This interview has been edited for clarity.
By the time Spin Wars premiered at Tribeca, it already felt like a film in motion, propelled by nostalgia, ambition, and a cultural energy that refuses to sit still. For first-time director Philip Byron, the documentary isn’t just about boutique fitness. It’s about the ecosystems we build—and the ones that, eventually, begin to define us.
“I really loved the film,” I tell him, admitting that indoor cycling has always existed, for me, more as a cultural curiosity than a lived experience. That reaction, it turns out, is precisely what Byron hoped for.
“There are so many people who hear ‘indoor cycling’ and kind of grimace,” he says. “So it was always about—how do you make them want to watch?”
It’s a deceptively simple question, and one that ultimately shaped not just Spin Wars, but Byron’s decision to step behind the camera himself.
A World He Already Knew
Before Spin Wars, Byron had established himself as a producer across high-profile documentary and sports projects. But his connection to this story began much earlier—back when he was simply a recent graduate in New York, discovering spin classes alongside friends.
“I discovered indoor cycling right out of college,” he recalls. “We’d go to New York Sports Club… it was just something fun to do.”
That casual introduction evolved after his move to Los Angeles in 2012, where SoulCycle had quickly become synonymous with a certain kind of aspirational lifestyle. Byron didn’t just take classes—he became part of the culture.
“I actually became an instructor,” he says. “And I loved it.”
The role felt familiar. With a background in theater, Byron approached each class like a performance. “It really felt like putting on a mini-show,” he explains. “The difference is you’re the show on the bike.”
For years, Byron lived in both worlds simultaneously: instructor and producer. Spin Wars feels like the natural intersection of those identities.
The project came into focus at SpringHill, when a colleague suggested a documentary about SoulCycle.
“She said, ‘Should we do a SoulCycle doc?’” Byron remembers. “And I said, ‘Do you know who Ruth Zukerman is?’”
Zukerman’s story (often sidelined in broader narratives about the brand) became the film’s emotional core. “Once I told her, it clicked immediately,” he says. “It was like, okay, this is the story.”
Stepping Behind the Camera
Initially, Byron set out to produce, not direct. But as meetings with potential filmmakers unfolded, a pattern emerged. “A lot of people just didn’t get it,” he says. “They were like, ‘Spin? Indoor cycling?’”
For him, the disconnect only sharpened his sense of purpose. “It’s so woven into my DNA,” he explains. “I just thought, I can do this.” The shift felt inevitable, and, at the same time, daunting. “Once everyone agreed, I had that moment of—oh, I just signed up for this,” he says. “It was definitely scary, but it also felt right.”
What followed was an immersive creative process that proved difficult to step away from. “I was up till the wee hours working on it,” he says. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”
Rather than present a single narrative, Spin Wars unfolds as a layered portrait of an industry. Byron structured the film around distinct perspectives—riders, instructors, corporate voices, and journalists—to capture its full scope.
“I always thought about it in buckets,” he explains. “Each one represents a different side of the ecosystem.”
The first round of interviews, filmed in New York over an intense three-day stretch, gathered foundational voices including Zukerman, Marian Salzman, Katie Couric, and writer Jill Kargman. But it was during the edit that the film found its tonal sharpness.
“What Jill really showed me is how funny this world is,” Byron says. “People want their tea in documentaries now, but they also want to be entertained.” That realization shaped a second wave of interviews, bringing in comedic voices like Heather McMahon and Mary Beth Barone; both former insiders. The shift adds an unexpected levity, reframing the culture through humor as much as critique. “It became an embarrassment of riches,” Byron admits.
More Than Fitness
Though rooted in spin culture, Spin Wars ultimately transcends its subject. Byron was always conscious of making the film accessible; especially for viewers who might never set foot in a studio. “There are so many people who don’t do this world at all,” he says. “So the question was always: how do you make it bigger than that?”
It’s a philosophy reflected throughout his producing career. Despite working on numerous sports projects, Byron readily admits, “I’m really not a sports guy. Like, I don’t know anything about sports.”
What draws him in isn’t the surface topic, it’s the story beneath it. “I always ask, what’s the version of this that connects with someone like me, or someone who doesn’t think they care?”
He points to a series about NBA player J.R. Smith returning to college as an example. “On paper, it’s not something everyone would chase,” he says. “But the idea of a second act—that’s what’s interesting.”
That sense of reinvention runs through Spin Wars, where ambition and identity blur against the backdrop of rapid corporate growth.
A Tribeca Homecoming
If Spin Wars is a story born in New York, its Tribeca premiere felt like a homecoming.
“The response was insane,” Byron says. “I wasn’t surprised—these companies are such a part of the fabric of the city.”
The audience reflected that connection. Screenings quickly sold out, with additional showtimes added as demand grew. Viewers arrived not just as filmgoers, but as participants—many wearing SoulCycle or Flywheel gear, treating the screening like a reunion.
“There were people in merch from all these studios; it really felt like this community coming back together,” Byron says.
The energy in the room, he recalls, was palpable, laughter landing in familiar beats, knowing reactions rippling through the crowd as industry details surfaced onscreen. Even for those less familiar with the world, the response remained engaged and curious, mirroring Byron’s intention to widen the film’s reach.
“It was like people wanted to sign up for class again the next morning,” he adds with a laugh.
For Byron, the most emotional moments came afterward, watching his subjects (particularly Zukerman and Marian) receive long-overdue recognition. “I shot those interviews in 2022,” he says. “So it had been four years. For them, it was like revisiting something they’d already processed.”
For all its specificity, Spin Wars ultimately succeeds by expanding beyond its niche. It’s a film about ambition, reinvention, and the tension between community and corporate scale. “My goal is always to think about someone who wouldn’t normally watch this,” Byron says. “How do you bring them in?”
That guiding principle quietly shapes the entire film. Byron doesn’t just document this world, he translates it, making space for viewers who exist outside of it.
And in doing so, he proves that even the most insular subcultures can resonate- “if you find the story at the center of it,” he says.
We want to thank Philip Byron for taking the time to speak with us.
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