Sally (now streaming on Disney+) is a no-frills documentary that fits its subject perfectly. And that subject is Sally Ride, the first American female astronaut to travel to space, whose no-nonsense demeanor gave her the steely determination and level-headedness to run multiple gauntlets on the way to making history. Those gauntlets? As if NASA astronaut training isn’t demanding enough on the brain and body, Sally dealt with crass sexism from coworkers and the media, and was a gay woman who remained closeted for decades, her 27-year relationship with partner Tam O’Shaughnessy never becoming public until Sally’s obituary was published. And that’s what makes this extraordinary story even more extraordinary – it’s not just an astronaut’s saga, but a heartbreaking love story too.
SALLY: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?
The Gist: “I find it sad that our society isn’t further along, and that this is such a big deal.” That’s a quote from an archival interview with Sally, referencing her status as the first American woman in space. Of course, there’s another layer to her assertion, one that she held terrifically close until her dying day – humanity could venture off the planet, but couldn’t accept two people of the same gender loving each other. The scrutiny Sally underwent was more than enough without sharing the contents of her heart, a large portion of which belonged to Tam. They met at a tennis tournament when Sally was 13. Sally would die under Tam’s care 48 years later. Which has one wondering: What was more difficult, spending two weeks orbiting Earth in the Space Shuttle, or hiding her true self from the residents of that planet?
Friends, coworkers, family members and especially Tam tell Sally’s story. She was as athletic as she was smart – she’s described as a “crafty” tennis player with a sharp competitive edge, and a lover of science, especially physics. She was studying at Stanford in 1977 when NASA launched a program designed to diversify its across-the-board White male astronaut corps by inviting women and people of color to apply. Sally was one of six women chosen for the program, out of 1,500 applicants. By 1982, she was selected to take the big trip beyond the bounds of our earthly atmosphere. Before, during and after the launch, she was met with skepticism from male colleagues who questioned her credentials – many were military vets with extensive experience – and dimbulbs in the press who asked her moronic questions, e.g., whether she’d cry in high-pressure situations. Famously, NASA dudes prepped for her trip by packing her a makeup kit (feel free to shake your head in disbelief) and 100 tampons. Yes, 100. Hey NASA dudes: You should’ve just asked.
During her college years and NASA training, Sally and Tam kept in touch. Tam was a regular on the pro-tennis circuit until she moved to Atlanta to pursue a career in academia. Sally quietly dated a different woman for a while in college, but as soon as she was in the public eye, she kept her romantic life under wraps. Tam played at Wimbledon and other tournaments alongside the likes of Billie Jean King, the tennis star who famously spent years rebuilding her life after she came out as gay, losing all her endorsements and the goodwill of the public. “Look at what happened to Billie Jean” was a refrain that hung over Sally – who, in 1982, married fellow astronaut Steven Hawley. Who was male. And is in this documentary, explaining what it was like to share a life with a woman who was so closed-off emotionally. Also in this documentary is Sally’s mother, Joyce Ride, who won’t even talk about talking about emotions. The Ride family was very stoic, see, and growing up in that family was perfect practice for never telling anyone that you’re gay.
Sally spends about as much time documenting Sally’s many professional accomplishments – besides her trip to space, she was on the NASA committee that investigated the Space Shuttle Challenger tragedy, and she and Tam started a STEM education program for girls called Sally Ride Science – as it does trying to peel back the protective facade she built around herself. Tam narrates large portions of the film, sharing anecdotes both sweet and prickly about their life together. Tam came from a more liberal background than Sally – the women’s tennis circuit lacked the gross prejudice of greater society – and seems more than a little heartbroken that she compromised her identity to maintain their relationship. (Sally’s sister Bear was also gay, and quickly unemployed as a Presbyterian minister when she came out.) But at its core, that relationship was deeply loving from beginning to end.
What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: Sally is the perfect pairing with HBO’s gripping Paul Reubens two-parter Pee-wee as Himself.
Performance Worth Watching: If (when?) you watch Sally, be sure to take a moment to compare and contrast how open-hearted Tam is and how hilariously inscrutable Joyce Ride is.
Memorable Dialogue: Tam: “Sally risked everything to make history. But telling the world about us was a risk she just couldn’t take.”
Sex and Skin: None.
Our Take: Bear sums it up perfectly at the end of the documentary: “Just let Sally be Sally.” On one level, Sally is a necessary reiteration of its subject’s many societally significant accomplishments. People looked up to her. She was on Sesame Street. Girls saw her as an ideal role model. But even role models are human, and subject to frailty, and the film isn’t afraid to reveal her as a complex figure, in some ways unknowable in life, but ironically a deeply sympathetic figure in death. Steven Hawley maintains a reserved persona even when he discusses how he thought he and Sally were getting married “in good faith.” Sally began seeing Tam regularly before the divorce, and Tam is admirably honest about the good and bad times she and Sally shared.
This is remarkable substance for a documentary that otherwise adheres to the National Geographic TV style consisting of talking heads, archival video and audio, and a fistful of reenactments functioning primarily as B-roll. Some of the archival footage struck me as educational-film fodder like we would’ve seen in school in the ’80s, but director Cristina Costantini (Mucho Mucho Amor) pushes far, far beyond the superficial uplift of such fodder by leaning on strong voices as interview subjects, especially Tam, who knew Sally better than seemingly anyone else in the world. She “just let Sally be Sally,” which is good advice for anyone who thinks they can judge others from afar.
Our Call: Oh, and go ahead and try not to cry at the end of the film. It ain’t happening. STREAM IT.
John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan.