By Keith Walther | Rose Law Group Reporter
Once again, Sydney Sweeney destroys a film with her clear inability to act. “Christy” is a biographical drama based on the life of female boxing legend Christy Martin, who put women’s boxing on the map in the 1990s. While the story itself is rather interesting, the acting from the entire cast lands a vicious roundhouse from which the production never recovers.
Having grown up in a very small West Virginia town in a rigid household with an intolerant mother, Christy Salters (Sydney Sweeney) cannot wait to begin living her life her own way. She discovers she has an uncanny talent for boxing, gaining the attention of Jim Martin (Ben Foster), who becomes her coach and takes her to the national stage. As Christy ascends to the pinnacle of the female boxing world, her off-putting attitude, an overbearing and abusive relationship, and lack of acceptance for her sexuality threaten to derail her career and put her in mortal danger.
Sydney Sweeney deserves some credit for taking on a very unglamorous role that had her go through over three months of intense training and gain around 30 pounds. While the dedication is refreshing, her inability to act convincingly hamstrings her performance. She was clearly punching over her weight class, unable to believably portray this athlete plagued by abuse. Her in-ring demeanor is outrageously laughable with goofy, childlike expressions during her fights. Anytime she knocked an opponent down, she would have this look of purely naïve shock as if her next line was going to be Urkel’s “Did I do that?” Her weak, ineffectual acting completely corrupts an otherwise intriguing tale of this hard-hitting boxer. All she accomplishes with this performance is proving how she might be the absolute worst actress in Hollywood.
Unfortunately, the rest of cast does not fare much better. Both Ben Foster and Merritt Wever, who plays the title character’s mother, overact their roles to the point they become these villainous caricatures of creepily manipulative proportions. Ethan Embry, who portrays the father, tries for a quiet strength to his role to provide gravitas but falls flat, yielding more ignorant cowardice than anything.
Australian filmmaker David Michôd tries his best to represent this woman’s incredible life as authentically as possible. He does a fine job of displaying the in-ring action with realistic fight choreography that gets viewers’ blood pumping and balances the slower, more dramatic elements of the story. A story that spans over two decades such as this requires a more detail-oriented focus to ensure smooth continuity. David falters here, failing to accomplish simple details like aging the characters appropriately. All characters look nearly identical from when the movie begins to when it ends, with only different hair styles marking the passage of time.
Additionally, Michôd falters with the tone of the film, victimizing the main character as an abused woman instead of showcasing her enduring strength and perseverance. This effectively minimizes the impact of her achievements. Then, he introduces grotesque violence towards the end of the movie that makes it feel like it’s no longer a drama, no longer a sports film, but a completely different production. This shift distracts and detaches the audience from the story to the point that the dramatic elements fall completely flat and ineffectual.
This is basically a very poor man’s version of “Million Dollar Baby” that fails in its execution and acting. If “Christy” was a professional baseball team, it would be the Single-A affiliate Tampa Tarpons with a bunch of players who have no hope of reaching the show with the New York Yankees. One can only hope that Sydney Sweeney gets knocked out from these starring roles and relegated to community theater.
This movie earns:
