can best be described as kung fu moves with his pool cue. The camera circles the table with Cruise, capturing pure superstar charisma. The scene is a pretty concise encapsulation of what Cruise’s career would go on to be: For starters, it’s fairly cheesy, but Cruise is totally committed, which adds an element of hokey charm. But, his pool paying is legitimately impressive – he spent hours and hours practicing, and it paid off big time, adding a level of legitimacy to the performance. It’s a rare sort of dedication he’s carried with him to this day. In the scene, it becomes so abundantly clear that Cruise has all the juice needed to be the Hollywood’s Next Leading Man, following in Newman’s footsteps. Thankfully, Cruise didn’t make many mistakes in choosing roles in the decades to follow, and except for some notable whiffs in the late 2000s and the 2010s, his career was about as lights-out as you’ll ever see. I’d put Cruise’s IMDb page up against anyone’s. It’s pretty magnificent.
The Color of Money finds three of the most important figures in cinema at distinctly different yet equally interesting points in their careers: Scorsese at somewhat of a crossroads, about to make the jump from being a young director with nearly limitless potential to cementing his place as one the great voices of his generation; Newman settling into the back nine of his career, yet continuing to take on roles that reflect his dedication to his craft; and Cruise, on the cusp of becoming a megastar. The Color of Money ultimately might not be greater than the sum of its parts, but it serves as an exhilarating and unique glimpse into three stages of Hollywood greatness. To paraphrase Eddie, excellence isn’t about being excellent; it’s about becoming something. With The Color of Money, Scorsese, Newman, and Cruise lock in their places as film icons – if they hadn’t already.
Jalen’s columns, “Movies You Gotta See” and “The Free Play,” can be found online at www.medium.com/@jalenmaki.
Follow Jalen on Letterboxd at www.letterboxd.com/jalenmaki182/ to see what he’s been watching.
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