Written by Jessica Bendinger, Bring It On<\/i> is primarily a movie about cheerleading, and its central relationship is between Rancho Carne High School head cheerleader Torrance Shipman (Kirsten Dunst) and new recruit Missy Pantone (Eliza Dushku), a jaded former gymnast who learns to appreciate the athleticism and camaraderie of cheerleading. Torrance\u2019s burgeoning romance with Missy\u2019s brother Cliff (Jesse Bradford) is less important than her efforts to lead the Rancho Carne Toros to another national cheerleading championship, but it dovetails nicely with the movie\u2019s themes of respect and empowerment. <\/span><\/p>\n Torrance\u2019s bond with Missy grows over the course of the movie as well, and it\u2019s one of professional respect as much as friendship. Missy is the one who shows Torrance that her predecessor as head cheerleader, Big Red (Lindsay Sloane), had been ripping off all her cheers from the East Compton Clovers, a squad at an urban high school that doesn\u2019t benefit from the same privileges as the Toros. Just as Torrance values Missy\u2019s respect, she feels the same way about Clovers captain Isis (Gabrielle Union), and the entire cheerleading plot is about Torrance doing the right thing (coming up with original cheers) in order to compete fairly in the national championships.<\/span><\/p>\n That makes Bring It On<\/i> one of the best sports movies ever made, with its emphasis on teamwork, respect and fair play, placing love of the sport — a sport that is unjustly maligned by people who don\u2019t understand it, like Torrance\u2019s snotty little brother — above the desire to win. Torrance\u2019s whole identity is tied up in the Toros (even the team\u2019s name is essentially a shortened version of her own name), which means that the team\u2019s integrity comes directly from her own inner sense of right and wrong.<\/span><\/p>\n That\u2019s not to say that Bring It On<\/i> is some dull object lesson in sportsmanship; it\u2019s still a goofy late-\u201990s-style teen comedy, with a few instances of homophobic and sexual-assault humor that have not aged well. But the performances (especially from Dunst, who makes Torrance likable and thoughtful and a blast to spend time with) are strong, the cheerleading sequences are impressive, and the message is quietly powerful. As a director, Reed often just gets out of the way of the writing, but he also knows when to add some visual flair, like in an early locker-room sequence with a roving camera that introduces all of the major cheerleader characters, and in a sweet moment between Torrance and Cliff as they both drift off to sleep, thinking of each other, as they appear face to face in a split-screen shot.<\/span><\/p>\n That split-screen shot of two characters who are obviously meant to fall in love, lying in separate beds but positioned onscreen to face each other, recalls the kinds of shots that might frame the main characters in one of the Rock Hudson\/Doris Day romantic comedies of the 1950s and \u201960s, paving the way for Reed\u2019s next feature, the equally delightful Down with Love<\/i>. Down with Love<\/i> is a full-on pastiche of those Hudson\/Day movies, trifles like Pillow Talk<\/i> and Lover Come Back<\/i>, with a level of wit and ingenious plotting that recalls the works of Preston Sturges<\/a> and a visual inventiveness reminiscent of Frank Tashlin<\/a>. <\/span><\/p>\n Romance takes center stage here, in the story of author Barbara Novak (Ren\u00e9e Zellweger) and journalist Catcher Block (Ewan McGregor), who engage in multiple levels of deception in order to seduce and\/or destroy each other, only to end up happily in love in a thoroughly unpredictable (and yet inevitable) way. Set in 1962, Down with Love<\/i> shares its title with Barbara\u2019s revolutionary self-help book, which advises women to avoid falling in love and instead engage in casual sex so that they can focus on developing their careers rather than becoming housewives. In the movie\u2019s world, Barbara\u2019s book is so successful that she nearly changes the entire gender dynamic of the country, as women all across America start demanding equality in the bedroom and the boardroom.<\/span><\/p>\n Incorrigible cad Catcher, who writes for a GQ-style men\u2019s magazine called Know, is determined to expose Barbara as a fraud, and he concocts an elaborate plan to get her to fall in love with him, passing himself off as a na\u00efve, absurdly wholesome astronaut named Zip Martin. Barbara and Catcher\u2019s ridiculous courtship is full of whip-smart double entendres, which have no need to hide their obvious sexual connotations for the benefit of the Hays Code<\/a>. The characters are always impeccably dressed in perfectly color-coordinated outfits, and the sets are pure design porn for mid-century modern enthusiasts.<\/span><\/p>\n![\"\"](\"https:\/\/crookedmarquee.com\/stage8\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/07\/bringitontoothbrush.jpg\")
<\/a>As jaded as his sister, Cliff wears T-shirts for old-school punk bands and spends his free time playing rock guitar, but he\u2019s never condescending to Torrance about her dedication to cheerleading, and his genuine support of her is one of the main reasons that he\u2019s such an appealing love interest (both to Torrance and to the audience). Torrance and Cliff\u2019s best scene together doesn\u2019t involve any witty banter: It\u2019s the silent interplay between them as they brush their teeth side by side one night when Torrance is having a sleepover with Missy. At first they\u2019re shy about this disarmingly intimate act, and Torrance tries to be ladylike as she spits into the sink, covering her mouth with her hand. But when Cliff brazenly spits his toothpaste, she follows his lead, demonstrating their growing comfort and ease with each other without either of them speaking a word.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\n