Backspot
Directed by D.W. Waterson
Written by Joanne Sarazen, Story by D.W. Waterson
Starring Devery Jacobs, Kudakwashe Rutendo, Evan Rachel Wood, and Thomas Antony Olajide
Running time 1 hour and 32 minutes
Unrated
In theaters May 31

by Megan Bailey, Staff Writer

Backspot follows Riley (Devery Jacobs) who faces the epic highs and lows of competitive cheerleading.When spots open up in the elite squad at her gym, she’s excited to show her skills and determination. But even in her mid-level squad, the stress of being a backspot– the last defense against a teammate’s potential injury–gets to Riley. We see her have anxiety attacks and deal with trichotillomania during those spirals. Once she makes it on the Thunderhawks, Riley has to figure out a balance between her commitment to the squad, her girlfriend, and herself.

What I think stands out in this film is that every character feels lived in. They aren’t stock characters. For instance, there’s a lot under the surface between Riley and her mother, though they only share a couple scenes. There’s one scene with Riley and her father (and he’s off-screen in nearly all of it), but the dynamic, the tension between them, is easy to understand. Riley’s girlfriend, Amanda (Kudakwashe Rutendo), likewise has a full life, with her mother and her siblings, as well as her job at the movie theater. Cheerleading isn’t the end-all-be-all for her, and we can understand why. Riley and Amanda have a strong connection, but being on the Thunderhawks puts a strain on them as their coach, Eileen (Evan Rachel Wood), demands more and more from them.

Devon (Thomas Antony Olajide), Eileen’s assistant coach, is a standout in the film. First, in his introduction, he tells the girls that the last cheerleaders “died…or broke a toe, I don’t remember,” and then later on, he shows Riley how to have a life outside the sport. We can see him recognize that she needs help balancing the intensity of the sport, of Eileen’s expectations, and the reality of being a young queer woman.

With Coach Eileen, I think they were clearly going for some level of Monica Aldama from Cheer, the Netflix docuseries that blew up during COVID. She’s a hardass with strict rules for the members of her squad at Navarro College. Her gym is also a powder keg of competition, tough love, and dangerous stunts. Where Aldama is willing to be a second mother to her cheerleaders (for better or worse), Eileen is not. She doesn’t want to see Riley cry; she only wants her squad to execute. When Riley and Amanda discover that Eileen is queer through an offhand comment, it opens up the world to them. To have a woman like them leading an elite cheerleading team is meaningful! But it doesn’t make her any easier to be around or any kinder to them. She’s not exactly the queer elder they’d envisioned.

All of the pressure on Riley throughout the film reaches a boiling point, where she has to decide what she values most. And her choice reminds viewers that these intense sports aren’t always safe spaces, and they’re not necessarily built to be, even if there are people like you (at least in some way) at the top. Devery Jacobs is incredible in the film, and she grounds us in Riley’s mental and physical space. Cheerleading takes a toll on her, and we’re along for the ride

Having watched Cheer, I found the routines in this film a little less ambitious, though that’s probably for the obvious reason that they’re not actually a competitive squad. The routines we see toward the end of the film are interesting, but the stunts aren’t anywhere near Navarro College level. Since we’re focusing on Riley’s journey anyway, I wasn’t too bothered by that. There may be one too many montages in this thing, but I can see the intention in most of them: the euphoria of a good practice, the chaos of a drunken dance at a party, and so on. The montages ground us in Riley’s chaotic experience, and the almost repetitive nature serves to show us the monotony that can come with a sport like cheerleading.

This movie takes on a lot of topics: cheerleading as a sport, fatphobia in the discipline, misogyny faced by women in charge, class divide between teammates, etc. Most of them get an adequate amount of time, though I could see a more focused film taking on only one or two of these ideas. But Backspot gives the whole picture, an overview of the many overlapping facets of the sport and how they affect different members of the squad. It’s never a bad thing to take a big swing, and this film does adequate justice to the intersectional space occupied by a lot of the characters featured in it. Generally, the whole cast delivers, so there’s really no weak link here. Backspot shows that giving your all—especially to an unforgiving sport—isn’t always as rewarding as it seems.