‘Christy’ Review: Sydney Sweeney’s Mighty Punch Can’t Save This Generic, Oscar-Baity Sports Biopic
In this corner, we have a generic sports biopic. In the other corner, we have Swoley Sweeney. Will she prevail against her opponent? Joking aside, Christy, the biopic of gay boxing legend Christy Salters, was anticipated for Sydney Sweeney's transformation into the role and was one of the highest-profile titles at TIFF50. Generally speaking, Sweeney plays her most transformational role to date. Yet, David Michôd's treatment of the title character's study is annoyingly bloated and follows countless conventions. Overall, he doesn’t give this fascinating survivor of domestic abuse and a pioneer in boxing the knockout punch of a portrait she deserved.
Image copyright (©) Courtesy of TIFF
MPA Rating: NR
Runtime: 2 Hour and 15 Minutes
Language: English
Production Companies: Black Bear Pictures, Anonymous Content, Votiv Films, Yoki, Inc., Fifty-Fifty Films
Distributor: Black Bear Pictures
Director: David Michôd
Screenwriters: David Michôd & Mirrah Foulkes
Cast: Sydney Sweeney, Ben Foster, Merritt Wever, Katy O’Brian, Ethan Embry, Jess Gabor, Chad Coleman, Bryan Hibbard, Tony Cavalero, Gilbert Cruz
U.S. Release Date: November 7, 2025
The story begins in the late 1980s. Christy Salters (Sweeney) is an athletic college student and a closeted lesbian at the core of a negligent West Virginian family. She is seen walking around with her girlfriend, Rosie (Jess Gabor), much to the dismay of her mother (Merritt Wever). She is proficient in boxing, but finds it difficult to establish a career and a sense of identity. Boxing was not traditionally considered a profession for women during that era. After one fight, Christy meets a promoter who places her under the supervision and training of Jim Martin (Ben Foster), a slick, misogynistic man who is 25 years her senior. That training relationship evolved into a toxic romance and a coerced marriage. Simultaneously, she hustles in the independent boxing circuit to get noticed by Don King. Once she does, it marks the beginning of her rise to fame as a pioneering female boxer. As her career rises and falls over the course of ten years, their relationship spirals out of control as Jim embezzles her money, turns her into a drug addict, and beats her up at every disagreement. She manages to emerge as a strong woman and battle her way out of the ring and into freedom.
Christy adheres to far too many sports biopic tropes
Sydney Sweeney in 'Christy' | Black Bear Pictures
Salters' story of being a closeted lesbian, putting female boxing on the map, and surviving a coerced marriage in which her spouse attempted murder is singular and unique. As someone who is unfamiliar with “The Coal Miner’s Daughter” story, Michôd’s portrait starts strong. Introspectively, Michôd and co-writer Mirrah Foulkes portray the harsh truth of Salters' troubled personal life, the result of neglect and gay paranoia, which allowed her to be manipulated, groomed, and trapped in a loveless, toxic marriage for much of her early career. The emotional manipulation by her spouse and family is evident in the numerous exceptionally acted scenes with Sweeney and/or Wever and Foster, in which she often shrivels up and remains stunted in her adulthood. However, those are merely fleeting glimpses of what could have been a more psychologically sound character study. The approach is presented in the most formulaic manner conceivable, with each punch delivered with the same level of insignificance.
Christy encapsulates every one of my gripes with the modern bio-drama feature: its story structure plays out like reading a Wikipedia page. It chronicles the high points with training and career-stat success montages. The handful of boxing sequences Michôd helms are entertaining, displaying Salters' fervor and talent in the ring with fine choreography, yet nothing about it is notable. Then it chronicles the low points with long and disturbing scenes of abuse, whether it be drugs or domestic violence. While I would never judge someone for having real problems with drugs, it seems like every sports drama focuses on it so much that it's become a trope in and of itself.
Every aspect of the narrative is excessively repetitive, lacking rhythm in its pacing. It feels like an assembly cut going down the genre checklist, clunkily getting through each story beat while failing to justify its 135-minute runtime. Christy’s achievements and the breadth of her career success are underscored as the viewer spends an excessive amount of time with her decomposing under Jim Martin's thumb. It also doesn’t help that Sweeney's Salters, who is supposed to appear older, retains the same youthful appearance every time-skip in a story spanning 30 years. Meanwhile, the unrecognizable Ben Foster is genuinely transformative in a physical aspect.
Christy is Sydney Sweeney’s best performance to date, however...
Sydney Sweeney and Ben Foster in 'Christy' | Black Bear Pictures
Christy is determined to tell her story while also ensuring that Sydney Sweeney has a star vehicle for Oscar buzz, common in sports bio-dramas this time of year. Besides, Jacob Elordi and Zendaya can’t be the only Euphoria stars to have all the fun. Sweeney has been good in several projects, with Reality, Immaculate, and, hell, even Euphoria being her highlights. Yes, she does fantastic acting work here. She is remarkable for her strong Appalachian accent and impressive display of physicality, not just in the boxing scenes but also in the disturbing murder attempt scene. She portrays the dual nature of a fierce boxer and her tendency toward submissiveness with empathy. There’s a large disconnect between the writing's portrayal of Salters as an unlikable person who actively belittles everyone around her and makes risky, poor choices without offering the audience any indication of why she should go back to her abuser. The sole instance in which her humanity is acknowledged is when she interacts with her former adversary and future wife, Lisa Holewyne (a very underutilized Katy O'Brian). Above all, Sweeney, while great, is overshadowed by her dominant co-stars at every turn.
Foster actively steals the film as Jim Martin. In addition to being unrecognizable, he delivers a viscerally stomach-churning portrayal of a psychopathic tormenter who is perpetually puppeteering Christy, making you see red at every turn. The same goes for Wever as Salters' emotionally vicious mother, who is Martin’s mirror, minus the physical violence. They captivated me, tag-teaming my attention, which is an absurd statement for a biopic about a boxer who faced abuse, as the performances by the actors who portrayed the tormentors are the most noteworthy.
Final Statement
Sweeney, Foster, and Wever all do great work in Christy, but its lengthy and bland storytelling fails to give the source figure the powerful punch her story deserves.
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