THE STORY – The story of Christy Martin, the most successful female boxer of the 90s.
THE CAST – Sydney Sweeney, Ben Foster, Merritt Wever & Katy O’Brian
THE TEAM – David Michôd (Director/Writer) & Mirrah Foulkes (Writer)
THE RUNNING TIME – 135 Minutes
Actresses have been de-glamming themselves to curry favor with awards bodies for decades, going without makeup and playing unsavory characters in the hope that their perceived lack of vanity will endear them to their public and peers, proving that they’re more than just a pretty face. Sydney Sweeney doesn’t need to prove that she can act; her dual Emmy nominations for “Euphoria” and “The White Lotus” were well-deserved just for the range she showed between them. But after disparaging reviews for recent projects like “Madame Web” and “Anyone But You,” perhaps she felt the need to remind people that she’s the real deal. Hence, “Christy,” the inspirational true-life sports drama about pioneering women’s boxer Christy Martin. Playing Martin requires a level of commitment from Sweeney that no other project has asked of her, and she delivers, beefing up her body and donning an unflattering 80s-style mullet to play the greatest female boxer of all time. While her physical performance in the ring is believable enough, it’s her emotional commitment outside it that really sets her and the film apart from the dozens of other generic boxing movies the film industry has given us over the years.
Director and co-writer David Michôd opens the film with a perfectly 1989 splash as the camera slowly pulls out from Sweeney’s face while Tears for Fears’ “Head Over Heels” plays on the soundtrack. The anticipatory excitement on her face will become a familiar sight over the next two hours, because every time Christy steps into the ring, she feels the exhilaration of being great at the thing she knows she’s meant to do. Her family doesn’t seem too enthused with her victory, though; mother Joyce (Merritt Wever) accosts her daughter about recent gossip surrounding her and her “best friend” Rosie (Jess Gabor). Joyce loves her daughter and wants her to live a normal, happy life, so when a boxing promoter offers to set her up with a job, a place to live, and a trainer, she encourages her to take him up on it, despite trainer Jim Martin (Ben Foster) blowing her off at their first meeting. Christy’s mean left hook perks him up, though, and before long, nice family man Jim has bedded his young trainee and asked her to marry him. As Christy’s stock in the boxing world rises to the point where Don King himself takes an interest, Jim reveals his darker side, dragging Christy down a dark path that may kill her.
Michôd directs the film solidly but unexceptionally, focusing on keeping things moving at a quick enough pace to get through all the material. Thankfully, he still manages to give the emotional moments enough space to breathe, letting Sweeney and Foster dig into their characters. That sadly doesn’t extend to the boxing scenes, which bob and weave around the ring and choose their moments to hit hard, much like Christy herself does, but without any emotional pull. They’re fun enough to watch, capturing the aggressive energy of a boxing match, but it’s hard to get invested in them without that. These scenes should hit as hard as Christy does, but it feels like Michôd pulls his punches a bit to make something more like his subject, who says that she feels peaceful in the ring because it’s where she feels most at home.
Outside the ring, the performers provide the emotional connection missing from the boxing scenes. Foster hollows himself out as Jim, going dead behind the eyes and keeping his speaking voice barely above a mumble. Jim clearly knows that Christy is out of his league, and Foster turns on a dime between pathetic schlubbiness and aggressively toxic masculinity in a downright bone-chilling way. It’s part of the point that Jim and Christy don’t have great chemistry as a couple, and the two performers lean into that, building a relationship that makes sense when Jim is just Christy’s coach, but sours awkwardly when they get married. The age gap, heightened by Foster’s uncanny makeup job, is uncomfortable enough, but it’s not just that. One of the film’s more surprisingly successful story threads is about heteronormative societal pressure and how it can eat away at you, forcing you into lifestyle choices that don’t fit. Sweeney plays this subtly but powerfully as Christy puts on a facade both in the ring and at home. It’s a difficult dance to pull off, but Sweeney shows how this wears on Christy as the years go on, moving as though she’s carrying more weight on her back with every scene until things finally reach a breaking point.
If you don’t know Martin’s story, what happens to her will come as a shock. Michôd directs the climactic sequence unflinchingly but also with restraint, knowing how difficult it will be to watch. Sweeney doesn’t shy away from the emotion of the moment, either, throwing herself completely into the character’s fragile headspace and delivering an emotional knockout of a performance. The film around her isn’t quite up to her level (or, frankly, the level that Martin deserves), but at least it’s written and directed smartly, with great care taken to never tip over into hagiography. The film’s powerful message will resonate strongly with audiences, and while its conventional nature holds it back from true greatness, it makes the most of its strongest elements.
