(L-R) Brittney Griner and Alexandria Stapleton attend “The Brittney Griner Story ” Premiere during the 2026 Sundance Film Festival at The Ray Theatre on January 27, 2026 in Park City, Utah. (Photo by Arturo Holmes/Getty Images)

By Adam Silverstein

Director Alexandria Stapleton barely gets her first sentence out before her voice cracks. “I’m going to cry,” she says, laughing at herself. “I don’t ever cry. This has been an emotional journey.” She pauses, looks out at the packed Ray Theatre, and then delivers the line that detonates the room: “It’s so exciting that BG is here.”

The applause is immediate and thunderous. Brittney Griner stands up in the middle of the theater, visibly moved, nodding and smiling as the crowd rises with her. It’s been just over three years since Griner walked out of a Russian penal colony, and watching her take in this moment — not on a court, not in uniform, but as herself — sets the tone for The Brittney Griner Story, a documentary that refuses to turn her into a headline or a symbol.

The film screens in the 2026 Sundance Film Festival’s Premieres section and unfolds with purpose. This isn’t just a recounting of events; it’s a reclamation. The documentary meticulously traces the chain reaction that began in February 2022, when Griner was detained at a Moscow airport for carrying less than a gram of cannabis oil — legally prescribed to her in the U.S. — while playing overseas during the WNBA offseason.

The shock of that day is reconstructed through interviews with Griner’s family, friends, lawyers, and agents. One minute she’s an elite athlete navigating an unequal sports economy that pushes many WNBA players abroad to make a living; the next, she’s a pawn in an international standoff. As Russia invades Ukraine, the stakes escalate fast. Griner’s case is debated loudly and often cruelly back home, where her gender, race, sexuality, and fame are all weaponized.

Stapleton moves the documentary backward and forward in time, tracing Griner’s tomboy childhood, her rise to basketball superstardom, and her relationship with her wife, Cherelle. There’s tenderness here, especially in the home videos and quiet moments, that offsets the coldness of prison footage and courtroom proceedings. The film doesn’t shy away from the harsh realities of her detention: the isolation, the labor colony, the nine-year sentence that ultimately became nearly ten months behind bars.

What makes The Brittney Griner Story hit as hard as it does is its refusal to simplify. The argument that Griner’s detention was “legal” under Russian law is presented plainly. The criticism of President Joe Biden’s decision to prioritize Griner’s release in a prisoner swap — over a U.S. Marine imprisoned in Russia for far longer — is acknowledged head-on. Stapleton lets the audience sit with the discomfort of these debates.

When Griner speaks during the post-premiere Q&A, the room quiets completely. “It was my first time watching it,” she says. “It was emotional. I’m glad the lights were off. It just felt right.” 

Asked if she plans to travel now, Griner is blunt. “I’m staying right here,” she smiles. “I have no plans on going abroad.” She adds that she worries about WNBA players who still feel compelled to play overseas. “I’m in no position to decide what they do. I just hope someday they don’t have to go abroad.”

As the night wraps up, The Brittney Griner Story leaves a lasting impression. Through Stapleton’s thoughtful direction and Griner’s bravery, the film reclaims Griner’s narrative, humanizing a complex journey. This is her story: raw, unfiltered, and unapologetic.