Tennis means the world to Tashi Donaldson, née Duncan (Zendaya), a former tennis prodigy who became a coach and manager for her husband, Art Donaldson (Mike Faist). Luca Guadagnino‘s Challengers ensures this sentiment is communicated enough throughout the film. There’s a sequence midway into the plot where Patrick Zweig (Josh O’Connor), Tashi’s ex and Art’s former best friend turned rival, confronts her after a make-out session gone south. He curiously asks, “Are we talking about tennis?” amid a heated argument. To which she sarcastically replies, “I’m always talking about tennis.” In truth, they’ve been arguing about their waning relationship as Patrick complained that she sees herself as a coach, not a peer. However, Tashi’s defense has a drop of truth; she lives through that credo.
Challengers frames this riveting drama within a low-tier Challenger event match in New Rochelle, NY. While it might seem like a typical tennis match, it has always been much more than that. There are two former best friends, the woman that came between them, their ego, and their past relationship, all getting thrown into the mix for a highly kinetic and bizarrely horny matchup. It’s like fulfilling Tashi’s view about the sport — saying it’s like a relationship where opponents get into the rhythm together.
Guadagnino has a penchant for capturing intimate and personal moments with a close-up approach. Sometimes, he gets too close to letting the characters listen to their body and humanity’s most primordial necessities. Call Me By Your Name sees vulnerability through carnal curiosity; Suspiria is downright visceral, talking about women’s bodies and maternal instinct; meanwhile, Bones and All screams uncontrollable addiction through cannibalism. Each of those films is visceral and sensual, with bodily fluids becoming one thing they have in common regardless of the subject matter.
Challengers belongs to the very same coven, too. The narrative can get that up and personal, channeling sexual tension through the world of tennis. It’s like that “sure, sex is good” meme, but have you seen a tennis match that sounds, looks, and feels as amazingly as sex?
A Song of Ice and Fire
Justin Kuritzkes‘s script is ready to passionately serve for this chaotic turnarounds. The narrative volleys back and forth between timelines, encompassing the characters’ relationship from their teenage years to adulthood. Challengers actively puts time stamps to indicate which timelines it’s getting through. After a while, it can get a little overwhelming as the narrative keeps changing the reference point (e.g., “12 years ago” from the present, but then “3 years later” from the past events); but, like watching a tennis game, we’ll get used to it. The nonlinear really matters in unraveling characters’ dynamics, but what matters most, in the end, is the point they score.
The main reference point is the Challenger event. Art has been a successful tennis player, virtually winning everything, thanks to Tashi’s dedication and unending ambition. However, he’s been in constant struggle recently after recovering from an injury and having his spark dimmed. On the contrary, Patrick has the best days behind him; he’s become a failing player who lives in his car and constantly cashes out prize money to barely make ends meet. Tashi has put his tennis career behind him after suffering a catastrophic injury. The rivalry feels bitter and reeks of animosity on every corner of the court. But it has initially been different.
At the start of their careers, Art and Patrick are inseparable; they’re like each other’s ride-or-die, even significant others to some extent. Their chemistry goes beyond the court. In double matches, they’re lethal; playing separately, they’re simply unplayable. The media dubbed them the Ice and Fire for their contrasting playstyles, but their connection is inextricable off-field. They could’ve been lovers for all they know.
Then, Tashi happened. After a wild night exchanging body heat, they compete to get the girl’s number. Before long, their competition had grown beyond winning Tashi’s attention. “I’m no homewrecker,” Tashi told them playfully, but in hindsight, that sounds like a self-fulfilling prophecy.
On paper, it’s a pretty straightforward love triangle drama — the one that belongs to the camp. Two brothers, bound not by blood but by tennis, chase the same girl at the cost of their friendship. However, Kuritzkes‘ story knows better than playing an orthodox game. Guadagnino‘s direction adds to this game plan. The camera will often see through each player as they glance at the courtside, looking for Tashi’s approval. The former tennis prodigy, however, barely fixates her vision on any of them; she often attentively observes from left to right, just like in any tennis game. Any time the tension rises, the film will revisit a moment that changes the course of their history.
This leads to my main take on Challengers. This is beyond the convention of love-triangle drama, which normally leaves out one party in the back seat. It, instead, goes in the same direction as Alfonso Cuarón‘s Y Tu Mamá También. It’s a three-way love triangle, with each party member having their fair share of shame, gullibility, and moments.
Why Does Love Mean Nothing?
Every tennis game starts with love all—meaning that both sides have zero points, basically nothing. This sentiment translates seamlessly into the plot despite being a love triangle story. After all, the whole incarceration has nothing to do with love. It had and has always been about tennis — a sentiment that Tashi has always kept at the back of her mind. But has it always been like that?
From what transpires on screen, passion (read: libido) has always found a way to drive the narrative forward. Guadagnino loves to get full-flirtatious mode to unlock this layer of the story — making a film about tennis that also feels not a film about tennis. Every time the ball hits the racquet, it feels like a slap; every time the ball goes back and forth the court, it feels like a bodily thrust; every grunt sounds like a passionate moan; every squeak on the court sounds like the bed creaking; every gesture between the character feels like an internal innuendo. In doing so, Challengers brings sexual tension to the court, and, once again, the dance of bodily fluid is something that the director is proficient in when he gets up and personal with the characters.
Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross‘ synth-heavy score is a perfect cue to get up and personal with the characters — signifying rising temperatures outside and inside their bodies. Meanwhile, the camera work by Sayombhu Mukdeeprom (whose work in Suspiria translates perfectly into this film) has a seductive gaze that often finds a way to tease audiences with pictures that feel yearning and sexy at the same time. At some point close to the final set, as the tension between Art and Patrick rises, the camera shifts to first-person perspective — highlighting the ball’s speed and the other player’s movement across the screen. This creates an illusion of sensory overload and the sense of anticipation that gets me into two places at the same time — the tennis court and the carnal space full of sexual tension between three intertwining characters.
The way the sequence plays out reminds me of where Patrick analyzes Art’s game in one scene, claiming Art has been playing percentage tennis. “Wating for me to fuck up,” he accuses. That sentence alone works on the tennis discussion but goes beyond that. That’s exactly what Patrick’s suspicious of what Art’s trying to do with his love relationship. Yet, it can go even further without having to make do. It can refer to the denial the BFFs have been mutually harboring; they refuse to believe that their connection can be and will be beyond tennis, beyond friendship. The final set sees through this presumption with playful camera work and adept direction that truly transports the audience to the realm beyond the screen. It’s the horny cinema at its best.
The screen is flooded with thrill and euphoria — waiting for the climax to finally arrive. And when it comes, we forget what’s at stake, what could have gone wrong, and practically everything. Guadagnino ushers us into that if-you-know-you-know moment that feels wild, romantic, pure, and ecstatic. It’s sex, for god’s sake.
Verdict: Challengers brings sexual tension to the tennis court — serving for its passionate & competitive three-way love triangle with electric performance and mischievous direction that keeps seducing us to think otherwise.
Leave a Reply