Four stars. Rated PG-13, for sexual content and brief nudity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 9.29.17
An estimated 90 million people
around the world parked in front of TV sets on Sept. 20, 1973, in order to
watch what became a defining moment in sports, American culture and — most
particularly — the rising momentum for women’s equality.
When she agrees to the challenge issued by Bobby Riggs (Steve Carell), Billy Jean King (Emma Stone) also gamely endures the media circus that precedes the historic event. |
At the same time, the so-called
“Battle of the Sexes” was pure circus.
On top of which, one of the
participants was struggling with sexual identity, at a time when such matters
scarcely were tolerated in this country, let alone allowed to go public.
That’s a lot of baggage for a
single two-hour film to handle, and its success is a tribute to pedigree:
Co-directors Jonathan Dayton and Valerie Faris (Little Miss Sunshine, Ruby Sparks), along with Academy Award-winning scripter Simon Beaufoy (Slumdog Millionaire), have concocted a
thoughtful, perceptive and thoroughly entertaining dramedy that blends tender
romance, historical context and an undercurrent of sly outrage over the degree
of unapologetic chauvinism that was fashionable a mere four decades ago.
Add two stars who skillfully
adopt the identities of their real-world counterparts — to a frequently spooky
degree — and the result is quite engaging.
The story begins in 1971, as
Billie Jean King (Emma Stone) and good friend Gladys Heldman (Sarah Silverman)
— a hard-nosed PR and tennis maven — confront longtime tennis promoter Jack
Kramer (Bill Pullman) over the insulting disparity between the financial prizes
earned by male and female champions. Kramer holds firm with the prevailing view
that women aren’t “worth” parity.
In response, King and Heldman —
with considerable assistance from King’s husband, Larry (Austin Stowell) — form
their own nascent women’s league (which, within a few years, would become the
Women’s Tennis Association). It’s a gutsy move, since Kramer immediately expels
them from the U.S. Lawn Tennis Association. The players — which include King,
Margaret Court (Jessica McNamee), Rosie Casals (Natalie Morales) and half a
dozen others — nonetheless adopt a spunky guerrilla spirit, booking their own
venues, posting promotional banners, and selling their own tickets.
Matters improve when the group
receives full sponsorship from Philip Morris, for what becomes known as the
Virginia Slims Tour.
Meanwhile, Bobby Riggs (Steve
Carell), decades removed from his professional championships in the 1940s,
frets over his own obsolescence. He chafes behind a useless desk job, supported
by a wealthy wife, Priscilla (Elisabeth Shue), who is losing her tolerance for
his chronic gambling habit. But as a longtime hustler and media-savvy
opportunist, Riggs smells publicity after learning what King and her cohorts
are up to.
And so comes the challenge, from
the man who proudly promises to keep the “show” in chauvinism.
Mainstream viewers — as opposed
to rabid sports fans — may have forgotten that Court was the first woman to
accept Riggs’ dare. She was the logical opponent; as of mid-1973, she was the
world’s top female player.
This film suggests that Court
took that prized slot because King’s head wasn’t in the game at the moment,
having been distracted by her love-at-first-sight relationship with hairdresser
Marilyn Barnett (Andrea Riseborough), first encountered when the entire women’s
team gets makeovers prior to a media event.
This developing affair moves the
film in a fresh direction that gives Stone ample opportunity to display the
depth of her impressive acting chops, in many cases via her conflicted
expressions. Beaufoy repeatedly affirms that Billy Jean loves and respects her
husband; they’re friends as well as spouses and business partners. More
crucially, she knows full well that athletic skill is 99 percent focus, and
that this ... whatever it is, with Marilyn ... is diluting that concentration.
Not to mention her awareness that
the entire future of the nascent women’s tennis movement depends, in great
part, on her ability to deliver on the court.
All that said, there’s no denying
the sweetness of the blossoming affair, and the delicacy with which the scenes
between Stone and Riseborough are handled. The collateral damage to Larry King
— and Stowell handles his role with equal sensitivity — is heartbreaking.
And yet the frequent bedroom
scenes between Billy Jean and Marilyn become distracting, pulling focus from
the film as a whole. There comes a point when our sympathy slides away from
Marilyn, and she begins to look and sound selfish. We want her to do the right
thing, which — even if only temporarily — mandates that she remove herself from
these events.
Given the similar skill with
which Carell plays Riggs, it also would have been nice to spend a bit more time
with him during the ramp-up to his infamous challenge. For openers, a bit of
back-story on the sudden introduction of Riggs’ young adult son, Larry (Lewis
Pullman), would have been handy. The lad springs out of nowhere; he also
remains under-developed.
Carell has a great time with the
role, embracing the persona of unrepentant hustler and unapologetic media jester.
Riggs’ outlandish publicity stunts were audacious at the time, and still
eyebrow-lifting when re-created here. But this film also implies that it all
was an act: that Riggs shrewdly adopted the guise of über-chauvinist because it
ginned up hype and fat financial sponsorships. Carell plays the role that way;
we see the twinkle in his eyes.
But he’s not a one-dimensional
burlesque. Carell’s Riggs is the ultimate narcissist: fueled by a desperation
to prove that he can master the world on his own terms, an abject terror that
he’ll fail, and a defiant refusal to follow convention. Despite such qualities,
he’s also capable of humble grace; watch Carell’s expression and body language,
during Riggs’ poignant, third-act scene with his wife.
Alan Cumming stands tall among
the co-stars, in his fascinating portrayal of Cuthbert Collingwood “Ted”
Tinling, the daring fashion designer who forged modern sports looks, and
introduced bold, bright colors to the outfits worn by the Virginia Slims
players. Tinling also is gay and not entirely closeted, and thus becomes Billy
Jean’s unlikely confidant.
Cumming gets many of the funniest
one-liners, all delivered with masterful timing; he also shares the film’s most
intimate moment with Stone, right before the film concludes.
Silverman is a hoot as the
chain-smoking, tough-talking Heldman: wickedly quick with a caustic put-down,
and absolutely believable as somebody who could transform the world. Fred
Armisen is subtly creepy as Rheo Blair, a “nutritional guru” who pops up just
prior to the climactic match, putting Riggs on a regimen of 415 vitamins every day.
Pullman is superb as the smarmy,
condescending, and yet oh-so-polite Kramer. Even at her most furious, Billy
Jean acknowledges that Kramer is a gentleman, and it’s true; Pullman makes the
man gracious and well-mannered. But he’s also the villain of this piece, prone
to matter-of-fact displays of breathtaking sexism ... which, sadly, remain just
as relevant today.
Dayton, Faris and Beaufoy are
well aware of this; indeed, their film unfolds pretty much the way events
actually went down, which — in several ways — is just as horrifying to today’s
audiences, as it was to more enlightened individuals almost half a century ago.
The drama notwithstanding, the
film’s most remarkable feat is the jaw-dropping authenticity with which Stone
and Carell are showcased during the climactic tennis footage. The
verisimilitude of their off-court behavior is impressive enough; the manner in
which editor Pamela Martin and special effects supervisor Sam Dean match the
actors to the suspenseful game-playing sequences, is nothing short of amazing.
On top of which, Dayton and Faris
maintain suspense. Even knowing the story’s outcome — as most viewers will — we
still get drawn into edge-of-the-seat uncertainty, and cheer the results.
Battle of the Sexes is crowd-pleasing entertainment,
an acting showcase, an invaluable historical document, and a sly reminder that
fairness and justice often are achieved only through great effort ... and that
such battles must be fought — and won — repeatedly.
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