Portrayed by: Josh O’Connor
Film: Challengers
In more ways than one, Luca Guadagnino’s Challengers is a character study. It demands that we pay attention to all three of the main characters individually, then as an incredible trio who can’t help but consistently orbit around one another. They’re each profoundly flawed, complex individuals who make mistakes because they’re trying to find some sort of meaning in life.
Patrick Zweig is all heart. If there’s one way to describe the character despite all his mistakes, it’s that, like Art Donaldson and Tashi Duncan, when he loves, he loves deeply. He just has no idea how to show it because consistency and commitment are undoubtedly things that are missing in his life.
He’s a rich kid who pretends to be poor, and that alone is a whirlwind to unpack because it forces us to ask so many questions that I wish the screenplay answered. Josh O’Connor is an absolute star and gives the viewers plenty, which is why it’s so hard not to want more. He’s an enigma and an open book all at once, which is often a sign of the most mighty form of character development. He gives us plenty while holding so much back, resulting in some of the most endearing scenes throughout the film.
Patrick Zweig and the Honest Man’s Armor
One of the most riveting details about Patrick in Challengers is that he’s fully transparent. He holds very little back and moves to the beat of his own drums. Yet, at the same time, he’s also someone with barricades all around him, which is ultimately the most heartbreaking part of the film. Again, so much of the reason that Art Donaldson, Tashi Duncan, and Patrick Zweig work best as a trio is that they each possess something the other wants. They each need something that’s missing in their lives, and the only person who can give it to them stands right in front of them.
Challengers doesn’t give us backstories. We get glimpses here and there, but much of it is left to our imagination. This is true for all three of the characters. Why does Patrick pretend to be poor? Why does he refuse to acknowledge his family’s wealth, and why would he rather live in a car and consistently struggle to eat and sleep than ask for money? We could tie the answer to these questions to pride, but there could also be explanations. Patrick is canonically bisexual. We have confirmation from his Tinder searches, but what we don’t have much of is how long he’s known. Does he refuse to keep in touch with his family because they don’t accept his sexuality? It could be the reasoning because as much as Patrick is a wild card, it’s unfitting to say he doesn’t want a place to belong. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be orbiting around Art and Tashi. He wouldn’t be admitting to both of them how much he misses them when he’s away.
In many ways, for each of these characters, a good chunk of their arcs boils down to how they have no idea how to work with all the love inside them. They don’t know how to show it in a way that’ll fuel them while simultaneously satisfying the other. Still, they try, and Patrick’s means of trying is layered with laughter and honesty. If Art’s love language is words of affirmation, then Patrick’s is physical touch, and Tashi’s might be a bit of both with acts of service. I’d also argue that quality time applies to all three. The point is that Patrick is always the one who inches closer, pushes the stool forward, and uses closeness to feel something, and frankly, it’s beautiful. It’s wholesome. It’s where we see his desperation to be loved in its most transparent form.
He is fully attracted to Art, and he is entirely enraptured by Tashi. The love is there and intense for both of them. And amid the game he plays, Patrick puts on this armor that he has everything under control because ultimately, he doesn’t. It’s riveting that he’s the only one from the trio to fully break his racket because we can look at it as his means of shattering the layers that he hides behind. He, too, wants to be cherished and loved. He wants to matter. He wants to be missed. And his armor doesn’t fully crumble until the moment he chooses to give his best friend a signal again—to invite him back into his life, to take the reins and just exist.
When the Game You Love Simply Isn’t Enough
When it comes to tennis, they each have a different relationship with the game they love most. Art is drained from it, tired, and broken. Tashi loves it the most, but she’s chasing what she lost. And for Patrick, tennis isn’t enough anymore—it never was. It’s interesting that he’s the one who goes pro first, but simultaneously, he’s the one who struggles with it. Patrick loves tennis, but tennis doesn’t exactly love Patrick back the way he deserves.
Tashi notes that he complains about how he isn’t chosen, how lonely he is, and how he always fumbles in the second set because he allows his cockiness to take center stage. And a large part of this is because Patrick makes decisions based on what he thinks he should do and not what he wants to do. He hides how he really feels to put on an act. And maybe it’s a result of the love he’s desperate to receive. When you don’t know how to ask for what you truly want, it manifests in different, more intense ways. In an interview with Queerty, Josh O’Connor states: “Patrick is obsessed with Art, and he’s obsessed with Tashi. And he challenges them both. And they accept the challenge, and they both, whether they admit it in different points of the film, both I believe the challenge of Patrick.” For Patrick Zweig, tennis simply isn’t everything. Tennis plus the two loves of his life are his world. They give him everything he needs, even while he’s away from them. Tennis, plus challenging them both, playing with them, and adoring them are everything.
It’s why everything with him is so convoluted and messy. Some people thrive in the chaos, and that’s how Patrick operates because, for whatever reason, order for him fluctuates everything and forces an armor up. Whether that comes from his home life growing up, the need to escape, or the inability to grasp what he needs, we can’t tell. [I would genuinely give everything to just be a fly on the wall during each of their therapy sessions because the complexities we would unpack would undoubtedly be so deeply human.]
Further, it’s riveting how Patrick tells Tashi he isn’t disturbed by how stupid everything is because the reality is that Patrick is smart, too. Patrick choosing not to get a proper education isn’t a sign that he isn’t intelligent; it’s a choice he’s making because he knows it won’t work for him. That’s not Patrick Zweig’s way of doing things, and countless people are just like him. Still, Patrick is sharp and clever. He picks up on Art’s manipulation and calls him out on it. He sees right through Tashi and calls her out on it, too. Patrick knows what he’s doing, and he sees what his friends are doing, too—and with them, he can admit to that. He doesn’t have to close himself off. He doesn’t have to wear an armor to defend himself. He knows exactly how to behave because he understands them and what they need.
He loves them. He forgives them. He’s always honest with them. He loves tennis more because of them. O’Connor packs so much when he tells Art, “I miss playing with you.” There’s such tenderness to Patrick at that moment that only Art can bring out—a softness that he hides when he’s around others because maybe it’s the part of him that comes out most effortlessly when Art is around. And that softness on the court translates to a fire, which is why he could beat Art in the game. Where Art is soft with Tashi, he’s more rugged with Patrick. And where Patrick is more wild with Tashi, he’s more tender with Art. It’s why tennis on his own doesn’t take him where he wants to go because it’s all linked together.
Patrick Zweig’s Role in the Trio
At first, Patrick is on the outside looking in, but Patrick is also their glue. They all are. At some point throughout the film, they each screw up royally. They make decisions that come from anger, frustration, and pain. But as mentioned in our feature: There Are No Teams – It’s a Love Story With Agency at the Center, this isn’t a film about righteousness. Not character is better than the other. No character is more innocent. They each play a part in changing the narrative, and they contribute to each other’s happiness and pain.
Yet, at the end of the day, they each make big decisions, and there are circumstances that can’t be controlled. For Patrick Zweig, it’s all about his decision to continue coming back even when they tell him to leave. It’s his choice to love them both and do whatever they want because it’ll make them happy. Selflessness and selfishness co-exist with so much toxicity in this film that it’s so achingly delicious to witness. It’s so human.
In a lot of ways, Patrick is their spark. He’s a light. He’s all swagger and confidence, and simultaneously, he’s all joy because even where there shouldn’t be laughter, he brings it. There’s something about casting Josh O’Connor in this movie, and that may be the perfect casting decision ever because no actor’s smile is as infectious. Seriously, search for pictures of smiling and no matter what mood you’re in, I guarantee it’ll uplift you. Without Patrick, there’s no laughter. There’s no joy. They all need him because even when they’re riled up, one smile from him changes the course.
When he chooses to show Art the signal at the final match point, he doesn’t do it to destroy Art and Tashi’s marriage—he does it because he knows Art doesn’t like feeling left out. Patrick knows exactly what that pain feels like, so he goes against Tashi’s wishes to throw the match, and he instead signals to his best friend that he’s always going to be honest with him. Patrick will tell Art the truth, even when he shouldn’t. He knows that’ll get Art to play better because he knows all his tells more intimately than anyone else. He also knows, deep down, that Tashi would rather see a good match than one that isn’t earned. This way, he caters to them both. He opens his arms to them fully, countering that despite all their beliefs of who’s better than whom, they’re all equals throughout different beats.
To repeat—in all three deep dives.
Patrick is fully open about his sexuality. We have confirmation that he’s bisexual because of the split second with the Tinder matches showing both men and women. Art represses his sexuality like his life depends on it because, once more, Art needs people to guide him. There are thousands of ways the threesome scene could’ve gone if Tashi didn’t stop them from kissing. Still, what Art doesn’t realize (even while he thinks he’s too old) is that his need not to feel left out is linked to his desires for both of them. Thus, when he screams in the end, it almost parallels the scream he heard from Tashi the first time he watched her play. He’d never seen anything like it, and he had never experienced anything similar, either. This time, it’s almost like it finally clicks. It’s freeing.
It’s at that moment where Art (maybe, hopefully) understands that this is all possible. After all that frustration is out of him and he continues playing, he and Patrick enter back into a relationship. It turns into a sort of love-making that’s even rarer than anything Tashi hoped she’d see. But this relationship does not end after a winner is crowned. It’s something that’s going to continue off the court, too. Patrick and Art can’t spend two seconds together without giggling and pushing each other’s buttons. They’re finally back in that place, and it feels right again.
When Tashi screams at the end with her glowing smile on full display, it’s because she finally gets what she wants, which is some good fu%$ing tennis. And the best part of it is that she gets it from her husband and their soulmate. It’s jarring how people could come out of this movie and choose sides when the invisible string threading them together isn’t all that hidden. It’s bold. It’s obvious. Tashi needs Art’s tenderness, but she also needs Patrick’s gravitas, too. Patrick needs Art’s playfulness, but he also needs Tashi’s fire. And Art needs every part of them with every bone in his body.
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First Featured Image Credit: ©2024 Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Pictures Inc.