Sports movie tropes abound in D.W. Waterson’s feature directorial debut Backspot, but it’s in how those tropes are employed that the film creates and sustains interest. Perhaps its most notable trait is that it centers around a sport that for a long time largely hasn’t been considered as such, both on and off screen. Cheerleading is often derisively considered an activity exclusive for hot, popular girls, the incredible physical feats they pull off shunned in favor of portrayals that emphasize skimpy costumes, shallow personalities, and their role in bolstering up a (usually all-male) sports team. That mode of thinking is, by this point, pretty outdated (the 2000 comedy movie Bring It On and its subsequent sequels and Broadway adaptation played a big part in subverting those cliches), but something about how Backspot wholly concentrates on the physical skill, stamina, and danger required to competitively cheer feels refreshing. The sapphic lens through which its story is presented further grants the story a perspective that is frequently missing from these sorts of narratives; Waterson, who grew up in a sports-obsessed household and who identifies as non-binary, has stated that with Backspot, they “made the movie I wanted to see growing up.”
Backspot (an expansion on Waterson’s short film of the same name, the title refers to the member on a cheerleading squad responsible for monitoring and ensuring the safety of those performing stunts) stars Devery Jacobs as Riley, an ambitious cheerleader whose drive for perfection is matched only by her high anxiety levels: Riley has trichotillomania, an obsessive compulsive disorder that causes one to pull out one’s hair, and Waterson doesn’t shy away from the realities of this behavior, often pausing the action to linger on close-ups of Riley plucking out her eyebrows until there’s almost nothing left. There are good things in her life, however, like her girlfriend Amanda (Kudakwashe Rutendo), who is on the same cheer squad as her and with whom she shares a loving, playful, and supportive relationship. And the intense pressure doesn’t deter her from over-compensating in her try-out for the Thunderhawks, an elite cheer squad headed by a hard-nosed coach, Eileen (Evan Rachel Wood). Considering how supposedly competitive it is, Riley, as well as Amanda and a handful of their friends, seem to have no issues making a team (one of a few odd choices that render the film rather anti-climatic). But Backspot is less concerned with the competition itself, and more with the mental and physical challenges such intense pressure exerts on the mind and body. Riley isn’t the only one whose stress takes its toll; Amanda’s relationship with and perception of Riley crumbles under the strain, and behind closed doors, Eileen— who takes a liking to the similarly ambitious Riley— reveals the cracks in her tough exterior.
Showmanship is definitely an aspect of cheerleading that we see throughout Backspot— Waterson depicts the girls getting ready into glittery costumes and tightly coiffed hair, while Riley struggles to maintain a perky smile as she performs her routine— but the film thrusts us more into the physical demands of the sport. Waterson places their camera close to the squad as they form pyramids and perform flips, thus placing the audience in the midst of the action and emphasizing the collaborative nature of it. If one girl doesn’t properly perform her job, another’s safety is put at risk, and we witness the consequences of that a couple times throughout Backspot. These tense training sessions and competitions are interspersed with scenes in which the teenage girls just get to be teenage girls. The quick cuts in some of the more raucous party scenes possess a frantic, scrolling-through-TikTok feel that emphasizes the Gen-Z-ness of the leads (as well as the film’s likely target audience), but a lot of these are quieter moments that either allow us to sit in Riley’s anxiety, or establish the loving relationship between her and Amanda, as they cuddle at home, or as Riley wordlessly offers to help her at her job at the local movie theater.
The other key component of Backspot is its queerness, which even among its small cast spans generations, genders, and races. Admittedly, Amanda’s role could have been made less reactive; it’s hard sometimes not to feel like she’s merely taking the place of requisite Black best friend. But Jacobs really establishes herself as a forceful lead; along with Wood’s firm presence (as a queer woman, Eileen likely sees some of herself in Riley, but you also better not sing a note of that song that bears her name) they elevate the material. They are joined by Thomas Anthony Olajide as Devon, a similarly no-nonsense assistant coach who, in his off hours, dances in a local club. Some of these off-shoots that are present throughout Backspot— Riley’s mildly fraught relationship with her similarly anxious mother, for instance— are frustratingly not delved as deeply into, but they do lend color and depth to the film. Backspot ends rather abruptly, and not with a lot of fanfare. But that feels appropriate for a movie that has spent the entirety of its runtime subverting such sports genre tropes. Backspot may not reinvent the genre, but it does turn the spotlight toward a sport and a group of people who are often seen— both literally and figuratively— on the sidelines.
Backspot opens in theaters on May 31. Runtime: 92 minutes.
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