Review: Challengers, dir. Luca Guadagnino
Disclaimer: This review is spoiler-free.
In an entirely expectable turn of events, the director behind Call Me By Your Name (in which Timothée Chalamet does unspeakable things to a peach), Suspiria (in which Tilda Swinton does unspeakable things to her students), and Bones and All (in which Taylor Russell does unspeakable things to Timothée Chalamet) has directed the horniest American film since Tom Cruise stumbled upon the most pedantic orgy in the history of humanity, replete with geriatrics stepped halfway into the grave. Luca Guadagnino, though, is less interested in the theological connotations of sexual fantasies and moreso with just depicting the fantasy.
It’s truly an astonishing cinematic feat that despite the buckets of sweat and palpable eroticism pouring off the glistening skin of its trio of stars, Guadagnino never shows anything that would edge this film past an R-rating. There are some gratuitous appendages seen in a locker room, but our protagonists never take off more than what would get them a slap on the wrist from the censor board. It is somewhat ironic that ultra-violent events in movies such as Taken, Jaws, and The Dark Knight were not enough to warrant an R-rating but the concept of consensual sex has boggled the minds of the MPAA for a near century.
Justin Kuritzkes’ brilliant script demanded no less than the considerable talent of Guadagnino, who despite being in his fifties remains one of the most grounded directors for millennial-era cinema. The film is as whipsmart as the hundred-mile-an-hour serves volleyed by the professionals at the heart of it. Their thirst for competition alternates with their insatiable desire for each other as matches and lunch dates alike become fodder for releasing tension, sexual or otherwise. Tennis isn’t the destination of Challengers: it’s merely the vehicle. The movie portrays the sport with the same eye for historical detail that Mel Gibson achieved with Braveheart (read: none), but the actors nonetheless get into shape to drum up believability. Josh O’Connor’s burly forearms, Mike Faist’s glistening abs, and Zendaya’s smooth legs are all but ogled at as the audience is implicated in our fascination with the raw desire being splashed across the screen.
Ostensibly, Challengers is a sports film. It merely eschews the trappings of the genre, which is abundant with mediocre pictures over-exaggerating events in an attempt to wrench emotion of its viewers, in a similar way to The Hustler and Raging Bull did so many decades ago. Both those movies used the inherent competitiveness of high-stakes athletic events to draw attention to the true nature of their protagonists. Both Fast Eddie and Jake LaMotta find themselves drawn to sports because it allows them to amplify their worst tendencies to win glory. When their athletic outlet disappears and they attempt to reintegrate into the real world, they don’t succeed.
Challengers deviates from those entries by focusing on relationships instead of a single character. Zendaya’s teen phenom Tashi Duncan is the Serena Williams of her generation, a universally-recognized prodigy on a meteoric rise to superstardom. Opposite her are the so-called “Fire and Ice” duo of US tennis: Patrick Zweig, Josh O’Connor at his most devilishly ravenous; and Art Donaldson, played by Mike Faist with a calculating smile and lean wolfishness. Guess who’s who based on their names. Tashi surely figured it out long before they tripped over each other to introduce themselves to her on the eve of the US Boys Juniors, but that doesn’t stop her from asking — nor does it assist them in answering. They all know, and they all know they all know.
Art and Patrick are unambitious, privileged prep-school slackers with some inherent talent, but are largely unconcerned with the direction of their lives. Tashi has built herself up from nothing and seems incredulous of the boys’ lack of motivation at the highest level of the sport, encapsulated in a single look she shoots at Patrick when he suggests smoking out by the beach. “Are you kidding me?” is the tone of the look but “Sure!” is what comes out of her mouth, and Patrick will take what he can get. His goal is simple: sex. Tonight. The fact that he has a girlfriend doesn’t deter him. His 100% genuineness is his only endearing characteristic; for the most part, he’s an unredeemable dick. Still, that raw appetite for chaos is what draws Art to him — and eventually, Tashi as well.
When she unexpectedly shows up at their hotel room, she introduces herself with the intent that she does not intend to be a homewrecker. She’s visibly surprised when Art reassures her there’s nothing between them. Patrick questions it, but the truth is, he’ll have intercourse with anything on two legs. Still, Tashi has very little trouble convincing them to engage in a threesome…until she pulls back and watches, self-satisfied, as the boys make out with each other. The tone is set for the rest of the movie now: the suitors will do whatever they can to earn Tashi’s attention, but she’s really more interested in having them play with (or against) each other.
The relationship of the trio is in constant flux. The script plays off their volatility, choosing a nonlinear format where we whiz back and forth between different years as the scrappy youngsters grow into battle-hardened adults. The seemingly inseparable bond between Art and Patrick begins to unravel with Tashi as their focal point. Patrick sees Tashi as a peer even as she admonishes his lack of work ethic and offers to coach him, much to his chagrin. On the other hand, Art worships Tashi from the minute he meets her and makes that clear. When he tells her he loves her, she pauses for a moment before responding, “I know.” It’s just one of Kuritzkes’ many magnificent one-liners, a bombshell that lays their whole relationship bare so quickly that Guadagnino relishes in holding that frame an extra few seconds just so you have time to stomach it.
Every contributor to this project works at their top level. Oscar winners Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross deliver what may be their best score to date, a groovy club pulse that is the height of swagger. Sayombhu Mukdeeprom is most well-known for his collaborations with Apichatpong Weerasethakul, but after Challengers he’ll be in-demand for filmmakers around the world. His command over the camera is masterful, drawing attention to all the right details in high-complexity environments. He expertly captures the intensity of natural light burning down on a tennis court, but his staging in indoor environments and darkened corridors is no less astute. In a particularly riveting sequence, and what is certain to be his calling card when Oscars campaigning begins, his camera follows the path of a ball mid-serve before switching to the racket POV, then dollying up to a birds-eye view, and finally sinking beneath the floor as we watch the intricate footwork between competitors.
It’s not just Mukdeeprom, but the input from every collaborator which reaches its crescendo in Challengers’ final act as the derelict courts of New Rochelle become a veritable colosseum for the sporting equivalent of the Battle of Helm’s Deep. Guadagnino pulls no punches as he unleashes one of the most cinematically satisfying climaxes in 21st century cinema. It manages to be both the wettest sequence caught on film since the 2020 Olympics’ 1500-meter freestyle swimming event, whilst being paired with enough slow-motion to make Zack Snyder rage with jealousy. There are so many unique stylistic choices taken, it feels like it shouldn’t work. But it does. The depiction of the final match point is cinematic perfection.
Much of what the finale achieves speaks to the emotional investment the three character actors are able to draw in. O’Connor has the showiest role as Patrick. He unabashedly loves his life, even as he acknowledges his antagonism, and that infectiousness bleeds through against Art’s pragmatism and Tashi’s scheming. Faist has to play more straitlaced but no less underhanded; Art is merely more subtle. When he encounters Patrick for the first time in years, now standing as the world-feted athlete while his former compatriot slums it out in low-level opens, he spits out one of the most poisonous bars of the year: “You live here. I’m just passing through.” Zendaya surprisingly pales against the force of her co-stars. Tashi can be both fire and ice, but her passion never burns as hot as Patrick’s nor do her schemes run as snakelike as Art’s. Kuritzkes possibly constructed her to stand on neutral ground, but it may be tough for Zendaya to mount a Best Actress campaign when the film advertised as her vehicle often feels like it’s stolen out from under her.
Ultimately, there’s no denying that Challengers will be one of the most outright pleasing movies of the year. Kuritzkes and Guadagnino have done something truly remarkable here. They’ve made a mid-budget, star-driven, original film that does not compromise on artistic vision while remaining entirely palatable to mainstream entertainment consumers. It sounds simple enough, but few filmmakers have been able to weigh the best of both worlds and succeed. Christopher Nolan’s Oppenheimer comes to mind as a recent example, while Denis Villeneuve’s Dune: Part Two failed. That is what rarefied territory we, the viewers, find ourselves in. Take my recommendation: watch this on the biggest screen possible, buy popcorn, sit back, and enjoy the show.
Score: ★★★★½ / ★★★★★
