'Christy' Review: Why Sydney Sweeney's Boxing Biopic Never Lands a Knockout

‎David Michôd’s Christy sets out to tell the story of Christy Martin, the groundbreaking boxer who rose to fame in the 1990s, but the film struggles to match the intensity of its subject. Starring Sydney Sweeney in a physically demanding role, the biopic blends sports drama with domestic violence narrative yet rarely lands a knockout blow.
‎David Michôd’s Christy, starring Sydney Sweeney as boxer Christy Martin, falters with flat drama and late, uneven intensity.
‎Courtesy of TIFF
‎The film opens as a standard rise-to-glory sports story. Christy, a West Virginia basketball player, stumbles into boxing and discovers a devastating right hand. Under promoter Larry (Bill Kelly), she racks up victories as “The Coal Miner’s Daughter,” winning over fans but leaving little dramatic tension for the audience. Her fights, staged with polished choreography, lack real suspense until bouts with Deirdre Gogarty and Laila Ali inject much-needed urgency.
‎Michôd seems most engaged once the story shifts from the ring to Christy’s relationship with trainer-turned-husband Jim Martin, played by Ben Foster. Foster leans into his familiar brand of volatility, transforming Jim from dismissive skeptic to manipulative abuser. The domestic violence storyline provides the film’s most harrowing and effective scenes, but they arrive late, making the first half feel pedestrian and repetitive.
‎Sweeney’s commitment is evident in her physical transformation, yet her performance often feels restrained, leaving Christy’s inner conflicts—her sexuality, her discomfort with a forced feminine image, her resilience outside the ring—underexplored. Foster, meanwhile, delivers a performance so familiar it borders on predictable, while Merritt Wever as Christy’s mother gives the most chillingly memorable turn, offering judgment rather than support even as her daughter endures violence.
‎Supporting performances help where the leads falter. Katy O’Bryan as fellow fighter Lisa Holewyne and Bryan Hibbard as Big Jeff bring warmth and humanity, while Chad Coleman electrifies late in the film with a lively take on Don King. These moments, however, highlight how much of Christy feels underpowered in comparison.
‎Michôd’s craftsmanship is undeniable, but the film suffers from a lack of surprise. The boxing drama feels formulaic, and the emotional weight only lands once the narrative turns darker. By then, the film has already lost much of its momentum, making the shocking violence in its final act feel more like a jolt than the culmination of a fully realized story.
‎Christy promises the grit of an inspirational sports biopic and the gravity of a domestic tragedy, but instead delivers a film caught between the two, never fully capitalizing on the strength of its subject or its star.

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