‘I Wanted to Be One of Them’: Why Bring It On is the feel-good movie | film

TThe opening sequence of Bring It On is – in a word – unapologetic. There are dozens of fans screaming in unison: “I’m hot, I’m cute, I’m super popular” – and I’ve yet to meet anyone (and I’ve tried) with the willpower to look away.

It’s certainly not an exaggeration to say that I wanted to be one of them – a member of the Toros’ first cheerleading team, Rancho Carney High School. But, as a six-year-old watching in North London, I was far removed from the abundance of herkis, suggestive dance moves, and hair flips of competitive cheerleading in San Diego.

For the uninitiated (and those who haven’t yet watched me enjoy this gift of a movie), the Toros are the reigning champions of the high school cheerleading world, with five national championships under their belt, and they’re poised to clinch the No. 6 spot. Their outgoing leader, the ruthless and self-satisfied Big Red, passes the baton to Torrance (Kirsten Dunst), the bright-eyed, dour-but-obsessive new leader whose ambitious plans include recruiting jaded new girl and disillusioned former gymnast Missy (Eliza Dushku).

But as a city transplant, suspicious of the weary enthusiasm of San Diego’s suburbs, Missy quickly recognizes her new team’s performance for what it is: a tattered, whitewashed version of an all-black ensemble routine: the East Compton Clovers. Their captain, Isis (played by Gabrielle Union), tells Torrance that her ancestor has been blatantly stealing their moves for years. “I know you didn’t think a white girl did that nonsense,” Isis scolds the Taurus. The Clovers are done lying down and plan to go on to win big at the national level, while exposing the Toros as infiltrators.

Torrance is shocked that their victories are merely rewards for plagiarism, and leads her team through a cheerful intervention in an attempt to learn a truly original routine. She finds an ally in Missy, a male love interest in new man Cliff (played by Jesse Bradford, an early August mainstay), and challenges her team to shake off their toxic attitudes. But the real balm of this film is that our heroes are never rewarded. In fact, the Toros lose outright. There’s no hero’s journey, no relief from trying to do the right thing, and no actual sense of being the good guys. In fact, every time we see the Clovers perform they shine brighter than the Taurus.

The film was, in many ways, the first of its kind. It was one of the few films during the rush of teen comedies that spanned the late 1990s to mid-2000s to highlight cheerleading, while also poking fun at its self-seriousness and apparent triviality. But she also used the sport as a way to talk about cultural appropriation long before it became common language in long-form readings and university seminars.

This may be where Dunst shines in the film: she is the epitome of a guilty young white woman, “always trying to do the right thing,” but who often seems tone-deaf. When she learned that the Clovers might not be able to afford to travel to Florida to compete in the final tournament, she insisted that her father’s company sponsor them to ensure they would have a chance to compete. Isis rejects the offer, tears up the check in her face, and assures Torrance that her team does not need the “guilt money.” Instead, in an utterly cliched moment in Jessica Bender’s wonderful script, Isis tells the Taurus to “bring her up” and not “slack” because they might feel guilty about the Clover’s. “This way, when we beat you, we’ll know it’s because we’re the best,” she says. Released in 2000, amidst the post-Clueless flood of high school-set films that routinely featured beat-em-ups for their blonde leading ladies, the film still feels underrated. For Torrance and her team, second place is what they deserve, and it’s what they get.

On repeated rewatches, I remember the supporting characters giving some of the film’s best performances. Dushku’s quick wit and chronic sarcasm remind you that she’s been extremely vulnerable throughout her career, while Union sheds the sidekick she’s endured in previous performances, dominating every scene as a leader willing to set an example for a team that was taking advantage of her routine. This is all the more powerful considering that it was more than a decade before social media callouts became a tool to hold people accountable for stealing the work of Black creators.

While there have been several silly direct-to-video sequels that don’t capture a modicum of the camp or grit of the original film, thankfully there aren’t any plans for an actual reboot. There doesn’t seem to be any need to imagine what Torrance is doing now, whether she’s coaching the team herself, or whether the Clovers win another championship. I’m glad the story ended the way it did in the movie – with the actors lip-syncing to Toni Basil’s cover version of Mickey as the credits roll.