Album 61 - An intimate award-winning documentary

It took the better part of three years to be released to the public, whether due to financial reasons to create the film imagined or because the project mutated as it was recorded, it is hard to say. Whatever the reason, the director Halil Efrat has done a great service in the high quality documentary, depicting not only a champion forged from his earliest years, but a system and structure that westerners can only wonder at.

The film opens with Boris Gelfand taking the elevator in a somewhat non-descript building interior. He is a combination of calm and nervousness: one the one hand displaying a demeanor and body language that suggest he is perfectly under control, yet on the other pacing back and forth as he waits for his ride.

His destination is soon revealed: the first game of a life-defining match: the 2010 World Championship final. Win or lose, he enters a very select group of players who fended off all rivals, overcame all obstacles, to earn the right to stake his claim on the game's greatest title.

GM Ilya Smirin explains in the background the significance of this to Boris Gelfand

While this happens, the camera cuts to a mysterious scene with documents, statistics, comments
on his size, weight, even foot size. We are left wondering what this means. Is this some secret
KGB file on the player? The dates are all from the former Soviet Union after all.

The team behind him is not insignificant. From a chess point of view, we are introduced to his
compatriot GM Rodshtein, as well as Russian GM Tomashevsky and GM Eljanov from Ukraine.

This is not the only aspect of his team, as we see he brought someone to specifically help
with his state of mind, and overall well-being

Among the many testimonies are comments by players who have already trod that very path,
such as Garry Kasparov, and Vladimir Kramnik. Kramnik recounts that in spite of eating the exact
same as always, and not doing any sports, he lost roughly ten kilos during his match against Garry.

Again the camera cuts to albums, but much more intimate ones, with baby pictures of Boris,
already quite recognizable it must be said

The labels under the pictures are now clarified. These are the dedicated documents of Boris
from his earliest days, kept meticulously by his father. The comment above is one of the descriptions
Gelfand's father added.

Father Gelfand kept more than simply a record of pictures and clippings of his son. He kept it all,
from airplane tickets, to luggage stubs and hotel keycards. It was his hobby and passion, and
throughout his life, he amassed a staggering 60 albums. Had he lived, this fight for the title
would assuredly have been a worthy Album 61.

Boris Gelfand's father recognized his son's talent early on, and living in the Soviet Union, this sort of thing never went unnoticed. At the age of six he was enrolled in a special school run by chess coach Eduard Zelkind.

Zelkind explains that there was enormous pressure to produce results with the children in
his care. Not by the parents so much as by the state that paid for it.

In hindsight, after having coached chess in the US for 25 years, he realizes now how unbelievable
it all was. The children were forced to go to the special school early on, and those on teams would
come five times a week, training three hours a day, not including assignments! And don't think this
excluded going to regular school and classes.

This chess centric life-development still persists, with families hoping their children may
achieve elite success with proper guidance and support.

All this to one day, after decades of dedication and sacrifice, to reach just such a moment:
a chance to become the absolute World Chess Champion

Although many of these coaches, trainers, and friends, are long removed from Gelfand's
present-day life, they all played a significant role in helping the Russian-born Israeli to reach
here. They all came to witness the match, and are deeply involved emotionally.

As he grew up, his results allowed Boris to go abroad and compete at a time when such
privileges were far and few between if ever. Gelfand's father told his son to write and allow
him to see the world beyond the Iron Curtain through his eyes. It is a poignant request.

In the end, in spite of his failure to achieve his ultimate goal, we are not asked to pity him.
Quite the contrary: the dedication, care, and love by his family and friends are heart-warming.
Seconds before the very rapid tiebreak to decide his fate starts, Gelfand's mother winks at him...

... and don't for an instant think he was oblivious to it. We see him clearly acknowledge it,
and draw strength from it. This is yet another example of the quality of the filming, able to
capture this intimate moment and allow the viewers to share in it.

The game is followed all over the city, country and world

As we know, Boris Gelfand was unsuccessful in his attempt to win the title, though he can
hold his head high knowing he came as close as is possible without actually winning it. Arriving
home from Moscow, he receives a hero's welcome with his children running into his arms.

The film was obviously a work of love as much as anything, and it would be easy to overlook that the filmmaker could not possibly have started the project with its final shape in mind. Naturally, the idea of filming the final match and the various people who contributed to this lifelong goal were planned, but consider the title Album 61. The 60 albums by his father  were undoubtedly discovered during the process and the sheer scope of it and its many-layered implications changed the structure of the documentary.  It is a sign of the director Halil Efrat's talent and flexibility that this was embraced and helped give it the dimension it achieved in the end.

The film deservedly won recognition by winning the Art Direction prize at the Jerusalem Film Festival, as well
as the award for "Best Film" at the São Paulo film festival. The film was included in an interview published in
2014 at ChessPro.ru, and lasts just over an hour.