Sydney Sweeney Elevates Christy Into A Gritty Must-See Biopic

TIFF brought in Christy with a lot of eyes on it, mostly because it is Sydney Sweeney stepping into a gritty, non-glam role and basically saying: can I carry a whole movie by myself? Short answer: yeah, she can, and she does.

What the movie is

Christy tells the rise of Christy Martin, a trailblazer in women’s boxing who is pounding her way into the sport while getting crushed at home by an abusive relationship. It is a tough sit at times, but the story fits the biopic mold in a way that makes sense for a feature.

Sweeney, transformed

Sweeney disappears into Christy. She reportedly put on about 40 pounds of muscle and looks legitimately dangerous in the ring. There is zero vanity in what she is doing here. The performance isn’t just physical either; she plays Christy as someone trying to figure out who she is. The film frames Christy as gay but forcing herself into a straight life, marrying her trainer Jim and even taunting opponents with homophobic jabs while carefully packaging herself as ultra-feminine: pink trunks, pink BMW, the works. It is a fascinating and uncomfortable contradiction, and Sweeney sells all of it.

She is also great with the family stuff. The scenes with her parents sting: Merritt Wever, who is usually so likable, goes all-in on a cold, brutal mother you’ll hate within minutes, while Ethan Embry plays a dad who loves his daughter but lets too much slide.

The Jim problem

Ben Foster is Jim, the trainer-turned-husband who spots Christy’s talent and then takes control of everything around her. The performance has a strong Eric Roberts-in-Star 80 vibe as Jim spirals, gets into drugs with Christy, and turns increasingly violent. If you know Christy Martin’s real story, you know it goes to a very dark place, and the film does not sanitize any of it. David Michod shoots the domestic abuse with uncomfortable, unflinching intensity.

Michod keeps it moving

David Michod (Animal Kingdom, The King) is a steady hand here. The movie runs 137 minutes but rarely drags. It is heavy, obviously, yet the tone never becomes suffocating. There are odd little pressure valves throughout: Chad L. Coleman shows up as Don King for a jolt of energy, and the recreation of Christy’s 90s pay-per-view promos is unexpectedly fun. Antony Partos’s score, in line with his earlier Australian collaborations with Michod, adds muscle and mood without getting in the way.

The awards buzz question

People will ask if this pushes Sweeney into Oscar talk. I get why, but the movie does hit some familiar biopic beats, and that probably caps how far it goes with awards bodies. Also, while Foster has big moments, his take on Jim can tip into hammy choices: the paunch, the combover, the whole, look-how-transformed-I-am thing. It sometimes feels like costuming is doing more work than the performance. Meanwhile, Sweeney just inhabits Christy without any fuss.

• Sydney Sweeney is Christy Martin, fully committing physically and emotionally.
• Ben Foster plays Jim, the controlling trainer/husband whose spiral drives the film’s darkest turns.
• Merritt Wever is Christy’s harsh, deeply unsympathetic mother; Ethan Embry is the loving but passive father.
• Chad L. Coleman drops in as Don King for a lively cameo.
• David Michod directs; Antony Partos provides the score.
• Runtime: 137 minutes; the pacing holds.
• Expect some laughs in the 90s PPV promo recreations, but be ready for an unflinching look at domestic violence.
• Black Bear is releasing the film in November.

Bottom line

Christy is a sharp, tough biopic that does right by a complicated figure. It is not exactly feel-good, which might limit its box office ceiling, but it is very watchable and often gripping. Whether or not the wider public can handle Sweeney in a full-on unglam mode remains to be seen, but the talent is undeniable. If you need a number, call it a solid 7/10 and, more importantly, a career-level showcase for Sweeney.