The lure and attainment of hard won cash draws “Fast” Eddie Falson back to the world of pool hustling in The Color of Money.  

Now, it is one thing when a beloved character is brought back to the big screen, but another when a filmmaker such as Martin Scorsese takes the helm. As a result, the film is neither a homage too, nor a retread of Roger Rossum’s classic The Hustler, of which this film is the sequel. Scorsese is too gifted a filmmaker to travel down that path.

Rather, The Colour of Money successfully continues “Fast” Eddie’s story, some 30 years after the events in The Hustler. It is skilfully adapted to 1980s sensibilities, yet does not come off as dated; and features phenomenal acting from its star loaded cast of (then) young talent and veterans, including turns from John Turturro and Forrest Whitaker.

Of particular mention is (of course) Paul Newman, who in his eternal wisdom, agreed to reprise one of his signature roles, which he does to startling effect.

Although Eddie Falson may be older, it becomes quickly apparent that age has made him sharper. He has not picked up a pool cue in the last 30 odd years, in its stead creating quite a little industry as a liquor salesman, perfecting the art of the sale with his flawless diction and confident demeanour.    

This time it is a young and appropriately irritating Tom Cruise who plays the cocky hustler, Vincent, a man who Eddie later describes as a “natural flake”, complete with wall high hair, and a shit eating grin which Newman himself rocked to perfection in The Hustler. 

Eddie see’s great potential in Vincent, who he convinces to let him bankroll an expedition hustling pool, where he will dispense wisdom to the over confident yet talented upstart. Travelling with them is Vincent’s spunky girlfriend Carmen, played extremely well by Mary Elizabeth Mastrantonio.   

Watching Vincent at work invigorates Eddie’s passion for pool. In one instance, his anxiousness to get back into those smoked filled, alcohol soaked pool halls he haunted as a hustler, places him in an embarrassing situation when he eagerly races to an old haunt, only to find (to the amusement of his young  friends) that it is now a furniture wholesaler.

It is an equally humorous and embarrassing scene, which exhibits Newman summoning emotions he could never evoke in his yearly years.

In other occasions he simply transfixes the viewer with his steely blue eyes which pierce through the screen.

Scorsese –along with long time editor Thelma Shoemaker – has created an energetic, driving, and deeply felt film. As a standalone movie, it is a memorable yet adequate entry in Scorsese and Newman’s filmographies. But as a companion piece to The Hustler, it is an exceptional example on how to revisit an iconic character with respect, and above all, with a healthy new vision.