Great show, and Anna Taylor-Joy is a revelation! :: In 1884, the American star chess player Paul Morphy was found dead in his bathtub, at the age of forty-seven. “The pride and the sorrow of chess is gone forever,” the Austrian chess master Wilhelm Steinitz wrote in an elegy, the following year. Morphy had begun winning citywide tournaments in his native New Orleans at the age of nine. By the time he was twenty, he was the United States champion, and by the time he was twenty-one, many considered him to be the best player on earth. In 1858, Morphy held a notorious “blindfold” exhibition, in Paris, at the Café de la Régence: he sat in one room while eight opponents sat in another and called out his moves without looking at a single board. He played for ten hours straight, without stopping to eat, and ended the night with six wins and two draws. But Morphy grew bored; he was so gifted at chess that he began to consider it a child’s game. He walked away from competition and opened a law office, but the business quickly failed. He spent his final two decades living as a vagabond on family money, growing increasingly paranoid and haunted by his former fame.

The parable of Paul Morphy and his squandered genius pops up halfway through the fifth episode of “The Queen’s Gambit,” Scott Frank and Allan Scott’s handsome, dexterous new Netflix miniseries, based on Walter Tevis’s 1983 novel of the same name, about a female chess prodigy from Lexington, Kentucky, and her pursuit of a world title in the late nineteen-sixties. The prodigy in question, Beth Harmon (Anya Taylor-Joy), is speaking to her friend and sometimes lover Harry Beltik (Harry Melling), a local chess champion with capped teeth and a nebbishy demeanor. Harry, who has been living with Beth to help her train for an upcoming match against the dominant Russian champion, Borgov, in Paris, announces that he will be moving out. He realizes that he has taught Beth all he knows, and that, in turn, she has taught him that his own passion for the game will never compare to hers. As he leaves, he hands her a tattered copy of the book “Paul Morphy and the Golden Age of Chess,” by William Ewart Napier. “You think that’s gonna be me?” Beth sneers, with a diffident jutting of her chin. “I think that is you,” Harry replies.