The Color of Money, Martin Scorsese’s slick, glib sequel to Richard Rossen’s 1961 film, The Hustler, provides an entertaining experience that nevertheless fails to approach the intelligence and unflinching honesty of the original film. Paul Newman reprises his role as “Fast” Eddie Felson: having been “forced into retirement” by circumstances depicted at the end of The Hustler, Eddie hasn’t played pool in 25 years, and he retains a mere shadow of his once-unparalleled prowess. Without pool to give his life purpose, Eddie seems somewhat uncomfortable in his own skin; he has aged, mellowed, and is now content to watch the rise of other stars from the sidelines.

Enter Tom Cruise as Vincent. It is immediately apparent that Eddie (to paraphrase a quote from the first “Fast” Eddie movie) has more character in one finger’s nail clippings than Vincent has in his whole body. Perhaps it is wrong to think that Cruise’s character is meant as a modern-day version of the young, cocky Eddie. Perhaps Vince exists solely as a catalyst for Eddie to revive his passion for the game. Perhaps from the first moment Eddie witnesses Vincent shamelessly hamming it up on the pool table, he begins to fantasize about wiping the floor with him.

If, however, Cruise’s character is taken as the Reagan era’s answer to Eddie Felson, the decline of our cultural icons (from such breath-baited heights to such eye-rolling depths) is evident in every scene shared by Newman and Cruise. Vincent is an arrogant, insufferable brat (“he’s a little prick,” Eddie’s girlfriend remarks upon meeting him). His hair is gelled up into a wedge three inches high, which, when combined with his 3-inch-heeled cowboy boots, ostensibly prevents Cruise from looking comically short next to the ever-lanky Newman. Cruise’s quick, gleaming white grin suggests pristine and inexhaustible stores of self-esteem. At moments, I longed for the film to end with Eddie taking Vincent into a back alley and beating that grin into an dripping, raw-edged red thing resembling a well-cooked tomato that has been stomped on.

Vincent does not share Eddie’s pure passion for the game; when Eddie first talks to him at the bar, Vincent is more interested in playing an arcade game than in shooting pool. Even when he does start trying to make money as a pool hustler, Vincent shrugs off Eddie’s astute advice, blowing his cover time after time because he can’t bear to miss out on feeling like a hotshot and has never had to learn his lesson the hard way (say, by having his thumbs broken).

Fortunately, Eddie finally garners the chutzpah to stop mentoring insolent children and get back into the game himself. And this time around, Vincent is the man to beat. The final shot of the film is a close-up of Eddie’s face as he leans over the table to make the first break of his and Vincent’s decisive 9-ball game. In this moment, Newman fully embodies the Eddy of 25 years ago in all his raw intensity. The outcome of his game with some bratty upstart is irrelevant; what matters is that Eddie is reasserting his status as a pool legend. Eddie’s transformation in this film may be less profound and wrenching than the one he endured in the original, but it is satisfying nonetheless.

- Kate Folk