Christy: Austin Film Festival Review

I have never been a big boxing fan growing up, but with that said, I also came of age during the era of Mike Tyson. So even if I wasn’t a fan, it was impossible not to be aware of the sport. Around that time, I remember hearing the name Christy Martin — a female boxer making a name for herself. Women’s boxing was something new then, and other than knowing her name, I didn’t know much else. So going into David Michôd’s new film about her, perfectly titled Christy, I had no idea about the person whose life I was about to learn about.

Christine Salters (Sydney Sweeney) has often been called aggressive by her basketball coach. While that trait might be frowned upon on the court, Christy channels that aggression into something more profitable: boxing. During one of her early fights, she catches the attention of someone who wants to introduce her to a potential trainer. Christy jumps at the chance — it’s a way to earn money, and she kind of enjoys hitting people, too. That’s when she meets Jim Martin (Ben Foster), who initially doesn’t want to train a woman but is told he has to. With some polish, Jim molds Christy into a formidable boxer who starts beating everyone she faces.

As Christy and Jim’s relationship grows, she reluctantly marries him. Before long, she gets the opportunity of a lifetime — a meeting with legendary promoter Don King (Chad L. Coleman). King likes what he sees, and soon Christy Martin is thrust into the spotlight. But life behind the scenes isn’t as glamorous as it appears. Jim becomes controlling and abusive, leading up to the biggest and most personal fight of Christy’s life.

Written by Mirrah Foulkes and David Michôd, with Michôd also directing, Christy follows familiar biopic tropes but tells its story in a fragmented, memory-like style. The script takes aim at the regressive culture surrounding Christy — one that she was very much a victim of. While it includes the familiar rise-and-fall beats and expected boxing montages, the film’s first half feels a bit bloated, making you wonder if it will ever find its rhythm. But when it does — particularly in the final twenty-five minutes — it truly comes alive.

Christy isn’t your typical sports biopic; it’s really a horror story about domestic abuse. Some of its punches miss due to pacing issues and a runtime that feels a little long, but the film’s strength lies in its unflinching look at domestic violence. Sydney Sweeney is nearly unrecognizable and delivers a raw, authentic performance you can feel — especially in the final act. Ben Foster, as always, brings intensity and depth to his character.

There’s a lot of darkness in this story, and it might be a tough watch for some audiences, but it’s a story that feels necessary — maybe even lifesaving. I had no idea what to expect from Christy, knowing nothing about her story going in, and that mystery only deepened the impact of what I saw. It’s not a perfect film, but it’s one with a vital message, strong performances, and an emotional weight that lingers. If its message changes even one life for the better, it will have made her journey that of a true champion.