“You’re Not a Human Being, You’re an Athlete”: Marta Prus’s OVER THE LIMIT
Before she steps onto the floor, gymnast Margarita Mamun slaps her elbows several times with an open palm, takes three sharp breaths, and utters what is either a prayer or a plea: “God help me!”
This routine will be performed with a hoop. Out on the mat, she leaps, pirouettes, and poses, spinning the hoop around her body and tossing it into the air. At one moment, she fluidly flips backwards, pausing mid-spin with one foot planted on the ground and the other held straight in the air, twirling the hoop around her ankle. Her grace is astonishing. The crowd roars its approval. So it’s alarming to hear her post-performance feedback.
“You were total crap today. Total crap. You shook like a leaf. You got points for pretty eyes.”
Earlier, during an interview with a camera crew, Mamun was asked about her personal goals. “We should push past our limits,” she responded.
But what does that take? How does one surpass one’s boundaries, reach full potential? This is a question asked by all serious athletes, coaches, and sports parents. It’s a question taken up in Marta Prus’s remarkable documentary Over the Limit, and one we’ll discuss after our screening on Thursday, May 2, during our conversation with Dr. Joel Fish, Director of the Center for Sport Psychology, and gymnast Polina Kositskiy, coach at the Philadelphia Rhythmic Academy.
Set in the world of Russian rhythmic gymnastics, Over the Limit follows Margarita Mamun through a circuit of international competitions during the lead up to the 2016 Olympics in Brazil. Distinct from artistic gymnastics (the discipline better known to most Americans), the sport combines gymnastics with elements of ballet and other dance practices. Its routines are often performed with an implement — hoop, ball, club, ribbon, or rope.
To succeed at an elite level requires incredible coordination, strength, and flexibility. This is to say nothing of the psychological fortitude necessary to undergo the rigorous training regimen. More than her athletic feats, Over the Limit is focused on this test of mental endurance. Throughout the film, we have plenty of opportunities to observe Mamun in action, but its most memorable sections take place in the spaces between competitions — backstage, in training facilities, doctors’ offices, and hotels. She practices, swims, stretches, practices more. She seems to exist in a state of perpetual exhaustion. We get only a glimpse of her life outside the sport. Her containment is so profound that it’s jarring to see her swarmed by a group of fans, eager for pictures and photographs, reminding us that she is, in fact, a celebrity.
At nearly every moment, she is under pressure, urged to keep going, dig deeper, be better. Her personal coach, former Olympian Amira Zaripovna, is by turns deeply tender and incredibly harsh. (“You’re stupid! Can’t you do at least one thing right?”) Even more intimidating is Irina Viner-Usmanova, the gaudily-dressed head of Russia’s rhythmic gymnastics program, who delivers a constant, profane stream of withering critique. “We need to train her like a dog,” she tells Zaripova. “She must work, work, and work so that she’s on her last legs when she goes out.”
The recurring point of criticism is Mamun’s focus. There seems to be something on her mind, an external presence that breaks her concentration and makes her tremble during her routines. As we come to learn, there is. Once the matter comes to the attention of Viner-Usmanova, it too becomes fodder for the training process. “ Tragedy! Tragedy! Talk about everything!” she urges Mamun as the gymnast practices an expressive hoop routine. “Don’t be a coward! Talk! Talk! Talk! Send your prayers to God!”
In its review, Variety called Over The Limit “The Black Swan of sports documentaries,” referencing Darren Aronofsky’s 2010 ballet-themed psychodrama. To me, a more apt comparison is Damien Chazelle’s Whiplash, which featured J.K. Simmons as a ruthless drum instructor driving a talented student to the physical and emotional brink.
Is this approach to training effective? You’ll have to watch the film to find out (or else google Mamun’s record). Is it right? This is a harder question to answer. “You’re not a human being, you’re an athlete,” Mamun’s coach instructs her. But the documentary shows us something quite to the contrary — a truly human experience.
This screening is part of the Science on Screen® program, an initiative of the Coolidge Corner Theatre with major support from the Alfred P. Sloan Foundation.
See you at the movies!
— Jacob Mazer, Special Programming Manager, BMFI
