Sally is more than a documentary-it's a quiet, powerful reckoning with the complexities of being a public icon and a private individual. Directed by Cristina Costantini, the film peels back the layers of Dr. Sally Ride's life, showing us not just the astronaut who broke barriers, but the human being who navigated a world that often didn't make space for her whole self.
What struck me most was how gracefully the film balanced admiration with intimacy. Ride's historic journey into space is, of course, celebrated. But it's the deeply personal moments-her long-term relationship with Tam O'Shaughnessy, the burden of keeping her identity hidden-that linger long after the credits roll. The use of archival footage, voiceovers, and interviews creates a sense of closeness, as if we're finally hearing from Sally in her own words.
The film doesn't try to be a comprehensive biography. Instead, it chooses emotion over exposition, connection over chronology. That might leave some viewers wanting more about her scientific work, but for me, the choice felt intentional-and powerful. It's a film about what it costs to live authentically, and how sometimes, that cost is silence.
Sally is tender, haunting, and deeply necessary. In telling her story now-with honesty and care-it gives her the full humanity she was denied in life.
