Panini's First Threesome

My friend Josh told me a while back that Saul's been a bit "heavy" the last few months: too serious, too somber, too political. He suggested I do a movie review of Challengers, the 2024 sports-romance film starring Zendaya and some pasty white boys. I'd heard some shitty reviews but also some good ones, and I'd also heard that Zendaya shows a lot of skin, so I figured why the hell not: I like tennis, I like movies, and I like skin.

Panini also likes tennis and Zendaya, so we decided to watch it together. The fact that we'd heard there were one or more threesomes in the film made it that much more intriguing because what father doesn't like to watch a good ol' ménage with his 16-year-old daughter? Game on.

Four minutes into the film, Zendaya is wearing nothing or maybe close to nothing. I honestly can't remember because I think I was watching Panini to see if she was watching me ogle a woman about half my age. A few scenes later, Zendaya is once again baring a healthy amount of flesh and Panini asks, "Do you think Zendaya is hot?"

"Hell yes, she's hot!" I ejaculate.

First off, Saul has permission to use any meaning of the word "ejaculate." Second, I didn't say that. Instead, I deliberately and thoughtfully approached my response to the question with a careful consideration of the facts at hand: Panini is a typically insecure 16-year-old girl slowly but surely discovering her own beauty; I'm her 48-year-old father who allegedly once chased a young lass or two but is now devotedly married to Panini's handsome 47-year-old mother; Zendaya is an attractive 28-year-old who makes millions of dollars every year for being a decent actor and smoking fucking hot.

Panini knows Zendaya is hot. She must know I think she's hot because she knows I have eyes and loins. So what is she really asking me? Why is she asking me? I can only presume it's because, deep down, she's measuring her own beauty against Zendaya's. Well that's just fucking stupid and I refuse to let her do that so I pull the oldest parenting trick in the book and say, "Do you?"

But back to the movie review: One poorly produced moment occurs when Zendaya is feeding balls to another tennis player using a semi-western forehand grip. If that doesn't mean anything to you, sorry not sorry. If you know tennis though, you just vomited in your mouth a little because you know that any self-respecting tennis player would never feed balls with such a grip and that any self-respecting director who cares at all about the legitimacy of his craft would never let his star actor feed balls with such a grip. I don't wanna say the film was dead to me at that point, but director Luca Guadagnino was gonna have to do a lot to regain my trust and attention...

Sure enough, in the very next scene, Zendaya is gratuitously rubbing lotion all over her half-naked body. It occurred to me to ask Zendaya if she needed any help, or at least make that joke out loud. But then I remembered my audience, my body-obsessed teenage daughter who is probably feeling insecure because her body does not look like Zendaya's and uncomfortable that her dad may be frothing at the mouth due to various alleged perversions. The awkward silence between Panini and me lasts the entire scene and the hush of Zendaya's lotion massage is piercing.

But back to the movie review: Guadagnino annoyingly breaks the fourth wall when Zendaya's daughter asks Zendaya if she can watch Spider-Verse in which, as you know, Zendaya starred. Maybe Guadagnino thought that if he promoted another Zendaya movie in his movie, he could get into her pants like everyone in the movie does.

The actual threesome comes in a flashback about 30 minutes in when a teenage Zendaya encourages two teenage boys to make out not only with her but also with each other. I stole a couple looks at Panini as the scene developed but couldn't tell if she was curious, cautious, and/or confused. I was.

Shirts come off, all three characters are sitting on the bed, and Zendaya sucks face with one boy and then the other. She then gently pushes the boys' faces towards each other and they start to make out, at which point Panini ejaculates, "I told you they were gay!"

For the record, both of these boys desperately want to have sex with Zendaya and they are not gay. There are, however, homosexual undertones throughout the film and what's a good ménage without some experimentation.

The straight and gay caressing continues for what feels like an eternity, and I shift positions on the couch. Panini doesn't move or blink. Finally, after an interminable 25-second silence broken only by the on-screen sound of active tongues, smacking lips, and gentle groaning, Panini asks, "Is this how threesomes work?"

Again, the facts: Panini is a 16-year-old girl who, as far as her father knows, has never been involved in any triangular excursions. I am her 48-year-old father who has traveled the world, been around the block, and allegedly experimented with a number of recreational activities. I am also the deeply devoted husband of Panini's strikingly handsome 47-year-old mother.

So this question feels like a no-win. Either I answer knowledgeably, which implies I am a filthy heathen and results in Panini having even less respect for me than she already does. Or I feign ignorance, which implies I am a giant loser and results in Panini having even less respect for me than she already does.

The PG-13 threesome lasts about two minutes but, to me, feels like half an hour of NC-17 smut. When it's all over, Panini looks at me and says, "She was in total control."

But back to the movie review: Zendaya's tennis strokes weren't awful but they weren't good. Apparently she worked with former professional tennis player Brad Gilbert for months beforehand. Whatever. The tennis scenes themselves felt like a video game: too fast, too flashy, too dramatic. The movie starts in 2019, jumps back to 2006, returns to 2019, jumps back to 2008, and so on and so forth. Guadagnino does a pretty good job with these time shifts but Panini was often more confused about what year it was than if threesomes need to be gay.

Halfway through the movie, there's a male locker room scene in which a bunch of professional tennis players are hanging out, unpacking their racquet bags, and, of course, engaging in "locker room talk." Men walk in and out of the shower, there are a number of visible butt cheeks, and there is definitely at least one detailed shot of a penis because I remember the voice inside my head screaming: Oh my, that's quite an impressive penis. Hmmm, it doesn't look circumcised. Do uncircumcised penises look bigger? I wonder if Panini saw that penis. Of course she did. I wonder if she noticed it was uncircumcised. Of course she didn't. Oh shit, has Panini seen a penis in real life? Oh fuck, have I been saying all this out loud???

But back to the movie review I guess: Creative storyline, good acting, some scenes too long and melodramatic, last scene way too long and melodramatic. 

Late in the movie, one of the male leads is sitting in a sauna, sweating profusely and wearing only a towel. The other male lead enters the sauna with, if memory serves, nothing but a towel slung over his shoulder. There is for sure a close-up ass shot and also maybe a dick shot but honestly I can't remember because trauma does weird things. The scene is deeply homoerotic, as the men sweat, stretch, and refuse to break eye contact. The tension mounts and it's clear that they're either gonna fight or fuck. I'm perfectly comfortable with naked men fighting in a sauna and even more comfortable with naked men fucking in a sauna but I'm not sure I can handle witnessing Panini witness this oiled-up, muscle-tensed, floppy-dicked sword fight.

But back to the movie review in case anyone still cares: B/B-.

The movie's climax (pun and spoiler alert) begins with Zendaya fucking one of the dudes so the other dude (her husband) will continue playing professional tennis. Zendaya instructs the guy to pull over his busted SUV, they stop in a dark, abandoned parking lot, the windows fog up, and the car starts to jostle as, presumably, the thrusting begins. Panini says nothing and I silently pray to the godless universe that Panini become a strong, independent woman who never demands physical affection in a dark, abandoned parking lot in a busted SUV with foggy windows.

By the end of the movie, it is clear that Zendaya is willing to do anything to get what she wants. Panini and I bandy about such phrases as "savvy lady, "manipulative bitch," and "homewrecking slut."

The film finishes and we reflect.

Me: "So what'd you think?"

Panini: "It was all right. Zendaya was so mean to them."

"I know, right?"

"It's like feminism though."

"Huh? How do you mean?"

"The woman is finally taking control of the man."

I don't know if a threesome is in Panini's past and/or near future but I am happy to report that, despite its flaws, Challengers has both empowered my teenage daughter and taught her never to feed with a semi-western grip.