Films for Breakfast

The story of Christy Martin’s rise to fame in boxing is a fascinating one. She was one of the first, and arguably the most influential, female boxers in the sport’s history. From a certain perspective, she was the core athlete who ignited the movement of women in professional boxing. The film traces Christy’s (Sydney Sweeney) early days through her ascent to stardom, headlining major fights across the country, as well as her volatile marriage to her trainer, James Martin (Ben Foster). What’s remarkable about Christy’s story, beyond her triumphs in the ring, is how turbulent her life was outside of it – which makes her achievements even more impressive.

Sydney Sweeney has spoken extensively during the press tour for the film about how grueling the physical and emotional preparation for this role was, and it shows. She delivers a fiercely committed performance that fully immerses you in Christy’s world. What’s most striking, though, is how Sweeney captures the duality at the heart of Christy; her resilience and toughness contrasted with deep vulnerability and empathy. It’s a layered portrayal that honors both the fighter and the woman beneath the gloves.

One of the film’s most harrowing yet compelling elements is its depiction of Christy’s marriage to James. Ben Foster, an actor I’ve long considered among the most underrated of his generation, is exceptional here. He portrays James as a manipulative, pathetic abuser without ever tipping into caricature. The film wisely explores not just the cruelty of his physical abuse but the psychological entrapment that kept Christy tethered to him. For long stretches, Christy feels less like a sports biopic and more like a haunting domestic drama about the cycles of abuse – and it’s all the stronger for it.

At times, the film does move a bit briskly through major moments in Christy’s life. I occasionally wished it had paused more within the quieter, personal beats that might have further illuminated her emotional journey. Still, given the film spans two decades and already runs over two hours, it’s easy to understand the necessity of its pacing.

What truly distinguishes Christy is David Michôd’s direction. Known for his sharp, often brutal sensibilities, Michôd brings a visceral energy to both the boxing sequences and Christy’s personal struggles. I’ve had mixed feelings about his previous work, as his style is impressive but often leaves me feeling emotionally distant; yet here he strikes an ideal balance between raw intensity and human depth. The fight scenes alone justify his involvement, choreographed and shot with both ferocity and clarity.

Ultimately, Christy is a fairly straightforward biopic, but it’s told with such care and urgency that it transcends many of the genre’s familiar beats. Some of the editing choices can feel abrupt, but the film’s sincerity, emotional weight, and two powerhouse performances from Sweeney and Foster more than make up for it. While not flawless, it’s a gripping, heartfelt sports drama that offers a new lens on one of the most influential athletes of her era.