ANDYou’ll need a fairly high level of geek tolerance for this highly detailed and specialized account of Sir Clive Sinclair’s best-selling ZX Spectrum home computer, whose appearance in 1982, with its rubber keys, was thought to be as adorably eccentric as the man himself . But with this he revolutionized the market, educated the British public about the importance of computing and practically created the gaming industry from scratch. It would originally be called “Rainbow” in homage to its innovative color graphics; Sinclair, on the other hand, insisted on “Spectrum”, since it sounded more scientific.
Interestingly, the film shows that Sinclair’s talent for the home computing market arose from his beginnings in mail order and assembly kits for things like mini transistor radios aimed at “hobbyists” – that fascinatingly old-fashioned word. His first home computers were available in kit form and, until the end of his days, he was more interested in hardware than software; Perhaps this intensely serious man was never entirely sympathetic to the gaming culture that propelled his product around the world.
The ZX Spectrum was many things, but above all it was affordable, and the film astutely says that at just under £100, it found the price of “main Christmas present” for legions of teenagers (and they were mainly boys) who were crazy about it. excitement to find one under the Christmas tree. There’s a fun contribution from host James O’Brien, who holds a Spectrum in his hands, closes his eyes and, with the help of this Proustian madeleine, mentally reconstructs every detail of his teenage bedroom.
When Sinclair is on screen, his human drama carries the film with interest, but I have to say that the long middle section of the film, simply about all the different games with their blocky 2D graphics, is a challenge for the uninitiated. But it’s always interesting to see a film delve into this level of detail, and there’s a great awareness of the kind of art and design work that, without games, would never have found an outlet.
In the end, Sinclair ruthlessly decided not to sell to its American distributor Timex and instead partnered with Alan Sugar’s Amstrad, which meant laying off much of its loyal workforce; and, well, if these newly unemployed people were looking for Sinclair’s sympathy, they would be disappointed. And I would have liked to see Lord Sugar interviewed here about Sinclair. This is an interesting documentary, although for heads, as they say.