Christy

by Mike McGranaghan

I couldn’t tell you how many movies about boxers I’ve seen. It’s a lot. I can, however, say that I’ve never been more compelled by one than I was by Christy, the biopic of female boxing champ Christy Martin. On the surface, the film might seem like a typical underdog story. In fact, it’s so much more than that. What this woman endures outside the ring is way worse, and ultimately more inspiring, than anything occurring inside. Without a doubt, her life is the basis for one of the best pictures I’ve seen this year.

When we first meet Christy (Sydney Sweeney), she’s a teenager living in West Virginia. Mom Joyce (Merritt Wever) and father John (Ethan Embry) are not too happy about the fact that their daughter is clearly attracted to girls. After winning a local fight, she receives an offer to work with a professional trainer. That ends up being Jim Martin (Ben Foster). He doesn’t particularly like women and he definitely doesn’t like gay women. Christy is sufficiently driven to win several bouts, leading him to change his tune. She’s a potential cash cow, especially once legendary promoter Don King (Chad Coleman) takes her on.

Like the recent The Fire Inside, Christy deals with the glass ceiling being shattered in women’s sports. There’s extra poignancy because of the character’s sexuality and the resistance it brings in some quarters. She has two glass ceilings to bust through. The film shrewdly conveys that Christy harbors innate resentment about how she’s viewed – resentment she can use to her advantage once the gloves are on. A subplot involving her changing interactions with another female fighter, Lisa Holewyne (Katy O’Brian), helps illustrate the personal journey she makes.

Christy’s biggest hurdle is Jim. This is where the movie proves most riveting. Constantly taking advantage of her, Jim goes so far as to pressure Christy into marrying him. The story goes into harrowing detail about how he jealously manipulates and uses her, how he makes her doubt herself, and how he exerts total control. In this regard, Christy is like Star 80 with boxing. As if the character doesn’t have enough barriers to overcome, she’s trapped in a poisonous relationship with a man who doesn’t respect her and only cares about what she can provide to him. The portrait of abuse is so precisely detailed that it may make you gasp in spots.

Astonishing performances allow all the picture’s elements to fully resonate. Sydney Sweeney sets the screen on fire as Christy Martin. She transforms herself physically, but the real magic is the vibrancy she infuses the character with. Through Sweeney’s efforts, we feel her passion for fighting, as well as the way it fills a void in her life. The actress breaks your heart in the most devastating scenes, too. As Jim, Ben Foster creates one of the biggest cinematic SOBs of modern times. He mines every conflicting ounce of ambition and pettiness that drive this pathetic man, all while maintaining authenticity. Guys like this exist, and Foster has their number. He and Sweeney both deserve Oscar nominations.

Director David Michôd (The King) stages the boxing matches with high energy, often using era-appropriate pop songs to accentuate their fierceness. Husband/wife and mother/daughter scenes, meanwhile, powerfully emphasize the psychological effect they have on Christy. Michôd expertly balances the film’s tone, making it triumphant when it needs to be and disturbing when it must.

Christy is, at a fundamental level, the true story of a woman rising above the struggles life throws at her. The gritty realism of the movie makes that register in a manner it rarely does onscreen. Each victory Christy Martin achieves is hard-earned, and you feel the blood, sweat, and tears she invests in discovering herself. This is a magnificent motion picture that avoids the typical underdog platitudes. It hits with the force of a knockout punch.

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