Thoughts on Battle of the Sexes

WARNING! CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR THE FILM BATTLE OF THE SEXES

There was never any question of my going to see this film; I consider myself someone who has proudly fought against "male chauvinist pigs" (my, how antiquated and angry that phrase sounds in the face of so much modern blanding out of feminism!) since the first time I called out sexism at about age 8 (the culprit was my grandfather, blowharding about his prejudice against Woman's Hour). However, what you quickly realise is that the story of tennis legend Billie Jean King beating the crap out of the so-ostentiatious-as-to-be-ridiculous Bobby Riggs in 1973 isn't a straightforward tale of feminist warrior vs sexist warthog.

Riggs isn't actually King's problem for most of the film. He's a tennis has-been and an incorrigible gambler perpetually seeking his next thrill; King is battling to hold on to her status as World Number One as her private life becomes increasingly complicated by the fact she is married to a man but attracted to women. By the time the two actually meet, the worst of the sexism is actually over; King has already had to fight the American Lawn Tennis Association for equal pay for female players, having been told to accept 1/7th of what male players were earning. She threatens to take her talents elsewhere, and the LTA promptly blackball her.

King is told that the men's game is more exciting and draws more crowds, even though she patiently sits across from three old white men and tells them that the women's games have been selling exactly the same amount of tickets. It's clearly not a matter of economics, but these men are trying to weasel out from being accused of contempt for women by playing the old "men are more interesting to watch" card. As part of the roller derby community, a place in which the women's version of the sport came first, this is particularly amusing to watch. If you tried to advance this theory in derby you'd be promptly laughed out of a sports hall. But in the sexist 70s, such ideas held a disgusting amount of traction, and when they're coming from the top of your own sports association, what options do you have left?

So yes, King exhibits massive bravery in telling Jack Kramer, the intransigent head of the LTA, to get fucked when he tries to hold her game to ransom, and doing it far more coolly and politely than most of us would manage. She rallies her fellow big name female tennis players to create their own tournament, knowing it will cost them their LTA association and rankings. Kramer is left looking like a bitter, spiteful misogynist who was so incensed at the idea of female tennis players refusing to kowtow to him that he did everything within his power to torpedo their careers. Riggs, meanwhile, is actually bankrolled by his rich wife and--thanks to Steve Carell's wonderful ability to humanise otherwise cringeworthy characters--comes across as a maverick, a buffoon, a man with too much energy and nowhere for it to go. The sexism he plays up is clearly for the cameras, and is so comical as to be easily dismissed. From early on in the film, there's no question of who really looks a fool--the middle-aged man dressed up as a shepherdess playing tennis as sheep run around him, or the understated, cool-as-a-cucumber King, who plays along to an extent but mostly lets her game do the talking.

The film is by no means perfect; it plays fast and loose with chronology at times, and the cast is pretty white. The need for a sports film about women of color has long been apparent--I couldn't understand why average white failure Eddie the Eagle got a whole film to himself last year when no one has ever bothered making a picture about the majestic Florence Griffith Joyner aka Flo-Jo, the fast women ever. It angers me that after all so much lip service has been paid to progress in terms of whose stories get told in cinemas, audiences are still expected to happily root for a white guy, and are expected to swallow the notion that his struggles truly are "against all odds." Pffafff. What odds would those be, exactly? Odds steeper than those posed by entrenched racism and sexism, which cuts you off at the knees and then tells you you're just not trying hard enough?

It's not only sports movies where this is a massive problem, either; while I loved watching The Theory of Everything, and as a former carer for the disabled am intrigued by the premise of Breathe, I'm still waiting to see a film tell the story of a disabled woman whose husband bravely stays by her side, encourages her to do groundbreaking work, and happily puts his life on hold so she can be the star of the show while his life is merely a supporting act. Can you name me a mainstream movie in which this happens? Because I cannot think of one. A same-gender couple would also be fine with me; the point is, I want to see male characters take the backseat and a woman's stellar trajectory take center stage. Battle of the Sexes is immediately head and shoulders above the glut of hackneyed films simply because it does show this. King is the star here; all other characters are rendered either a supporter or detractor of hers.

Battle of the Sexes is an even-handed, funny, incisive and brilliantly cast take on a story that probably should have been told a lot sooner--after all, Title IX had its 40th anniversary in 2012, and given Billie Jean King's pivotal role in ensuring the legislation was put to proper use by mandating equal pay for athletes regardless of gender, that seems like it would have been the perfect moment to put out this film. Its take on feminism is so mild as to be inoffensive; in one exchange with Riggs, King turns down his offer to join in a media circus, and adds "By the way--I shave my legs!" before putting the phone down on him. Don't worry ladies, is the message; you can take on sexist twunts and kick their arses but you can also retain your femininity. You can view this as a watering-down of feminism, or you can view it as a funny, ultimately human moment.

King is not portrayed as overtly political, but the speeches she does give are memorable--she turns on a reporter quizzing her about the game and asks him if he thinks his father is better than his mother. When he mumbles "No," she retorts "That's what you're saying if you think women should be paid less." She then storms off leaving him and all the other clamoring journalists in her wake. It's simple, it's unambiguous, and it avoids the endless debates about labeling oneself a feminist, or a women's libber, or what those terms mean. King's message is clear: you either walk the walk and treat women equally, or you're a sexist and you can get fucked.

Emma Stone is reliably great as the lead, showing the understated, media-shy manner in which the great tennis player dealt with a level of media attention for which she was deeply unprepared. Austin Stowell as Larry, her husband, also does a great job of humanising the man who could clearly see that his wife loved women, but did not turn on her or desert her for this. He's pragmatic: he recognises that King's parents are old-fashioned and would not accept a lesbian daughter, and he also sees that the sexist, homophobic media which followed his wife around would use the information to crucify her. So he continues to support her and her tennis, and all but gives his blessing to her affair with Marilyn, the team hairdresser. This is a much more nuanced portrayal than I was expecting; I thought I was going to see a sexually threatened, insecure husband lashing out at his wife for betraying him, and instead I got something that felt much more realistic. Again, this reminds us that the lines draw in the 'battle of the sexes' are never exact, or clear, or ineradicable. Since so much fraternising with the 'enemy' takes place, it's inaccurate to call it a battle most of the time anyway.

Sarah Silverman is also fantastic as Gladys Heldman, King's agent, publicist and chain-smoking, nasal guardian angel. I remember wo-manning a table for Ms magazine at a rally against the War on Women in 2012, and Silverman approaching us shy young interns and offering to have her photo taken with us. It was a moment where Hollywood and real life collided, where it occurred to me that the women who inhabit such seemingly faraway, ethereal worlds may actually share some of my concerns, passions and sources of rage. 

Battle of The Sexes has pulled off no mean feat by making feminism and equal pay seem like spiky, shiny topics worth examining and yet still funny enough to lose yourself in for 120 minutes. Two thumbs up from me.