I LOVE FILM. Yeah, I used the “f” word. I know it sounds pretentious, forgive me, actually—no, I’m not sorry…it’s necessary. Movies are a business. Film is a medium. Film is art.

“They’re like animals!”

An executive at the gates of Roland Garros warns his deputy as spectators push and shove to get back into the clay court grounds following a rain delay. He’s in a grey three piece suit, pale blue shirt, and beige tie. The crowd, waving stubs in the air and faces of ticket agents, is effortlessly chic in a style that can only be described as very Parisian. Tailoring. Trench coats. Lacoste. Adidas sportswear in primary colors…all come barreling back through the gates in order to catch John McEnroe.

This is Roland Garros…or more commonly referred to as The French.

The 1981 tournament poster by artist Eduardo Arroyo.

It’s 1981. Paris, France. William Klein, the American-born French artist and visionary filmmaker known for his sociopolitical documentary films and feature films, has wriggled himself into every corner of Roland Garros Stadium. Court side. The training room. The locker rooms. The announcer’s booth. Player’s boxes. A private birthday celebration. The intimacy and access granted Klein is unprecedented…alarming by today’s standards. There is a moment when Yannick Noah is receiving a massage post match in nothing but a jock strap. Klein’s lens encountered almost no boundary as he and his three cameramen had their run of the grounds.

“For me, this film encapsulates everything I loved and love about the tennis of that moment; and in the hands of the great and singular William Klein, it is at once a gripping sports page, a fascinating piece of reportage, and a work of art.”

— Wes Anderson

This is what makes The French so special—the sheer intimacy of the entire affair. Klein’s critical yet affectionate look at the quirks and complexities of French life is easily his masterpiece (the cinematic influence on Woody Allen and Wes Anderson alone is significant). Each aspect of the tournament is observed in a seemingly unassuming and desultory manner as the film proceeds joyously and with ardent curiosity through a succession of fourteen loosely formed chapters—demarcated by an eclectic range of music and Fujifilm primary-color blocks that are as Godardian as they are emblematic of the French tricolor flag.

Moving chronologically through the stages of the Slam, The French begins with the preparations of the stadium and grounds—their adornment with flowers, the warm-up sessions, the charity events—and continues through to the women’s and men’s finals and the ceremonial hoisting of the trophies by the champions: the Czech player Hana Mandlíková and Swedish superstar and that edition’s poster-boy Björn Borg.

John McEnroe warming up in his Davis Cup warm up jacket by Sergio Tachini.

It is this poster (pictured second above), as a lithographic print by the artist Eduardo Arroyo, that hangs in my New York shop—an illustration of tournament favorite Bjorn Borg, from behind. The back of his head crowned with his iconic red, white, and blue striped headband over flowing orange Viking-length hair.

Tennis is a minor but significant influence on my sartorial vocabulary. Specifically Bjorn Borg and John McEnroe. More specifically, Bjorn Borg versus John McEnroe. Nobody had more off-court style than these two. They possessed a keen understanding of the match being played outside the lines. Fashion was a form of gamesmanship for these two rivals and on this clay on this day, it’s Borg who takes the Musketeers’ cup.

Klein foregoes voiceover commentary, relying instead on sly dialectical editing and name placards. Borg and McEnroe are featured but it’s the Roland Garros milieu that is the star. Adidas, Fila, and Sergio Tachini warm ups along with fine tailoring provide a masterclass of French dressing…the fashion alone is worth the price of admission (currently streaming on The Metrograph website for $5.00).