A film in the vein of Rush, with two antagonistic and, in terms of character, contrasting athletes, John McEnroe and Björn Borg. Shia laBeouf and Sverrir Gudnason are both excellent, with a similar hardened, explosive intensity – the difference being that Gudnason’s Borg seems to explode at some almost undetectable depth of the soul, his impassive Pewdiepie-esque face only occasionally and very faintly registering some kind of internal panic or fury. LaBeouf’s McEnroe is a small, nervous ball of anger (McEnroe is noticeably taller in real life, apparently the same height as Borg – 180 cm). They’re both oddly charismatic.

I especially enjoyed, as in Rush, the post-match accidental meeting of the two men (Borg won). They’re waiting in the airport, Borg spots McEnroe from afar and looks uncertain if he should say anything,

McEnroe however sees him

and immediately walks over, so Borg comes out to meet him

and they have a typically masculine conversation:

McEnroe: Congratulations.

Borg: Thank you.

McEnroe: Yeah. Good match.

Borg: Thought you had me.

McEnroe: Almost, yeah.

There is a taciturn ease here. Borg’s girlfriend is in the background, looking unsure as the men chat and then exchange a hug (in real life, they apparently became good friends after the match).

I enjoyed this film, and Rush, because they demonstrate a feature of male relationships – competition and friendship. In the West, competition is often seen as somehow shameful, because someone has to lose. I knew a homosexual Boomer once who used the word “competition” as synonymous with “aggression” and hated all sports because there are winners and losers. An ex-professor at my university, he said that all students should automatically get a 2:1 just for turning up, and if you want to do the exam you then get a 1st, automatically. It’s very modern thinking and would have struck pretty much every human being who has ever lived as evidently childish, impractical, almost insane thinking.

It’s also a very female view of things. It’s not that women aren’t naturally competitive – they clearly are; but whereas for men competition is a means of establishing the (fluid) hierarchy and getting to know the capabilities and weaknesses of your fellows in order to have an ease and friendliness together, for women it’s more about crushing potential foes. For women, competition is aggression and violence. For men, competition is a modulation of friendship – every competitor is a potential friend, because you get to know people through a certain rough play and jostling, and once you know someone you can be friends.

Thus, women often remark on how aggressive men are, not understanding that it’s not really aggression with the intent of destroying or damaging the adversary; it’s more a testing of boundaries, and what women often mistake for abuse is merely a friendly jest.

Women are inherently averse to risk – there is probably a link between testosterone and the adrenaline release of risk-taking. Thus, women are only confrontational and competitive when they are sure they will win. Women do not understand the concept of the heroic defeat (Thermopylae, The Battle of Maldon, etc.) because a woman would only fight if she was absolutely assured of victory to begin with – and then she would be relentless and vicious. A man would fight to preserve his standing, his sense of himself as a man capable of projecting force in a world of forces & wills – and a man would be more likely to accept a defeated foe’s surrender with good grace. A women would execute or at least enslave the white-flag-waving enemy, because for a woman the whole point of competition is to subjugate and destroy.

As is often the way, fear leads to misprision and violence; strength makes for understanding and peace.