Challengers

Tashi Duncan doesn’t see tennis as a series of won matches. For her, a relationship develops on the court: two people understand each other perfectly for a few rallies because every shot demands a response. Challengers takes this idea very seriously. In Luca Guadagnino’s film, tennis becomes a language for three people who have been talking to each other for years without explicitly stating their true intentions.

Tashi (Zendaya) was herself an exceptionally ambitious player. Now she coaches her husband, Art Donaldson (Mike Faist), whose career has brought great success but has reached a point where a sense of certainty and security is fading. To regain his rhythm, Art enters a smaller Challenger tournament. There, Patrick Zweig (Josh O’Connor) is waiting. Patrick knows them both.

The film flashes back to a time when Art and Patrick were still close friends and doubles partners, and Tashi met them for the first time. Rivalry arises immediately—not just over her, but also over who comes across as more interesting, self-assured, and talented in her eyes. Tashi observes this with a mixture of amusement and control. She hardly needs to stir up the rivalry. She just has to show the two of them that she’s noticed them.

Zendaya doesn’t portray Tashi as a prize to be fought over by two men. She’s the person who views tennis with the least compromise and treats relationships with a similar intensity. Talent fascinates her. Ambition, too. Contentment, far less so. When Art doubts himself or Patrick squanders his opportunities, it’s never just about whether someone wins a match for her.

Art and Patrick could hardly handle it any differently. Art comes across as controlled, polite, almost cautious. Patrick wears his self-confidence more aggressively on his sleeve, sometimes even when his circumstances no longer warrant it. Between them lies a familiarity that makes the competition interesting in the first place. They know how the other plays. They also know where the other is vulnerable.

Guadagnino doesn’t tell this story chronologically. A glance, a remark, or a score can take us back years and suddenly imbue a scene with information that was previously missing. The past and present comment on one another. What initially looks like athletic rivalry takes on a personal backstory; a seemingly casual gesture can have a completely different effect later on. The film demands attention without turning its time jumps into a mystery.

Added to this is a rhythm that leaves little room for respite. Conversations can feel like rallies: a sentence, a reaction, a small attack, a dodge. Characters test each other, wait for weaknesses, and try to figure out how far they can go. Even scenes far from the court retain a competitive edge.

Sexuality works in a similar way. Challengers treats desire not as the opposite of athletic ambition, but as another form of it. Who wants whom? Who is desired? Who sets the terms? The answers remain fluid. Within a matter of seconds, closeness can come across as affection, a power struggle, or a provocation.

The film avoids establishing a simple hierarchy. Tashi manipulates. Patrick provokes. Art may seem more passive than he actually is. No one maintains permanent control over this dynamic. As soon as one of them thinks the roles have been settled, a single remark or glance is enough to start the game all over again.

On the court, at least there are lines to indicate when a ball is out of bounds. Between Tashi, Art, and Patrick, even this guidance is missing.