CHRISTY has been my biggest cinematic surprise this year. I go into every movie optimistically hoping I will like it, but judging from the rapturous reaction from the crowd at the Toronto International Film Festival, this film was a hit. CHRISTY is an easy crowdpleaser that will make you cheer, cringe, and cry. I did a little too much weeping, if that gives you any indication of how much I was engrossed in the film.
The film opens in 1989 West Virginia. Christy (Sydney Sweeney) is a great local fighter, but she doesn’t have formalized training. People say she flights like she has demons inside of her, and it is that talent that finally gets her seen by a professional boxing coach, Jim Martin (Ben Foster). Jim is able to get Christy in more fights, which raises her profile. But as much as she tries to make her parents and coaches proud of her accomplishments, they can’t get over that Christy is in a relationship with a woman.
Christy is given an ultimatum—professional training or her relationship; she chooses boxing. Soon, Christy’s flashy wins and even flashier pink style catches the eye of promoters like Don King, who can put her on the ticket for lucrative fights. She is one of the first women in the sport to get this kind of opportunity, so it’s important that she seizes it. But as successful as she gets, Christy is most busy battling her inner demons and the abusive devil at home, Jim.
At first, Christy bills herself as the anti-feminist. She does not care about how her accomplishments may impact women in the sport of boxing, either in opportunities or finances; she only cares how she will be affected and good luck to any journalist that decides to bring up this topic. But her facade is slowly pulled back as the movie progresses. You realize that Christy has been raised in a patriarchal community that didn’t promote female independence, and certainly didn’t support her desire to live as a gay woman. She has constantly been compared to men in the male-dominated sport of boxing, her accomplishments always with a gendered caveat. And at home, her parents viewed marrying a man as the be all end all of Christy’s life—her talent in the ring was a nice afterthought. When Christy eventually gives in to the criticism and marries Jim, her mother continuously takes his side over hers. So it’s no surprise that she internalized many of those misogynistic ideas. But by the end of the film, Christy grows to realize she was a trailblazer, not only in bringing more attention to women in boxing but in being an advocate for domestic abuse survivors.
From her brown contacts to her 90s-style wigs, Sydney Sweeney transforms into Christy. Her performance is particularly phenomenal in the film’s third act. I am not sure how much of this film was shot out of order, but it almost feels like Sweeney gets more assured in the role as the character gets older. She plays Christy with a level of ferocity worthy of the role in a way I haven’t seen her exude on-screen before. It’s clear that this film and this character mean a lot to Sweeney, and it really shines through how much she put into her performance.
Ben Foster, who is good in every role I have ever seen him in, also deserves major props for what he does as the villain in this film. You won’t even love to hate this man, you will viscerally hate everything about him. From his terrible comb-over, to his beer belly, to his cheap clothes, this man exudes insecurity and the need to be in control. From his first few seconds on-screen, it will be hard not to be disgusted by Foster. When the cast got on-stage to participate in a Q&A after the film, I almost found myself booing him when he was introduced; his performance feels that real.
Now we have to talk about a couple of the issues with the film. The first is its almost 2 1/2 hour runtime does feel a bit long, especially in the more duplicative fight scenes. Maybe that was the intent of these scenes—to show it didn’t matter who she was fighting, Christy was going to win—but it didn’t work in execution. I would have loved to see the script tightened by about 15-20 minutes. But when your film ends as victoriously as CHRISTY does, audiences probably aren’t going to remember those couple of middling scenes sprinkled throughout. My second, and most shallow, criticism is unfortunately about the wigs. I know this movie probably didn’t have a huge budget, but I would have gladly contributed to a GoFundMe to increase its wig budget. One particularly hideous contraption involves Sweeney in janky cornrows. Why she couldn’t set cornrows in her normal hair, I have no idea, but this was especially cringe.
CHRISTY perfectly encapsulates a story about transformation—how one woman was able to overcome the doubts from her family, coaches and the sport she loved. But most importantly, she finally was able to find herself and live her truth in the open, no longer repressed from societal norms. Christy Martin always pushed the limit, whether it be in the career she chose, the car she drove, or the people she loved. And the movie’s dedication to highlighting that is what makes it special.
My Review: B+