There’s a moment in Cristina Costantini’s documentary when Sally Ride’s contemplative voice narrates over views of Earth from space. “You can look at Earth’s horizon and see this really, really thin royal blue line, and then you realize it’s Earth’s atmosphere, and that that’s all there is of it. It’s about as thick as the fuzz on a tennis ball.” She goes on to say, “From that perspective… all the arbitrary restrictions we place on ourselves and on each other, they mean nothing.” Every part of that analogy is personal. As a tennis player, a physicist, and an astronaut, those words carry the weight of someone who’s seen the world in its planetary form and has felt the bruise of those arbitrary restrictions.
In 1983, when Sally Ride became the first American woman in space, the achievement was historic, but the path was littered with ridiculous hurdles that reflected the era’s deep-seated sexism. Male astronauts were treated as heroes, but women were, at best, a curiosity. In one clip, astronaut Gordon Cooper quips that a woman could have replaced the chimpanzee on an early mission. At another point, reporters asked Dr. Ride if she cried under pressure or worried about how space travel might affect her reproductive organs. There’s also the well-known, well-meaning misstep when NASA engineers, unsure of what a lady might need for a one-week mission, packed a makeup kit and 100 tampons—“just in case.” In “SALLY,” these instances help us understand what Ride fought for and against, highlighting how unprepared America was for women in space.
Notably, Ride and fellow astronaut Judith Resnik, the only other woman in her astronaut class, were pitted against one another by the press. Resnik was outgoing and magnetic. Ride was reserved and unreadable. The media and some of their colleagues attempted to turn their differences into a rivalry; as if there was only room for one woman in the vastness of space. But although the rule of one ruled the workplace, Ride hid her heart at home.
While “SALLY” commemorates Ride’s monumental achievements, its emotional core lies in her private life. Through interviews with Tam O’Shaughnessy, Ride’s partner of 27 years, we see the hidden heart of legend in an era that demanded she conceal her love. Ride and O’Shaughnessy met as teenagers on the Southern California tennis circuit—their friendship eventually blossoming into a love that sustained them even in the shadows.
What makes the documentary so fascinating is its refusal to reduce Ride to a single narrative. She was a scientist, a teacher, a masquerader, and a game changer, but also a student cautioned by the travails of tennis great, Billie Jean King. Ride loved deeply but quietly throughout a life shaped as much by what she revealed as by what she felt obligated to hide. With “SALLY,” Costantini delivers a doc that speaks to the heart and goals of someone who redefined what it means to break barriers. Like the thin blue line of Earth’s atmosphere, Sally Ride’s life reminds us that progress is fragile, but from the right perspective, it reveals boundless possibilities—a recurring theme that “SALLY” explores with nuance and care. Through archival footage and new interviews, Costantini peels back the layers of a life that was as private as it was extraordinary, revealing a love story, quiet defiance, and an unwavering commitment to excellence in a field that wasn’t ready for her.
Although it is unspoken, the film leaves us with a question. Women are frequently asked whether we can have it all, but men don’t ask permission. Ride refused to ask for it, either. She became the first American woman in space, and later a protector of other astronauts, chasing history and catching it. That meant she sacrificed loving freely. Still, she had it all in ways we never knew until after her death. Dr. Sally Ride is one of the few who saw the universe up close, while loving tennis, physics, space, and a woman named Tam—to the moon and back again.
Premieres on the National Geographic Channel tonight; on Disney+ and Hulu tomorrow.
