Bobby Fischer Against the World On DVD

Bobby Fischer against the World is a feature documentary that uses the narrative tension of the 1972 match between Boris Spassky and Bobby Fischer to explore the nature of genius, madness, and the game of chess itself. This film tells the stranger-than-fiction story of the rise and fall of an Fischer, a true icon.

From veteran filmmaker Liz Garbus, and the final project of late editor Karen Schmeer, Bobby Fischer Against the World exposes the disturbingly high price Fischer paid to achieve his legendary success and the resulting toll it took on his psyche. Rare archival footage and insightful interviews with those closest to him expand this captivating story of a mastermind’s tumultuous rise—and fall.

It’s hard to imagine it now, but in 1972, America was chess-obsessed. The Soviet Union had used chess to demonstrate its intellectual superiority to the West, and here came a lone American, demolishing the Russian masters of the sport. At the height of his career, it was said that Bobby was better known than any other man in the world besides Jesus Christ. Relentless press attention, political pressure, and a monomaniacal focus on chess ultimately led to his undoing. The film explores how a dysfunctional family background, a focus on chess to the exclusion of all else, and the unremitting pressures of fame on the young, all conspired to destroy one of the great geniuses of our time. He is a sportsman, a genius, a visionary; but he is also a recluse, a fugitive, a madman. Everybody knows the name “Bobby Fischer,” but nobody knows the man.

The opportunity to tell any life story is an exciting and daunting one, and in the case of Bobby Fischer I felt the weight of it acutely. This was a man who was alternately admired and despised by those who knew him, very little understood by the public that revered him, who was socially awkward and deeply private, at the same time that he was one of the best known names in world. Many of those closest to Bobby refused to speak to the press for fear he would disown them, so a complete and frank assessment of his life could not truly be told until his death.

January 18, 2008 - the day Bobby’s obituary appeared on the front page of the New York Times - I was on a plane to the Sundance Film Festival. I had always been fascinated by his character, by chess, by the links between genius and madness. I began research and development the next day. Having shot films on death row, maximum security prisons and hospital wards, I imagined that making a film about the late great chess master would be a storytelling and aesthetic challenge, but I did not assume I would be walking into a tangled web of complex and thorny allegiances, of betrayal and broken promises, of fierce loyalties to the point of blindness.

The question of “was he mad, or wasn’t he” divided his friends into warring camps. Those who acknowledged that he was suffering from mental illness and should seek professional help were cut out of his inner circle. His friends grilled me before agreeing to speak, wary of my motives. Would I portray him as the mad recluse or the great champion who said some unfortunate things? We were googled and scrutinized, put on trial. There was no middle ground. Even after his death, Bobby was a divisive figure, who split his associates to opposite sides of the chessboard.

Given that process, there are those who got away. But there were many, many more who finally decided to come forward and participate. There will surely be those who knew Bobby who will take umbrage with our portrayal, but I do believe we have accomplished the most complete and intimate account of his life to date, turning over every stone in order to depict a man who often lived in hiding. I was fortunate to tap into a variety of film and photo archives, including the archive of world-renowned photographer Harry Benson, who was granted exclusive access to Fischer before, during and after the 1972 match. There are also never-before-seen photographs, letters and writings, as well as fascinating footage of Bobby’s last months of life in Iceland. In editing, we have crafted a style where Bobby himself narrates his life story; beginning, middle and end. In our interviews - from Bobby’s closest friends and family members to cultural luminaries like Henry Kissinger, Malcolm Gladwell and Garry Kasparov - we explore not only Bobby the person and master, but also the context of Bobby as a pop culture hero and reluctant patriot. The goal: to live inside the head of one of the most misunderstood and fascinating men of the late 20th Century.

The greatest trial that came in making this film had nothing to do with Bobby Fischer. On January 29, 2010, Karen Schmeer finished a long day of work in our edit room and was headed home, when she was hit by a car speeding from a drugstore robbery and killed. Karen was considered one of the best editors in our field. It was our first collaboration. We fought hard to get her on the project. She loved Bobby’s story. She loved the quirky people who surrounded him. The day before she died she wrote me an email, while I was again at the Sundance Film Festival, with the subject: “He’s infecting my mind.” The note said simply: “I forgot to tell you - last night I had a dream that I was hanging out w. Bobby Fischer in Park City during the festival. (The young, egotistical version.)” I just wish so much we were hanging out together in Park City during this festival.