Christy

Considering the battles of its real-life subject both inside and outside the boxing ring, Christy feels like two movies awkwardly squeezed into one.

The problem is that either as an underdog saga or a thriller about a toxic relationship, this biopic about the pioneering female fighter is safer and more conventional than its title character.

Given her conservative upbringing in a small West Virginia town during the early 1990s, Christy Martin (Sydney Sweeney) hardly comes from a champion prizefighter pedigree.

But when she wins a local event, Christy catches the attention of a fledgling promoter (Bill Kelly), who refers her to Jim (Ben Foster), a trainer who initially rolls his eyes. Coaching women’s boxing is hardly his chosen career path.

She learns to embrace her role as an outsider, even within her own home. Christy’s mother (Merritt Wever) reluctantly endorses the idea of her pursuing a pro career, mostly because it distracts from her burgeoning romance with a female classmate (Jess Gabor).

As Christy rises in the rankings, she’s brash and fearless and unapologetic, making her a tough sell to mainstream audiences, but showman Don King (Chad Coleman) accepts the challenge.

Christy and Jim get married out of convenience, yet behind the scenes, their loveless and abusive pairing is doomed. Given the circumstances, it takes courage and determination just to carve out a future on her own terms.

The screenplay by Mirrah Foulkes and director David Michod (Animal Kingdom) offers only a slight twist on a familiar formula, and much of that has to do with the level of acceptance and widespread exposure of female boxing at the time.

Sweeney’s fully committed performance captures the intense physicality of the role while contrasting Christy’s external bravado and swagger with her internal anguish and vulnerability.

She’s a character of fascinating contradictions, portrayed with a nuance the rest of the film lacks. At least it’s careful not to position her as an easy victim.

However, sneering and scheming Jim is such a cartoonish villain who’s so relentlessly evil that their relationship is never convincing, even given its false pretenses. The unscrupulous nature of the sport is hardly shocking, and the periphery characters are thinly sketched.

Adhering too closely to a well-worn narrative template, Christy shines a deserving spotlight on an its true-life subject. We’re in her corner, although it pulls some punches.

Rated R, 135 minutes.