CHALLENGERS IS RUINING ME!!!
I saw 'Challengers' again yesterday and I can't stop thinking about it - and what that ending means.
When the trailer for Challengers came out, I was lukewarm on it at best. Of course, I knew this movie was going to be for me (where’s my more sex/eroticism in movies hive?!) but it wasn’t earmarked as one of my most anticipated of the year or anything like that. Not at all. And then I saw the movie. And I realized that I had been woefully rude to Challengers, not giving it the respect it deserved. I wonder if going into it with relatively low expectations plays a part in this obsession with the film (I just know that you, and I, have gone into certain movies expecting the world only waltz out of the theatrical cavern we consume it in with a disappointed taste in our mouths because we expected more) or if I’m just buying into the hype machine. Whatever the case, I can’t stop thinking about Challengers. More specifically, I can’t quite get the final minutes of the film to stop replaying on a loop in the deep recesses of my mind. Here’s why.
This isn’t going to be my deep, analytic breakdown of the entire film. That would consist of probably north of 10,000 words and take me days to pen (again - keyboard? I’ll need to decide on what to say one of these days) down. It’s not that I couldn’t do it. Because I could. I scarcely have the time is all. I hijacked my A24 podcast for like 6 minutes to talk about my feelings on Challengers with my co-host but it was a truly pitiful amount of time to talk about it. So - here I am - buying myself a bit more space to fully enunciate and articulate the racing thoughts I have on the movie.
*Spoilers for ‘Challengers’*
Of course, the entire film is something that reveals itself more with each recharged match against it. Seeing it for a second time made me realize that Challengers is a bubbly, brewing, nuance pot of love and tennis and power stew - changing, evolving, growing with each spoonful you consume. Luca Guadagnino quite literally makes it so, placing not only the eroticism of food at the core of our characters of Art, Patrick , and Tashi, but the meaning of the food they devour. And boy, do they devour. Patrick and his coke bottle at Tashi’s party - constantly biting the round, smooth open lip, hovering it around his mouth, running his fingers along the outskirts of the glass. Art selfishly swallowing his energy gel during his tennis match. And guzzling his nutrition shakes as the day beckons for his full commitment. Tashi sipping on her tall can of Budweiser or nursing her tea at the hotel bar. And let’s not forget the churros - duh! All signifiers of a deeper character revelation for each of them, a status symbol of how they approach not just tennis but the mental match with each other, constantly vying for the upper hand - the points that matter, as Art puts it.
But as I stated, there is just something about the final sequences that resonates with me on such a strange, signifying level. From the moment that Art admits to Tashi that he will be retiring at the end of the year, regardless of the outcome of his challenger match or the US Open or any other competitions he throws himself into, he is going to toss in the towel. Tashi, in perhaps her moment of most vicious truth, plainly tells Art that she will divorce him if he does so. What proceeds, directly and double-digit minutes later, is a declaration of Luca’s directing abilities, Justin Kuritzkes’ empowered writing talents, and the power surrounding the relationship of our characters. Art meets Tashi on their bed. Kissing. Cuddling. Holding one another. He eventually lays his head on her lap, craving authenticity. Craving companionship. Craving a win. He asks her to hold him until he falls asleep. He even peeps out a quiet “please” at the end of his request. A side of Art, and of Tashi, who responds with a simple “Okay", that we haven’t seen up until this moment. A couple, in constant battle for control and power over getting what they want, thwarted to exhaustion. Caught in a scandalous moment of true partnership.
Another moment I just cannot escape towards the end of the film is when Tashi comes back to her hotel room after sleeping with Patrick in his car, proposing he throw the match against Art to ensure his confidence finds its footing once again. Of course, there are a million things to break down about that scene that I skipped over (like I said, north of 10,000 words), but what is the most crucial in my mind is what she finds upon her return. Art, a defeated man in life and love, sleeping next to their daughter in her room, the night before a “could-not-be-more-important” challenger match. The duality of man. The duality of masculinity. And the sour, soulless decisions that Tashi keeps making when being stared at with compassion and empathy. This movie is Tashi’s movie. It’s her journey. It’s her tennis match. It’s her addiction to the game that, no matter the sustenance provided, cannot be quelled.
Okay. The final frames. Like I mentioned. PATRICK GIVES ART THE SERVE SIGN AND IT’S ALL MADNESS FROM THERE. The two eventually find themselves in a dual of the fates of sorts - enclosing on one another’s playing space, personal space, and mental space through the soft volleys being tossed between each. Tashi is engaged like never before. The elation and euphoria of climax is in sight. But here is where I can’t stop battling myself. In sight for who? Well, of course for Tashi, as she watches her little white boys ping back and forth, culminating in a physical embrace over the net and a physical exaltation of “come on” from her. It feels as though she expresses it through relief, knowing both Art and Patrick are once again “playing” at the highest level, vying for her to be the magnetic, central force in their lives. It makes her feel like a teenager again. Someone who can so easily maneuver these boys into playing for her number. I also believe there is a point to her expression that comes from ultimate loss. Her boys can now survive past her, without her. They have been awoken in a much more heady sense, shaken loose from the impaling grips of Tashi.
But Art and Patrick. Each time I watched it I left with a different understanding of what this physical embrace meant for them. What this moment of climax allowed both of them. Initially, I thought it was out of anger. Out of competition. Eternally, and consistently, beyond the credits of the film, fighting for Tashi as they have for the past 13 years. Yet upon second watch I viewed it as the complete opposite - a moment of victory for both. They’ve found each other once again, with Tashi just being a magnet drawing them together, apart, and finally together again. Their own relationship and love story is so fascinating and the more I think about the film, the more I think it is a pseudo Art/Patrick love story, not Tashi’s story. But then I go back the other way, knowing it all hinges on Tashi. The brilliance of Challengers.
A movie that keeps on giving. A movie that introduces you to the most intimate of relationships and foreplay and refuses to let you finish, edging you until you just can’t withstand the pressure any longer. A movie with sweaty, hot, sexy people being assholes, scumbags, and winners and losers. A movie that won’t escape my mind. A movie that deserves 10,000 words or more… someday.