Producers: Kerry Kohansky-Roberts, Teddy Schwarzman, Brent Stiefel, Justin Lothrop, David Michôd and Sydney Sweeney   Director: David Michôd   Screenplay: Mirrah Foulkes and David Michôd   Cast: Sydney Sweeney, Ben Foster, Merritt Wever, Katy O’Brian, Ethan Embry, Jess Gabor, Chad Coleman, Bryan Hibbard, Tony Cavalero, Gilbert Cruz and Bill Kelly   Distributor: Black Bear

Grade: C

Boxing might be in decline as a sport, but boxing movies seem to be in the ascendant.  Perhaps that’s because they provide a surefire recipe for a good underdog story; one need only consider the enduring attraction of the “Rocky” fable, however absurd it might be on any realistic terms.  And they also offer the chance for depictions of the doomed, over-the-hill sort: “Requiem for a Heavyweight” was, after all, a pugilistic variant of “Death of a Salesman.”  All the better if there’s a biographical element in the mix.

In the case of this film about Christy Martin (nėe Salters), the pro boxing champion nicknamed “the Coal Miner’s Daugter,” one has a piece that checks a lot of boxes, if you’ll pardon the pun, including a feminist slant, a major plot element about domestic abuse, and an opportunity for its star’s remarkable physical transformation.  But all that leads to overstuffing, and a running-time well over two hours; “Christy” almost feels like a mini-series shorn of commercials.

And as directed by David Michôd (who also co-wrote the script with actress Mirrah Foulkes), it has a made-for-cable feel, too.  Simply put, despite the fancy footwork in the fight scenes, “Christy” comes across as a rather pedestrian treatment of the life of a pretty remarkable person, except for a brutal assault sequence in the last act.

Christy (Sydney Sweeney) is introduced in 1989, when, as a twenty-one year old college student, she entered a “tough woman” contest and knocked out her opponent.  Her prowess was noticed by a local promoter (Billy Kelly), who introduced her to boxing, something that her conservative Christian parents Joyce (Merritt Wever) and John (Ethan Embry) might have taken exception to were it not for the fact that it diverted her attention from Rosie (Jess Gabor), her high-school girlfriend whose relationship with their daughter Joyce in particular saw as not exactly normal.

Christy’s success in the ring—dramatized in brief strokes staged without particular imagination by Michôd , cinematographer Germain McMicking and editor Matt Villa—leads to an introduction to trainer Jim Martin (Ben Foster), an obvious jerk who thinks lady boxing is a joke until Christy quickly flattens the guy he assigns to spar with her.  Sensing the possibilities, he dresses her in pink gear, has her grow out her hair, and places her in professional bouts which she regularly wins, though not always easily.  She takes quickly to the reality of fame.  Her mouthy bravado, in fact, becomes part of her tough-girl persona.

So does her very public aversion to feminist causes, adopting the pose of happy wife and homemaker when in 1991 she agrees to marry Jim, a decision Joyce readily approves.  But he’s a Svengali-like manipulator whose negligible clout in the business is revealed in a meeting with famous promoter Don King (Chad Coleman).  Impressed by film of Christy’s bouts, he brushes Martin off and not only offers her a contract but a place in an opening match against Irish opponent Deirdre Gogarty (Stephanie Baur) on the card headed by the second title match pitting Mike Tyson against Frank Bruno in 1996.  After she wins the hard-fought bout by unanimous decision, her career really takes off.

From this point the plot combines two main tracks.  One involves Christy’s professional career, which goes well despite some hard-fought bouts, like her 2003 loss to Laila Ali (Naomi Graham).  But the action montages, while hardly perfunctory, don’t have the punch of those in the most inventive boxing films, and the addition of choral interjections to Antony Patos’ score during them comes across as a mite silly.  Nor is much made of Christy’s connection with her ringside team, including her sparring partner, eventual ring rival and later marital partner Lisa Holewyne (Katy O’Brian).

The other thread is about the relationship between Christy and an increasingly bitter Jim, who grows increasingly abusive.  The deterioration of a marriage which was hardly a love match to begin with isn’t taken seriously by Joyce, who brusquely suggests that her daughter take it in stride, but it leads her friend Jeff (Bryan Hibbard), among others, to offer help in extricating herself from a dangerous situation. When in 2010 Christy decides to leave her husband, a violent reaction occurs that’s dramatized more powerfully than any of the ring action.  The outcome is an act of liberation not only from the marriage but from the pretense of heterosexuality Christy has been living.  Of course, she also determines to resume her career despite everything.

There’s a dogged quality to “Christy,” which extends even to the lead performances.  One has to admire Sweeney’s dedication—both physical and emotional—to the role, but the result comes across as more an impersonation than a fully realized characterization.  As for Foster, he captures Martin’s sinister quality from his first scene, but it’s an unvaried, one-note turn.  Among the others Wever stands out for a portrait of maternal manipulation based on principles that will brook no compromise; in many ways she makes Joyce scarier than Jim.

The doggedness extends to the look of the film as well, with production (Chad Keith) and costume (Christina Flannery) design that reflect the drabness of time and place in flat, colorless tones.

“Christy” is a reasonably good biography of Martin.  The problem is that it should have been exceptional, as her life has been.