The inevitable first impression: her ubiquitous smile.
That warm, radiant, all-encompassing and seemingly spontaneous smile, accompanied by sparkling eyes, with a hint of mischief.
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| Flanked by numerous male colleagues — not all of whom were happy to have her in their midst — Sally Ride absorbs the information during one of many pre-flight briefings. |
Ride was the quintessential Beach Boys’ California girl, albeit two decades later. To merely see her picture was to be dazzled.
For a decade that began in 1978, when she was one of six women accepted into the upcoming space shuttle program — NASA recently had made a big show of starting to include “women and minorities” in astronaut training — Sally Ride’s photo was everywhere. More than any other woman in history, she became a progressive symbol for girls with stars and STEM careers in their eyes, who embraced her oft-quoted words as a mantra:
“Women in this country can do any job they want to do.”
Director Cristina Costantini’s absorbing documentary lovingly depicts the Sally Ride the public knew and adored, but that’s only half her story. The other half didn’t come to light until 2012, with the publication of her obituary.
That half gives Costantini’s film its emotional heft.
She and co-scripter Tom Maroney take a leisurely approach, with a primary narrative that opens dramatically, as Ride and four fellow (male) astronauts are loaded into the STS-7 Challenger shuttle on June 18, 1983, for a six-day mission.
“It’s important that I don’t do anything dumb,” she comments, well aware that the eyes of the world are upon her; Costantini cuts to an amused grin from celebrated newsman Walter Cronkite.
The film then flashes back to Ride’s Southern California childhood as a young tennis star; as the narrative progresses, occasional non-linear segments dip back into the past, by way of explaining what occurs in the moment. The considerable archival footage is supplemented by extensive on-camera commentary, anecdotes and confessional observations by her longtime partner, Tam O’Shaughnessy.
That’s the detail nobody knew until after Ride died.
Ride and O’Shaughnessy met in grade school, while the former showed early promise as a “crafty” tennis player. Ride initially pursued that career aggressively, admitting — in a later interview — that she nearly lost her scholastic confidence, in middle school, because of the lack of attention paid to girls interested in STEM careers.
Ultimately, tennis championships while attending Swarthmore College couldn’t bury Rice’s actual goals. Once back in California, she graduated from Stanford with twin degrees in English and physics, followed by masters and PhD degrees in astrophysics. While obtaining the latter, in 1977, Ride answered NASA’s open call for space shuttle astronauts.
In a charming touch, O’Shaughnessy shares Ride’s hand-written application letter.
Ride was accepted the following year, and she admits that “Some NASA elements didn’t know what to do with us [women].” Even so, she excelled at all aspects of training; after just one year, she was selected to be CapCom (Capsule Communicator) on the STS-2 Columbia shuttle mission, which launched on November 12, 1981.
“The best job next to flying,” she admitted, at the time.
She and O’Shaughnessy remained in contact throughout this period, albeit platonically and under the radar. While it’s tempting to wonder why, in this more enlightened era, one must remember that the mid-1970s was a very different world.
Ride and O’Shaughnessy met Billie Jean King during their tennis-playing phase; Ride became an instructor at King’s tennis camp. Ride therefore took note when King was outed by her secretary in the spring of 1981; the tennis star lost everything ... endorsements, her camps and all the adulation.
Closer to home, Ride’s younger sister Karen — affectionately known as “Bear” — was a firebrand lesbian Presbyterian minister who assumed that position mere months after Sally entered the NASA program. As a fierce early advocate for the LGBTQ+ community, Bear garnered all manner of unpleasant attention.
Both King and Bear are among this film’s many talking heads.
The media world went crazy on April 19, 1982, when Ride was selected for the SDS-7 mission, narrowly beating out fellow trainee Judy Resnik. (We learn more about her a bit later.) The first major press conference, excerpted here, is a model of cringe-worthy sexism; the journalists treat her like a trophy wife, with soft-ball questions having nothing to do with her qualifications.
“In your training, when there was a problem, how did you respond?” one idiot asks. “Did you weep?”
At one point, gamely amused, she wonders aloud why questions of this nature aren’t being directed toward her male SDS-7 colleagues.
It gets worse. In this film’s funniest sequence, NASA’s ferociously male-oriented culture can’t begin to envision what should be placed within a female astronaut’s toiletry kit. They come up with a makeup kit (!) that includes 100 tampons. (“Will that be enough?” someone asks, in all seriousness.)
The mission was successful, during which Ride displayed her flair for helping to deploy two satellites via the shuttle’s robotic arm (the hand-eye coordination from her tennis years having paid off).
Following touchdown, the media world really blew up. Ride was seen everywhere, from magazine covers and cereal boxes to a guest appearance on TV’s Sesame Street.
(In October 1984, Ride served on a second Challenger mission — STS-41G — which isn’t covered in this film.)
Then came January 28, 1986, after which Ride’s career took ... an intriguing turn.
Costantini’s approach is pragmatic, revealing a professional woman who — in part due to her stoic Norwegian heritage — kept herself to herself. As King and O’Shaughnessy both comment, it must’ve been a precarious tightrope walk, every minute of every day.
Unfortunately, the fascinating archival footage and captivating talking heads are undercut by an ongoing series of re-enactment interludes (a technique I’ve always loathed in documentaries). Anonymous actresses — faces left unseen — depict Ride and O’Shaughnessy’s private moments, both as teenagers and adults.
While it’s understandable that Costantini wants to grant equal time to Ride’s disparate public and private lives — no news cameras were on hand for the latter — these sequences rip us out of the ongoing story ... particularly when the montages become increasingly intimate. They feel intrusive.
“The world is not always kind,” O’Shaughnessy admits, toward the film’s conclusion, “[but] she left us on her terms.”
This is an important film, in these divisive and tempestuous times. Costantini’s tone is celebratory and respectful, and one hopes that this in-depth cinematic valentine enhances Ride’s well-deserved reputation, by revealing more of the person not captured by TV cameras.
In my mind, it makes her even more impressive.
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