The story transcends the Kerrigan attack in its examination of Tonya Harding and her life, highlighting parental and domestic abuse, as well as the superficial injustices that occur in the sport. It doesn’t completely exonerate Harding for her potential involvement in the assault, but it does make you sympathize with her and the circumstances surrounding her untimely demise. Between her mother’s verbal abuse, Gillooly’s physical violence, and the elitist classism of the skating world, Harding never had much of a chance, yet she was able to transcend her unfortunate circumstances and rise to the top. The fact that Harding’s skating career — the only thing she loved, the only thing that was hers, the only thing she was good at — was taken from her because of her a dumb decision on her then-husband’s part makes her downfall all the more devastating. But don’t get it confused, the film is actually quite amusing and uplifting despite the tragedy of its story, thanks to the film’s invigorating pacing and direction.

Gillespie’s direction relies on a lot of movement, mostly trucks in or away from a subject, but he's also versatile enough to pivot and change direction with each digression and character interruption. The film also leans on its score, consisting of classic rock jams, as a source of energy and inspiration/motivation for camera movements, culminating in some very Scorsese-esque montages. The score helps the film find it’s core kinetic feeling, but the selections are often a little too on nose and tend to bury the dialogue at times. The fast and flawless pacing can be accredited to editor Tatiana Riegel, who worked with Gillespie in the past on Lars and the Real Girl, Finest Hour and the Fright Night remake. Her edits reinforce the graceful and figure skater-like musicality of Gillespie’s direction and tie everything neatly together.