At the beginning of I, Tonya, we’re informed that what we’re about to see is based on a set of “irony-free, wildly contradictory and totally true” interviews with disgraced figure skater Tonya Harding and ex-husband Jeff Gillooly. It’s a necessary, playful reminder that despite the far-fetched nature of the events in the film, there’s at least a kernel of truth here. Even star Margot Robbie assumed the script was fictitious on first read, unaware of how Harding’s lurid story gripped most of the western world back in the early 90s.
It also acts as an early indication of tone: we’re not about to see an earnest Lifetime biopic, but instead something a little less rigid and a lot more knowing. The format of the film allows for a mixture of interviews with the main players and a chronological retelling of Harding’s life. As a child, she was an undeniable talent on ice but suffered at the hands of an abusive mother (played here by Allison Janney). When she meets Jeff (Sebastian Stan), he seems to provide an escape from the crushing reality she faces at home. The pair quickly get married but Harding faces more abuse from him and outwardly toughens up even more, a refusal to let her treatment at the hands of others define who she is.
As she journeys further into the competitive world of figure skating, Harding finds herself hampered by the snobbery of those who expect someone a bit more refined to be performing in front of them. Battling against her working class background, hoping to be judged by just her talent alone, her strength soon turns into aggression. It doesn’t help matters that another US skater, the more superficially acceptable Nancy Kerrigan, is progressing at a much faster pace than her.
Working from a Black List script by Steven Rogers (whose credits include far softer material like Hope Floats, Stepmom and PS I Love You), director Craig Gillespie is keen to present Harding’s story in an unconventional manner, which is fitting given that her story is such a wild one. It’s a difficult balance, between truth and exaggerated truth, the darkly comic elements resting alongside the story of a woman who suffered physical violence at the hands of both her mother and husband. It’s also easy to fall into mean-spirited, class-rooted ridicule and while there is a certain amount of fun-poking here, there’s also an affection for Harding at the center, a desire to present her as something other than a tabloid villain.
Harding here is an unlikely underdog trying to succeed in a world where she’s been repeatedly told that she’s not welcome. We side with her on her quest but that doesn’t mean we always like her. She’s abrasive and frustrating, two steps back for every step forward. Much has been made of Robbie’s transformation for the role but in truth it’s never an entirely convincing portrayal. The decision to introduce Robbie as the 15-year-old Harding is clumsily ill-advised and while she’s lively and forceful throughout, the process is always a bit too visible. Instead, the standout here is Janney, who gives a towering, monstrous performance as Harding’s vicious mother, spewing foul-mouthed bile in every possible direction. It’s hardly nuanced work but Janney’s natural comic skills have never been utilized with quite such finesse and we mourn her when she’s off screen.
Given the titular focus on Harding, there’s little characterization elsewhere. This is a broad, frequently cartoonish romp that plays like a less effective mishmash of To Die For and Fargo. The blunt, unashamed crudeness does provide some laughs but the tonal shifts are often uncomfortably handled. Gillespie stages some slick skating scenes but a reliance on hopelessly on-the-nose musical choices (Devil Woman, Every 1’s a Winner etc) and the regrettable decision to break the fourth wall at random moments prove distracting. There’s also a curious absentee in the story: Nancy Kerrigan. We merely see her in fleeting glances and one wonders whether this was a narrative choice or based on legal restrictions. It jars and leaves the film lacking sufficient background to the inarguable main event.
The zippy fun of the first half dissipates once we reach the overly familiar scenes of the second, the focus on the harebrained criminal scheme feeling particularly sub-Coenesque. It’s hardly dull but it’s not quite as biting and sharply realized as it could be given the wealth of stranger-than-fiction drama surrounding Harding.
Unevenly told and patchily performed, there’s still a morbid curiosity that keeps I, Tonya at least diverting. It’s brash and shaggy and while Robbie might not quite stick the landing, Janney’s performance is gold.
- I, Tonya is screening at the Toronto film festival with a release date yet to be confirmed
• This article was amended on 12 September 2017. An earlier version misnamed the director Craig Gillespie as Jim Gillespie.