Christy

Christy is one of those biopics whose subject matter seems almost too extraordinary to be adapted for conventional cinema, and this dilemma is evident throughout David Michôd's film. On the one hand, Christy Martin's true story is inherently fascinating: the daughter of a West Virginia coal miner, she carved her way into boxing history, challenged a deeply patriarchal sport and culture, and managed to navigate the contradictions of being both a public symbol and a deeply wounded private personality. On the other hand, the film often oscillates between authenticity and formula, circling around familiar sports movie tropes while sometimes forgetting the human heart beating beneath the gloves. What saves it from sinking into purely mechanical storytelling is the visceral commitment of Sydney Sweeney, whose physical and emotional transformation infuses the film with something raw, bruised, and alive every time she appears on screen.

What is most striking is the way the film constantly contrasts the joy and liberation that Sydney Sweeney's character finds in the ring with the suffocation that overwhelms her outside of it. The early scenes, where Christy fights her way through amateur competitions before attracting national attention, capture a truly contagious sense of discovery, helped by the fact that Sydney Sweeney trained intensively to convince us that this body was forged by punishment, repetition, and sheer willpower. There is an anecdotal electricity in the moments that reference those iconic nights when Christy entered arenas once considered reserved for men, including the unforgettable Don King era, where Chad L. Coleman's joyfully domineering presence lights up the film and reminds us how much boxing history is shaped as much by theater as it is by athleticism. Yet what remains most memorable is not the spectacle, but the growing realization that every professional triumph is linked to a personal compromise, a reinvention of identity designed to please a hostile world.

It is in the film's domestic arc that David Michôd seems most inspired, and it is impossible to talk about Christy without mentioning the terrifying gravitational pull of Ben Foster in the role of Jim Martin. Foster, already renowned for his morally disturbing performances, portrays Jim not as a caricatured monster, but as a slowly encroaching, coercive, and threatening character, the kind of abuser who makes his victim believe that he is both her salvation and her downfall. There are anecdotes from festival screenings where audiences were literally left speechless when the film reveals its darkest secrets, and this reaction is deserved; when the violence finally erupts, it is staged with a disconcerting realism that strips the film of any cinematic glamour. This is where David Michôd's darkest instincts, already present in his previous films, resurface, and Sydney Sweeney responds by shifting from rebellious fighter to woman facing unimaginable danger, transforming her physical endurance into emotional survival.

However, for every sequence that strikes with devastating force, there are others where the film seems content to tick the boxes of the genre rather than question the complexity of Christy Martin's life. The uniqueness that so marked her life experience often seems underutilized, reduced to narrative highlights rather than a fully explored identity, despite the strong emotional currents in the scenes involving Jess Gabor as Rosie and the powerful presence of Katy O'Brian as Lisa Holewyne toward the end of the film. Similarly, while Merritt Wever brings a disturbing conviction to the role of Christy's mother, her character remains frustratingly monotonous in a story that calls for nuance. Even Ethan Embry's calmer, more human performance as Christy's father seems like a missed opportunity to bring greater emotional richness. The film never fully explores the cultural mechanisms that forced Christy into hiding, preferring to present clearly defined heroes and villains when the reality is much more complex.

Technically, the boxing sequences are effective rather than transcendent, sometimes lacking the immersive sense of rhythm, danger, and psychology that characterize great boxing films. There are moments when the choreography and staging feel more illustrative than experiential, though a few key fights, particularly the decisive showdowns against formidable opponents, manage to convey intensity and narrative weight. What really resonates in these matches is not just the athleticism, but the emotional charge behind each punch, which Sydney Sweeney communicates with surprising depth; we believe she is fighting ghosts, expectations, and the people who let her down, not just her opponents. Around her, David Michôd assembles a solid supporting cast, including Chad L. Coleman, Katy O'Brian, Merritt Wever, and Ben Foster, but the film too often forgets to flesh them out beyond their narrative functions.

Ultimately, Christy is a film that seems caught between two impulses: the safety of an inspiring sports story and the much more uncomfortable and brutally honest drama that lies beneath. When it embraces the latter, it is captivating, emotionally trying, and worthy of its subject; when it relies on formula, it flattens a life that deserved richer cinematic imagination. Still, Sydney Sweeney delivers the most impressive and memorable performance of her career to date, disappearing into the character of Christy Martin with a blend of ferocity, vulnerability, and endurance that lingers long after the credits roll. If audiences remember the woman more than the film, that may still be a victory, but one can't help but feel that Christy's story deserved a film as fearless as she was.

Christy
Directed by David Michôd
Written by Mirrah Foulkes, David Michôd
Story by Katherine Fugate
Produced by Kerry Kohansky-Roberts, Teddy Schwarzman, Brent Stiefel, Justin Lothrop, David Michôd, Sydney Sweeney
Starring  Sydney Sweeney, Ben Foster, Merritt Wever, Katy O'Brian
Cinematography : Germain McMicking
Edited by Matt Villa
Music by Antony Partos
Production companies : Black Bear Pictures, Anonymous Content, Votiv Films, Yoki, Inc., Fifty-Fifty Films
Distributed by Black Bear Pictures (United States), Metropolitan FilmExport (France)
Release dates : September 5, 2025 (TIFF), November 7, 2025 (United States), March 4, 2026 (France)
Running time : 135 minutes

Seen on January 4, 2026 on VOD

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