Challengers

In cinemas now

Luca Guadagnino’s Challengers is perhaps best described as a Marmite film. For example, my partner was most definitely not a fan, as she felt the film lacked heart and any purpose beyond being an excuse to get its three hot co-leads together for an excessively sweaty, tennis-themed romp. I, on the other hand, enjoyed it for precisely that reason, believing it to be firmly in keeping with Guadagnino’s slightly absurd brand of uber eroticism. 

The funny thing is that, when we debated the film’s merits on our drive home, neither of us could really disagree with the other’s observations. I certainly echoed the sentiment that Justin Kuritzkes’ screenplay is a mostly shallow and nonsensical piece of work, one that only ever alludes to the underlying themes that provides its characters’ motivation for their frequently self-destructive actions.

However, it’s easier to overlook this shortcoming when you’re watching a film that is as aesthetically distinctive as Challengers. Whether it’s Guadagnino and Sayombhu Mukdeeprom eliciting memories of the flagrant and persistent titillation of Call Me by Your Name, Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross’ pulsating score, or Jonathan Anderson’s chic costume designs, this is an undeniably alluring film, even if only a superficial level. 

On top of that, the lead performances of Josh O’Connor (who is still enjoying the meteoric rise that began with his fine performance in The Crown), Mike Faist, and, in particular, Zendaya ensure this remains an absorbing affair throughout. This certainly feels like a crowning moment for the latter, who assumes the position of femme fatale effortlessly, demonstrating that she has the sort of range that is befitting of a generational star. 

While Guadagnino remains a polarising filmmaker, it’s hard to deny that his specific brand of cinema incites debate, which is never a bad thing.