Bring It On (2000) — Review

I have watched Bring It On twice. The 8 reflects honest evaluation of one of the best teen films of the 2000s, anchored by Kirsten Dunst at her career peak, Gabrielle Union in a star-making supporting role, and Peyton Reed’s debut direction handling the material with a precision most first features cannot manage. The film is funnier than it has any right to be, more honest about race than almost any mainstream teen film of its era, and structurally tighter than the genre requires.

The film is not woke. The racial plot at the center of the story is load-bearing. The Toros cheerleading squad stole their championship routines from the East Compton Clovers for years. The discovery of this fact is the protagonist’s inciting incident. The resolution requires the protagonist to do the harder work of building original material rather than continuing to coast on stolen routines. The race plot is not decorative commentary added for points. The race plot is the actual story. The distinction matters because it is what separates Bring It On from later teen films that perform racial awareness without making the racial dynamics structurally necessary to the story.

The Setup

Torrance Shipman is the new captain of the Rancho Carne High School Toros cheerleading squad in San Diego. The Toros are five-time national champions. Torrance inherits the team from the previous captain, Big Red, who has graduated. Torrance discovers within the first act that Big Red had been driving down to Compton for years, watching the East Compton Clovers practice, and stealing their routines wholesale for the Toros to perform.

The Clovers’ captain Isis confronts the Toros directly at one of their practices. The confrontation is the film’s structural turning point. Isis is not asking for credit. Isis is telling the Toros that the theft is over. The Clovers will be at Nationals this year. They will perform their own routines. The Toros will need to come up with something else. Torrance has to choose between continuing the theft or building something legitimate. The rest of the film follows that choice.

Kirsten Dunst As Torrance

Dunst was eighteen years old when this film shot. The performance is the centerpiece. Torrance could have been a generic teen-movie protagonist defined by her social position. Dunst plays her as a specific person with specific blind spots and a specific capacity for growth. Torrance is not stupid. She is operating inside a system that has rewarded her for ignoring how it works.

The arc Dunst plays is the arc the film needs. Torrance starts the film believing she earned her position. She ends the film knowing that what she inherited was stolen and that her job as captain is to do better than what came before. The growth is not announced through monologues. The growth is shown through specific choices: hiring a real choreographer, accepting that the first attempt at original material is bad, doing the work to make the second attempt better, accepting Isis’s refusal of her offered settlement money, and ultimately competing at Nationals on legitimate terms.

Gabrielle Union As Isis

Union was twenty-seven years old when this film shot. The performance is one of the cleanest star-making turns in 2000s teen cinema. Isis could have been written as either a stereotype or a saint. Union plays her as a competent leader of a competent team who is tired of being robbed by people who have not earned what they have.

The character has dignity without being preachy. Isis does not lecture the Toros. Isis informs them that the theft has been recognized and that the consequences have arrived. The performance never falls into the trap of making Isis the protagonist’s moral guide. Isis has her own team to lead, her own competition to win, her own life that does not exist for Torrance’s benefit. Union plays this with the specific weariness of a person who has been right about something for years and is finally being heard about it.

The “Brrr, it’s cold in here” scene with Isis confronting the Toros at their gym is one of the most quoted moments in 2000s teen cinema. The scene works because Union refuses to play it for either anger or charm. She plays it for accuracy. The Toros stole the routines. Isis is telling them this. The Toros are caught. The scene has the texture of an adult conversation happening in a high school gym, and Union’s performance is what gives it that texture.

The Choreographer Sparky Polastri

Ian Roberts plays Sparky Polastri, the choreographer Torrance hires to develop original routines for the Toros after Isis confronts them. Sparky is one of the great minor comic characters in 2000s teen cinema. He is intense, demanding, contemptuous of his clients, and absolutely convinced of his own genius. The “spirit fingers” sequence where he introduces his signature movement to the Toros is one of the most quoted comedy moments in the film.

The character is also a vector for the script’s central comedy beat: Sparky sold the same routine to multiple teams that all show up to the same competition wearing identical choreography. The reveal is one of the film’s most efficient gags. Torrance hired Sparky thinking she was buying originality. She was actually buying mass-produced choreography that other squads also purchased. The Toros have to scrap the work and build something genuinely original at the last minute. The crisis is funny and also serves the larger arc: original work cannot be purchased, it has to be made.

The Earned Ending

The Toros do not win Nationals. The Clovers do. The Toros come in second.

This is one of the most disciplined endings in any teen sports film. The genre conventions demand that the protagonists win. The film refuses. The Clovers were the better team with the more original material and the more deserved victory. The Toros gave their best performance with their first genuinely original routine. The performance was not enough to beat the Clovers, who had been doing their own work for years while the Toros were stealing it.

The script lets Torrance accept the second-place finish as honest rather than tragic. She did the work. The work was not enough this year. The work will continue. The Clovers were earned winners and Torrance recognizes this. The handshake between Torrance and Isis at the end of the competition is one of the most quietly satisfying moments in the film because both characters know exactly what just happened and neither pretends otherwise.

The Supporting Cast

Eliza Dushku plays Missy Pantone, the gymnast who transfers to Rancho Carne and is reluctantly recruited to fill an open Toros spot. The character is the film’s outsider perspective on the squad. Missy is good enough to perform at the cheerleading level but contemptuous of the culture. Dushku plays her with the kind of dry edge that gives the squad an internal critic who is also genuinely competent. The role established Dushku in the post-Buffy phase of her career and remains one of her best film performances.

Jesse Bradford plays Cliff Pantone, Missy’s brother and Torrance’s romantic interest. The performance is fine without being remarkable. The romantic subplot exists because teen movies require romantic subplots and the script does not give it enough texture to elevate it beyond the requirement. The strongest scenes between Cliff and Torrance are the ones that are not about romance: the mixtape exchange, the late-night conversations about cheerleading politics. The actual courtship beats are the film’s weakest material.

Lindsay Sloane plays Big Red, the graduated former captain, in flashbacks and brief return appearances. The performance is precisely calibrated. Big Red is depicted as gleefully unrepentant about the theft. She thinks the Toros’ success justifies the means. Sloane plays this without softening, which is correct. Big Red is the film’s clearest villain even though she is mostly off-screen.

Clare Kramer plays Courtney, the senior co-captain who challenges Torrance’s leadership. Nicole Bilderback plays Whitney as the other senior. The two of them function as the squad’s resistance to Torrance’s reforms. Both performances are solid. The supporting Toros are mostly archetypes but the script gives them enough specific lines that they register as individuals rather than as background.

The Cultural Impact

Bring It On was the breakout commercial success of the cheerleading film genre and remains the genre’s defining entry. The film grossed ninety million dollars on an eleven-million budget. It spawned five direct-to-video sequels that the original director and cast had nothing to do with: Bring It On Again in 2003, Bring It On: All or Nothing in 2006, Bring It On: In It to Win It in 2007, Bring It On: Fight to the Finish in 2009, and Bring It On: Worldwide #Cheersmack in 2017. None of the sequels are worth watching. The original is the canonical entry.

The film’s influence on subsequent teen comedy is substantial. The cheerleading film as a marketable genre essentially did not exist before Bring It On and has continued to produce entries because Bring It On proved the audience exists. Fired Up! in 2009 is the male-cheerleader satire that emerged from the genre Bring It On established. Cinemographic conventions for cheer competition staging, choreography filming, and squad-as-ensemble dynamics all trace back to Bring It On as the foundational text.

The film is also studied in academic contexts for its handling of race in mainstream teen cinema. The willingness to make the racial dynamic load-bearing rather than decorative, the discipline of letting the Black team win at the end, and the refusal to soften Big Red as a villain are all considered model choices for how white-protagonist films can address racial dynamics without falling into either preaching or evasion. The film does not solve race. The film acknowledges that race is operating and gives the consequences real weight. That is a more useful contribution than most films of its era managed.

Craft: Peyton Reed’s Directorial Career

The Verdict

An 8. Bring It On is one of the best teen films of the 2000s and the defining entry in the cheerleading film genre. Kirsten Dunst’s lead performance is one of her strongest. Gabrielle Union’s supporting role is one of the cleanest star-making turns of the era. Peyton Reed’s debut direction handles the racial-politics plot with the kind of precision most first features cannot manage. The script by Jessica Bendinger is structurally tight and morally honest. The choreography is real. The ending refuses the conventional victory and earns its second-place finish.

I have watched it twice. I would watch it again. The film holds up better than most teen comedies of its era specifically because the racial plot is load-bearing rather than decorative. The film does not preach. The film does not solve race. The film acknowledges that race operates and lets the consequences drive the action. That discipline is what separates Bring It On from films that perform racial awareness for marketing purposes. The 8 is honest and the film deserves it.

The five direct-to-video sequels are not worth watching. The original is the canonical entry. Skip everything after.

See also: Fired Up! (2009) review, the male-cheerleader satire that emerged from the genre Bring It On established. Both films are worth watching as paired examples of how the cheerleading film genre evolved across the 2000s.

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FAQ

Is Bring It On a “woke” film?

No. The racial plot at the center of the story is load-bearing rather than decorative. The Toros stole routines from the Clovers for years, the discovery of this fact is the protagonist’s inciting incident, and the resolution requires the protagonist to build legitimate original material rather than continuing to coast on stolen routines. The race plot generates the story. Remove the racial dynamic and there is no movie. This is different from films that add racial commentary as a layer on top of an unrelated plot. Bring It On is operating inside its racial dynamic rather than commenting on it from outside. The distinction matters because it is what makes the film honest rather than performative.

Who wrote the film?

Jessica Bendinger wrote the screenplay. She had been working as a music video writer and producer before this and Bring It On was her first feature screenplay. She went on to write Stick It (2006) about gymnastics, which she also directed, and several other projects. Bring It On remains her signature credit and the script is one of the tightest teen comedies of its era. Bendinger’s understanding of the cheerleading subculture came from spending time with real cheerleading squads during pre-production research.

Did the actors really do the cheerleading?

Mostly yes. The principal cast trained intensively for the choreography under real cheerleading consultants. The competition sequences feature the actors performing as much of the routine as their training allowed, with stunt performers covering the most dangerous tumbling and pyramid work. Kirsten Dunst, Eliza Dushku, and Gabrielle Union all performed extensive on-camera choreography. The training was one of the most demanding pre-production periods most of the cast had encountered. The physical reality of the performance is part of why the film has aged well visually.

Why does the Clovers winning at the end matter?

Because the racial plot would be undermined by any other outcome. The Toros had been stealing the Clovers’ routines for years. If the Toros had then beaten the Clovers at Nationals after developing their own original material, the film would have been arguing that the theft did not ultimately matter because the white squad’s resources and infrastructure would win out anyway. The Clovers winning is the only outcome that honors the premise. Torrance accepting the second-place finish is the only character arc that honors her growth. The ending is one of the most structurally disciplined choices in any teen sports film of its era.

How does this compare to Fired Up!?

Fired Up! (2009) is the male-cheerleader satire that emerged nine years later from the genre Bring It On established. The two films are different in tone (Fired Up is broader comedy, Bring It On is character drama with comedic register) and in stakes (Fired Up is essentially a hangout film, Bring It On is a competition film with racial-politics subtext). Both are worth watching. Bring It On is the better film and the foundational text. Fired Up is the looser companion piece. See the Fired Up! review for the longer discussion.

Are the sequels worth watching?

No. Five direct-to-video sequels followed the original: Bring It On Again (2003), Bring It On: All or Nothing (2006), Bring It On: In It to Win It (2007), Bring It On: Fight to the Finish (2009), and Bring It On: Worldwide #Cheersmack (2017). The original director, writer, and cast had nothing to do with any of them. The sequels are franchise extensions produced because the brand had value. None of them approach the original’s craft or moral seriousness. Skip them.

Who is Big Red?

Big Red is Torrance’s predecessor as Toros captain, depicted in flashbacks and brief return appearances. She is the captain who instituted the routine-stealing practice and continued it through her tenure. The character is depicted as cheerfully unrepentant about the theft. Lindsay Sloane plays her without softening, which is the correct choice. Big Red is the film’s clearest villain even though she is mostly off-screen. The character’s brief appearances are some of the script’s most efficient moments because each one further establishes how casually the theft was treated by the previous captain.

How did the film handle its budget?

Bring It On cost eleven million dollars and grossed ninety million domestically. The budget is visible in the film’s production decisions: real locations rather than constructed sets, real choreography rather than visual-effects-driven sequences, real competition staging rather than tournament-arena spectacle. The modest budget forced the production to commit to physical reality rather than spectacle. The commitment is part of why the film has aged well. CGI-heavy teen films from the same era look obviously dated. Bring It On still looks like a film about high school students at a competition.

Why is the film studied academically?

Because the handling of race is unusual for mainstream teen cinema. The willingness to make the racial dynamic load-bearing rather than decorative, the discipline of letting the Black team win at the end, and the refusal to soften Big Red as a villain are all considered model choices. The film does not solve race. The film acknowledges that race is operating and gives the consequences real weight. Academic discussion of the film often focuses on how Bring It On manages to address its central topic without falling into either preaching or evasion, which is harder than it sounds and which most films of the era did not manage successfully.

What is “spirit fingers”?

A signature movement invented by the choreographer Sparky Polastri in the film. The technique involves rapid hand-fluttering while the rest of the body remains in cheer pose. The sequence in which Sparky introduces spirit fingers to the Toros and demonstrates the technique with total seriousness is one of the most quoted comedy moments in the film. Ian Roberts plays Sparky as if spirit fingers is a genuine cheerleading innovation worthy of championship competition. The audience laughs because the gap between Sparky’s investment in the technique and the audience’s recognition of its absurdity is what generates the comedy.