TIFF23 REVIEW: Backspot [2024]

Rating: NR | Runtime: 93 minutes
Release Date: May 31st, 2024 (Canada/USA)
Studio: levelFILM / XYZ Films
Director(s): D.W. Waterson
Writer(s): Noah Baumbach / D.W. Waterson (story)

I’m not breaking my neck for this.

You might assume that D.W. Waterson’s Backspot is going to be in the vein of Whiplash or The Novice as far as the high stress nature of a character pushing the boundaries of their body and mind to achieve greatness. You’d be wrong. Yes, that is an aspect here, but Waterson and screenwriter Joanne Sarazen skew younger. Riley (Devery Jacobs) isn’t a co-ed with career aspirations. She’s a teenager prone to belting out songs in the car with her girlfriend (Kudakwashe Rutendo’s Amanda) after cheer practice. I’m not saying twenty-somethings can’t have fun, but these kids want to have fun. They’re merely trying to balance it with the growing responsibilities teenage living demands.

That also doesn’t mean there won’t be undue stress to be the best. Existing on that fine line is where the film excels because it doesn’t pretend you can’t have both. You simply must do the work to get there. It’s so difficult at this age, though, because so many aspects are outside of their control. Riley can’t make her mother (Shannyn Sossamon) more approachable as far as being able to tell her what’s going on in her life (she doesn’t even know Amanda is more than a friend). Amanda can’t make her household more financially secure to not have to juggle a part-time job with everything else. And they’re both too young to fully grasp how different their lives and foreign their priorities truly are.

Enter Eileen McNamara (Evan Rachel Wood) and her elite squad of Thunderhawks. Riley, Amanda, Rachel (Noa DiBerto), and the other girls would do anything to join them. Well, now is the chance because a recent spate of injuries opened three spots that Eileen is desperate to fill due to a tournament fast approaching. And she has just the right mix of tough love, empathetic understanding, and unrealistic expectations to open the girls’ eyes to what it is they want and how they must act to get it. The line between cheer as sport and male gaze exploitation is blurred and the pressure becomes less about panic-inducing anxiety than a fear of realistic, life-altering danger.

So, Riley is thrown to the wolves in many respects. Her enjoyment of cheering as an identity has blinded her to objective criticism. It is a legitimate sport where these girls work regimens akin to Olympic hopeful gymnasts. But it’s also about entertainment and sex appeal. It’s about presenting an archaic image for the judges wherein Eileen yells at her athletes to stop treating her like their mother in one breath (“You wouldn’t look at Bill Belichick that way.”) and demand they “fix their face” and smile in the next. It’s a clash of ideals and double standards that’s only exacerbated by the fact too many teens can’t afford to give everything to one single sport.

Riley loses herself in Eileen’s fascistic coaching style and pushes boundaries with her friends because she doesn’t have to worry about anything else. Her family has money and thus she doesn’t need to work to own a car. Her mother is depressed and unlikely to question whatever Riley tells her, so accountability is nonexistent too. But what about Amanda? What about Rachel? You want to believe every kid this age has the same amount to lose, but the reality is that they have a whole lot more. Amanda needs work to help at home. Rachel is flying through the air while the others stand on the ground. The risk/reward ratio is skewed the opposite direction.

Backspot isn’t necessarily treading new ground in revealing these truths, but it presents them in an effective, entertaining, and thoughtful way. The drama and action are palpable throughout, but this is more coming-of-age teen-centered journey than existential pit of dread. The characters on-screen are very specifically depicted as kids, not young adults. That makes a huge difference to the tone and stakes, and it also matters when watching and deciding whether Waterson and Sarazen supply enough weight. I think they do. And the quick turnaround in attitudes is also believable at that age because we weren’t so crushed under the crippling pressure of the future. This is about working for the present.

Finding balance needs allies. Amanda, Mom, and Eileen have their moments, but they’re also serving other roles that prevent them from fully coming on-board. It’s why I think Thomas Antony Olajide’s Devon stands out. He’s Eileen’s right-hand and acts accordingly, but he’s also a realist who’s had many years to figure out his own equilibrium and realize that no one is perfect and nothing is set in stone. His is the real tough love because he delivers it with a soft hand that’s willing to recognize a hug can be more powerful than a scream. Devon has made mistakes and he owns them. He’s not hiding beneath impossible expectations. He remembers what it is to be happy.

And that’s the message here. Be happy. Maybe killing yourself to be the best backspot on the mat brings joy, but the moment it destroys everything else is the moment you must wonder if that joy was just hollow accomplishment. To watch these bubbly teens in love at the start become withdrawn and angry is to literally see innocence die. Because that’s what happens when you don’t know how to take a step back and diagnose the problems rather than brute force through them. The win here isn’t therefore to earn a trophy. The win is to smile again without being told you’re not. It’s about finding Riley and Amanda in that car singing at the top of their lungs again because the rest is simply noise.