By John Huston
American sports is crowded with astounding tales. Broadway Joe Namath fearlessly predicted his upstart New York Jets from the American Football League would somehow beat the powerful Baltimore Colts of the NFL. They did, and their victory changed pro football. A wiry, loudmouth, undersized heavyweight from Louisville—Cassius Clay, they called him—proclaimed he was “The Greatest,” and through the years, his actions and triumphs as Muhammad Ali transfixed and transformed society. In tennis, we all know that Billie Jean King changed the landscape. Yet what story is more improbable, more incredible, than two kids emerging out of the LA hood to become, as their father Richard Williams famously predicted, “the No. 1 and No. 2 in the world”?
The new documentary Venus and Serena straightforwardly tells that amazing story, and with no shortage of commentary. Maiken Baird and Michelle Major’s movie is front-loaded with colorful quips from famous observers. The pioneering journalist Gay Talese observes, “It’s one of the greatest mysteries of modern tennis, I think, how two girls from Compton can go down as among the greatest players ever.” President-turned-sports analyst Bill Clinton likens the aura of a 17-year-old Serena Williams to that of Lebron James at his peak. Chris Rock refers to Venus and Serena as “black black, not country club black,” while Vogue dominatrix Anna Wintour describes them as “incredible, magnetic, athletic goddesses.”
Indeed, Venus and Serena Williams certainly possess the commanding presence of movie stars, which—along with 54 overall Grand Slam titles—makes Venus and Serena a sure thing in terms of compelling viewing. It also helps that they’re joined by a characterful supporting cast, from the irascible Richard and their sage, wryly humorous mom Oracene (“To grunt or not to grunt,” she holds forth to the British press at one point), to bluntly candid sister Isha, and Serena’s longtime hitting partner Sascha Bajin, whose relationship with Serena has its share of familial affection and sparring (she reverts to a little girl’s “Eew” response when someone mentions the idea of dating him).
Venus and Serena is primarily framed by the year 2011, which further makes it a story about overcoming adversity—neither of the sisters won a major in 2011, and the year began with Serena in the hospital contending with a pulmonary embolism and ended with Venus in the early stages of coping with a Sjogren’s syndrome diagnosis. Still, the filmmakers have no shortage of prescient from-the-mouths-of-babes predictions and victorious footage to draw upon, for the Williams sisters began making history even before a teenage Venus won her first WTA tournament. And Serena’s terrific summer in 2012, taking the singles at Wimbledon and the doubles with Venus, provides an uplifting coda to the film—it would be icing on the cake if she weren’t still dominating the tour today, with an eye on the record books.
Produced for HBO by the Oscar-winning documentary director Alex Gibney (Enron: The Smartest Guys in the Room), the 99-minute movie is saddled with a wack and sugary-sweet Wyclef Jean theme song, but it allows some current-day discord to come to the surface, particularly with regards to Richard, whose tomcatting and svengali antics aren’t welcomed by his famous daughters now that they’re well into adulthood. Oracene may once have been the spine to Richard’s coaching body, as Serena puts it, but the two are no longer in alignment. In fact, Venus and Serena insightfully contrasts their approaches. At one point, decked out in red tennis clothes that could be a nod to LA’s Bloods gang, Richard comically compares a sluggish preteen Venus to “a 97-year-old woman,” but it’s clear that his abstract barking now annoys the sisters during practice sessions. Oracene goes so far as to correct his “elbows up” commands, noting, “You’ve got to swing through the ball.” She’s even blunter when asked what she’d tell Richard’s current wife, Lakeisha: “The only advice I would say to her is ‘Run, Do not pass go, do not collect $200.’”
In Venus and Serena, Serena’s core support structure seems stronger or more united than Venus’s, and Oracene’s closer coaching relationship to Serena—whom Richard passed off as “crazy” when she was young—provides an insightful window into Serena’s tremendous resolve and technical superiority. Oracene comes off as a relaxed, astute micromanager, offhandedly telling Serena to improve her footwork during Wimbledon. (One thinks back to her practical “Stay out of Melbourne” court-positioning advice during Serena’s heroic comeback run at the 2007 Australian Open.) The movie also explores Venus and Serena’s early training. Former coach Rick Macci’s memories and observations provide both support and counterpoint to footage of Richard’s different unorthodox tactics, which included having the sisters throw racquets, footballs, and baseballs, play against cheating opponents, and spar with boxers.
If Martina Hingis once referred to Venus and Serena as a “two-headed monster,” Baird and Major’s movie does her one better by presenting a quick series of photos of her, Lindsay Davenport, and Maria Sharapova (in her only cameo, no less) scowling over the sisters’ shoulders after defeats. This is in line with the popular narrative of the vanguard “Straight Outta Compton” sisters—yes, there’s even a brief family-friendly snippet of NWA on the soundtrack—upsetting the orthodoxy of a sport that Talese describes as an “elitist white man’s folly.”
In outlining that history, Venus and Serena is sometimes fragmented. Althea Gibson and Arthur Ashe get cursory mentions at best. While it covers Serena’s recent blowups at the US Open, the documentary never contextualizes them in relation to the outrageous line calls that took place during her 2004 quarterfinal against Jennifer Capriati at Arthur Ashe Stadium. But Williams-vs.-the-tennis-world friction is present from minutes into the film, when Richard almost gleefully tells Matt Lauer that he has no particular love for the sport. It reaches its apex in a segment devoted to the infamous 2001 women’s final at Indian Wells, when Serena (on court) and Venus and Richard (in the stands) were booed mercilessly by an almost all-white crowd after Venus had unexpectedly pulled out of a match against Serena in the previous round.
Whatever Richard might say, Venus and Serena makes it clear that both sisters’ passion for tennis is strong—and complicated. United by blood and often by victory, they’re still distinct from one another personality-wise in the movie. “I think subconsciously Venus is willing to give her (Serena) the spotlight,” Billie Jean King observes of their big sis-little sis dynamic, a comment that’ll have many a Venus fan flashing back to the perplexing see-saw routine of the sisters’ 2008 US Open quarterfinal. Isha chalks up self-described “copycat” Serena’s thirst for achievement to “youngest-child syndrome.” While Venus-as-a-girl is a coy scene-stealer in archival footage, in the movie’s present-day scenes, it’s Serena who more overtly courts the camera, whether clowning during karaoke or—in the film’s funniest passage—explaining her different personalities and their names. There’s Psycho Serena, the mature and worldly Summer, the rude and ruthless Megan (who, the film makes clear, you don’t want to compete with in tetherball), and then there’s Laquanda. Tennis fans know Laquanda as the woman who unleashed f-bombs while threatening to shove a ball down a linesperson’s throat at the 2009 US Open. As Oracene puts it, “Laquanda got loose” that day.
If there’s a thematic undercurrent of Venus and Serena, it’s that sisterhood is powerful. No matter how many children Richard adds to the family tree, the tennis-pro members of the clan are just part of a core strong group of women, united and spearheaded by their mother. “I would consider all my sisters my coaches,” Serena even says at one point. For while Venus and Serena have often been forced to compete against one another, they’ve also supported each other, and not just as doubles partners—Venus herself admits it was Serena who in a sense taught her to believe she could win a Grand Slam by grabbing one first. The documentary’s most poignant moments touch fleetingly upon the murder of Venus and Serena’s eldest sister, Yetunde Price, in a drive-by shooting. Asked individually about Yetunde, both of these strong athletes struggle to hold back tears and form words. “She meant a lot to me,” Serena manages to say, her face pained and her voice trembling just like it did when she first revealingly addressed the loss—during her winner’s speech back in 2007 in Australia.
Winners, and loss: perhaps more than any other modern player—even the indefatigable younger Rafael Nadal—the Williams sisters have repeatedly, miraculously snatched victory from defeat, spinning triumphs out of great setbacks. No comeback has been impossible, whether it was Venus fighting off a match point to prevail against Lindsay Davenport (who led for almost all of three sets) in the operatic 2005 women’s WImbledon final, to the entire second act of Serena’s career, a rebuke—still very much in progress—to longtime critics such as Mary Carillo who repeatedly questioned her commitment to the game. While Venus and Serena doesn’t examine famous on-court examples of this ultra-rare talent, it pays tribute to and shines a light on the off-court real-life forces—from adversity to spirituality to complicated family ties—that allowed it to bloom. The Williams sisters, it’s clear, are a one-of-a-kind pair.
