That was the case for filmmaker Cristina Costantini. Her documentary “Sally,” which premiered at Sundance, is an ode to her childhood hero. It will likely be broadcast Monday at 9 p.m. on Nationwide Geographic earlier than streaming on Hulu and Disney+.
“I have been a fan of Sally since I was a little kid,” the filmmaker says on a teleconference name alongside Trip’s longtime companion, Tam O’Shaughnessy. “I painted a mural of her that still exists on my elementary school wall. I did a book report about her. The equation was simple: Seeing a woman doing big, brave things that women weren’t supposed to be doing made me think that maybe I could do big things, too.”
Director Cristina Costantini on the set of the studio re-creation of the STS-7 launch.
(Parker Hill / Nationwide Geographic)
However “Sally” isn’t only a portrait of how a younger Dodgers fan from Encino with wild ambitions made her strategy to NASA and have become, as Costantini jokingly places it, “the very first Valley girl in space.” As an alternative, the documentary threads that well-known story with a personal one about how Trip saved her almost three-decade relationship with O’Shaughnessy a secret till her loss of life from most cancers in 2012, when Trip’s obituary made it public.
Now, “Sally” places their love story entrance and heart. Dramatizations, love letters, pictures and residential movies paint a portrait of a cheerful couple who squirreled a life for themselves away from the general public eye. Trip’s sexuality shouldn’t be handled merely as a footnote to her story, and the documentary asks viewers to grasp why the astronaut opted to cordon off part of her life and stay inside a closet of her personal making.
“I was worried that the film might be too hard on Sally,” O’Shaughnessy admits.
“Why couldn’t she come out and‘oh, poor Tam’ and all that, you know?” she asks rhetorically. “But that’s not how it comes across. The fact of the matter is when Sally and I got together in the mid-‘80s, it was a little dangerous to be open. You could miss out on lots of opportunities with your career, with projects you wanted to be involved in.”
And like then, it feels dicey once more immediately to be out, she says. “But I think it’s really good for young viewers of the film to see that there were good reasons for Sally and I to not be open to the public.”
Tam O’Shaughnessy, Sally Trip’s companion for almost 30 years.
(Michael Latham/Nationwide Geographic)
For context, “Sally” provides two different modern coming-out narratives: these of Billie Jean King, whom Trip and O’Shaughnessy met throughout their tennis-playing years, and Karen “Bear” Trip, Sally’s sister. The previous misplaced endorsements after her secretary outed her simply as her tennis profession was flourishing; the opposite was a trailblazing lesbian Presbyterian minister who advocated for the LGBTQ+ neighborhood. The experiences of King and Trip’s sister, the doc suggests, influenced how and why the astronaut selected to marry a person whereas working at NASA — Steven Hawley, who seems within the movie — and later determined to stay a quiet, non-public life with O’Shaughnessy.
Over the course of her profession, Trip encountered sexism and misogyny from her friends and the press alike (“In your training, when there was a problem, how did you respond? Did you weep?” she was requested at a press convention). Consequently, viewers may start to grasp why the famed astronaut selected to keep away from additional scrutiny, and certain homophobia, due to her public-facing position as NASA’s poster lady.
Whereas the documentary neither castigates Trip for her decisions nor absolves her of the thorny calculations she’d made to construct the life she wished for herself, “Sally” is a poignant reminder that it’s not all the time simple to parse questions on visibility and illustration.
So in her absence, O’Shaughnessy tries to set the report straight. Costantini’s emphasis on their relationship in “Sally” goals to indicate the way it was integral to Trip’s storied legacy.
“I think the kind of bravery that Sally had was the kind of bravery that as a kid you understand,” Costantini explains. “Going up on basically a bomb into space — that’s pretty scary in the moment and scary in a physical way. So as a kid, you have a fascination and appreciation for it.
“But Tam’s kind of bravery — the ability to say who you are, even if you are hated for it, to have the moral courage to be who you were born to be, to tell the truth — I think that, as an adult, is a much harder thing to do,” she provides.
As a portrait of a trailblazer, Costantini’s movie reveals us that heroes are fallible. Studying about their humanity and the methods they wrestled with making their approach on this world could be as eye-opening as it’s enriching to their legacy.
“The project of the film is to place you in the history books alongside your amazing life partner,” Costantini tells O’Shaughnessy, combating again tears. “There’s something about seeing you celebrated for the beautiful love story that you two had together, in public, that always gets me.”
“Even though Sally wasn’t verbally out and definitely not out publicly, she still lived her life exactly the way she wanted to live it,” O’Shaughnessy says. “She did the things she wanted to do. She loved the people she wanted to love. She was true to herself.”
