The Unfinished Portrait of Megan Rapinoe

Megan Rapinoe’s documentary debut is a film that feels more like an introduction to its subject than a comprehensive exploration. Director Rebeca Huntt’s relaxed approach and Rapinoe’s radiant presence make the documentary engaging and inspiring, but its timing also renders it necessarily incomplete.

The documentary focuses on Rapinoe’s life after her retirement from playing in 2023, making it feel like the first chapter of a two-part story. The film cuts a straightforward path through Rapinoe’s life, using old home movies, news reports, game footage, and interviews both existing and new. Even for those who’ve never followed Rapinoe or her sport closely, the documentary still manages to capture a sense of intimacy.

Huntt uses warm grain visuals and digital captions reminiscent of ’90s camcorder footage to give the film a raw and private feel. Interviews with loved ones like Rapinoe’s parents, her twin sister Rachael, and ex Sue Bird are also included, but it’s Rapinoe herself who comes across as the most authentically persuasive element.

Rapinoe has never been one to camouflage or censor herself, and this documentary is no exception. She grins readily, jokes around unself-consciously, and speaks frankly about her thoughts and emotions, even sharing some regrets. Her discussion of “disassociation” – both its protective power and how it has kept her from fully feeling her emotions – is particularly compelling.

Rapinoe reveals that she began therapy in recent years to strip disassociation of its armor, making it harder for her to be in the moment. The film suggests that this newfound tendency toward self-reflection may have even contributed to her missed penalty kick at the 2023 World Cup. However, Rapinoe declines to articulate precisely what it means by disassociation, leaving the audience wondering about the implications of this insight into her psychology.

Rapinoe’s awareness of her platform and its power to rouse or lead others is evident throughout the film. In one of the final scenes, she reminds us of our own agency, encouraging viewers to reflect on what they plan to do with their “wild and precious life.” The documentary ends with a Mary Oliver poem, but it feels like Rapinoe is still writing her own story – and that’s where this chapter leaves off.

The incomplete portrait of Megan Rapinoe highlights the complexities of publicly exploring personal growth and self-discovery. As she navigates this new phase of her life, she invites us to reflect on our own journeys and how we choose to share them with others. The documentary may not provide all the answers, but it offers a starting point for a more nuanced understanding of what it means to be an athlete, an activist, and a person.

Rapinoe’s example serves as a reminder that growth is often messy and incomplete – and that’s okay. We don’t need a comprehensive, definitive portrait of her life; instead, we’re given a glimpse into the ongoing process of self-discovery, and that’s what makes this documentary so compelling. As Rapinoe herself says, “I know who I am and I like who I am.” The rest is up to us – and that’s where the real work begins.

The unfinished portrait of Megan Rapinoe leaves us with more questions than answers. But it’s precisely these questions that make this documentary so vital and thought-provoking. As we watch Rapinoe navigate her next chapter, we’re reminded that our own lives are similarly full of unfinished stories – and it’s up to us to continue writing them.