SPOILER ALERT: IF YOU HAVEN’T SEEN “CHALLENGERS” (YET?! REALLY?!)… YOU PROBABLY SHOULDN’T READ THIS ARTICLE. OR YES?
In a parallel universe, Luca Guadagnino comes from Milan. In the parallel universe of my fellow cinema-goers, everything is still up for discovery: Luca is from Milan and Zendaya is an unknown actress. Challengers, apparently, is a bit boring, a bit plotless. And there I was, thinking that no one else would show up for the 7 o’clock original language screening…
After all, parallel lines are the ones that never meet, and me and my fellow companions didn’t strictly speak. In my universe, though, Challengers has way more than just one storyline: it’s a recursive movie. That is, filled with calculated ambiguities that leave room for multiple interpretations. A different movie each time you watch it. And a realist one, too. It tells the inevitable falling-in-love of two good-looking lads with Zendaya. (I feel you, boys). Realist, as I was saying: they simply can’t help it. Just like the rest of us.
A movie about competition. About those who can’t exist outside of it. And maybe that’s what makes it so compelling. People rarely ask me why I founded Remida, or why I do what I do.
The truth is, I simply couldn’t do otherwise.
The playground becomes a sheet of glass. The director shows us the players from their shoesoles on. He shows us how much they tear themselves apart to climb higher, to reach the sky. And sometimes, so much tearing becomes breaking. And that’s what happened to her.
But the competitiveness stays. And so it must be channelled: somewhere else. Anywhere else. Sometimes into complete silence. Sometimes into screaming motion. Sometimes into held breath. Sometimes into club music. Certain scenes, from certain films, stay with us forever. Like the laser-field dance of Vincent Cassel in Ocean’s Twelve. Where you see the training, and the mastery it becomes. You see someone’s extraordinary skill: so refined, so deeply absorbed, it becomes a dance.
Sometimes, we only see the dance, the performance, and forget what came before. Zendaya says it too, in the movie: when the effort disappears, the performance becomes a relationship. You no longer see the technique. You no longer see the strain. And suddenly, it feels like flying. To you, and to whoever’s watching.
In the end, like Vincent Cassel, you leap to the final step. Sweaty. You stagger for a moment.
And you’re there. You’ve made it. And what is left to do, then? Nothing. You don’t even celebrate: cheering would be to admit that luck played a part. You smile, quietly, to mock fate a little bit. And then you move on.
This movie doesn’t end. She just stands up. And then, the lights come back on. In a parallel universe… Parallel universes are just other people’s minds. To create a collision, write to lisa@remidastudio.com .
