all about the wordplay

I do not do crossword puzzles, but I am tormented on a daily basis by someone who does.

"You've read Eliot," he'll begin casually, not looking up from his paper.

"A...little," I'll reply. I find it in my best interest to let him think I am more intelligent and erudite than I really am. It's part of my imaginary mystique, and the only way I can get him to let me make major purchasing decisions. Still, I am cautious.

"It was a long time ago," I warn.

"What's an eponymous Eliot title; Dash dash dash M; dash dash D dash?" He says it like that; dash dash dash, which only serves to bewilder me further. Again, I reflect upon my staggering lack of culture.

"Cats!" I trill, confusing T.S. with George, 8 letters with 4, and ignoring M and D completely, as it does not conform to what seems to me to be the fairly obvious solution.

"Cats?!" He shoots me an incredulous look. I can read his mind. Sometimes he is wondering what he ever saw in me, and where I really went all those times I claimed to be on campus earning a degree. Other times he suspects I am holding out on him, the perpetrator of some cruel effort to deprive him of the joy of finishing the Sunday Times crossword puzzle before the golf tournament comes on. This does me a grave disservice. I am not unkind. I am just functionally illiterate.

Still, as my choice of mate would indicate I am drawn to intelligent men with a well-developed sense of humor and a firm knowledge of who they are and what they want out of life. On Thursday I got to spend some time with a few of my favorites.

"Wordplay" is a fresh, funny and fascinating little film featuring self-described enigmatologist Will Shortz and a cast of like-minded puzzle enthusiasts, most of whom bring unabashed nerdiness to dizzying and joyful new heights. Shortz himself, alternately described as "monk-like and remote" or the "thinking-girls' pin-up boy" is decidedly the latter ~ with a wide-open countenance and charmingly amiable manner, he is a man who has found his true vocation and is simply delighted to be able to share his gift with anyone else who cares to play along.

Play along they do, and it is an unadulterated pleasure to hang out with (my personal pin-up boys) Bill Clinton and Jon Stewart, in addition to as varied a crew as (Yankee pitcher) Mike Mussina, the Indigo Girls, Ken Burns and Bob Dole as they demonstrate their crossword-solving prowess and routines. (Bill does his in pen, Jon is so confidant he volunteers to do his in glue stick; Bob Dole claims that the whole election thing was "a puzzle to me.")

We ride along as professional puzzle constructor Merle Reagle drives down the road spontaneously rearranging letters on passing signs ( Dunkin' Donuts becomes Unkind Donuts, and Noah's Ark; No! A shark!) and then watch, rapt, as he builds a puzzle sitting at an empty dining room table with nothing but his pencil, a piece of paper and an impressively agile mind.

The film's heart is to be found in the crossword competition held annually at the Stamford Marriott, Connecticut, where the contestants are invariably brilliant, endearing, consummately competitive and yet thoroughly decent human beings, and it is to their endless credit (as well as that of the filmmakers) that the sight of what appears to be a roomful of brainiacs taking a series of competitive tests becomes an engrossing, even thrilling event.

I won't tell you who wins. But Bill, Jon ~ boys? Make some room on the wall ~ mamma's got a brand new pin-up. Proper name, ten letters meaning 'sexy'.

I'll give you a hint. It's W dash dash l; Dash dash o r t z.