Craig Gillespie's I, Tonya is an amusing, if superficial look at the saga of Tonya Harding. Being a Portlander of long standing, I am overly familiar with this saga. For most Portlanders, Tonya was the epitome of the white trash denizens of Gresham, a working class enclave just east of Portland. This film, shot in Georgia, fails to capture that milieu. The homes are too nice and the characters too well turned out. This is not fatal to the film, but it means the picture lacks the verisimilitude of a Waters movie shot in Baltimore or a Linklater one shot in Texas.
Steven Rogers script starts off with verve and energy. Its use of flashbacks and interviews is well served by Gillespie who shows more visual flair than previously. Gillespie has displayed before an ability to draw strong performances out of his players, especially in Lars and the Real Girl. Margot Robbie and Alison Janney have been justly celebrated for their performances and Sebastian Stan's turn as Harding's husband, Jeff, is equally good.
I Tonya's second half flags a little. There are too many dead end scenes between Jeff and his henchman. A bigger problem is the half-assed attempt to make Tonya a sympathetic figure. That Harding was abused by others I have little doubt, but the film is too lightweight to really make a connection between that and Tonya's self-destructive and violent behavior. I, Tonya is a better satire of sports and American culture than the recent Battle of the Sexes, but it is only intermittently successful. (4/20/18)
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