Every year, there are tons of sports biopics, but Queen of the Ring stands out, even for someone like me who isn’t into wrestling. A great sports biopic isn’t just about the competition; it’s about the individual who beats the odds to truly impact the field. That’s exactly who Mildred ‘Millie’ Burke was—a young single mom who faced unbelievable challenges to become the first female athlete to earn a million dollars, a staggering feat in a male-dominated industry.

The tale is based on the book with a mouthful title, The Queen of the Ring: Sex, Muscles, Diamonds and the Making of an American Legend, penned by Pulitzer Prize-winning author Jeff Leen. Ash Avildsen adapted it for the screen, co-writing the script with Alston Ramsay. The true highlight of the film is Emily Bett Rickards, famous for her part in CW’s Arrow. She underwent a significant physical transformation for this role and truly poured her heart into her first leading performance.

We first meet Millie on the ring (natch!) against a formidable opponent. We don’t yet know how pivotal this match is, but clearly it’s an important one. Then the movie is told in flashback mode to tell the story of how she gets there. It may not be an innovative storytelling approach, but it works. Mille was working as a waitress at a diner to make ends meet, but after catching a wrestling match featuring Billy Wolfe (Josh Lucas), she felt a surge of inspiration to give the sport a shot. Even though he was skeptical at first, Millie convinces Wolfe to coach her and manage her career.

Their bond quickly turns romantic, but their love story is short-lived due to Wolfe’s womanizing ways. Wolfe was a pioneering wrestling promoter long before Vince McMahon came onto the scene, but the movie highlights that Millie was just as savvy both in and out of the ring. She was ambitious enough to marry Wolfe simply as a business deal. It’s no surprise that Avildsen is captivated by Millie’s tale, considering his late father, director John G. Avildsen, was famous for movies featuring underdogs triumphing over challenges, like Rocky and The Karate Kid.

It’s interesting to learn about the wrestling carnivals where the troupe would travel from state to state, popular during the post-WWI era. Avildsen really delivers on the wrestling scenes, showcasing Millie’s skills as she trains with local townsfolk volunteering as her opponents, all the way to her professional bouts in the ring. She realizes early on just how cutthroat this industry truly is, but she’s determined to make it. The matches between Millie and June Byers, played by real-life pro-wrestler Kailey Farmer, are undeniably the most grueling. As we return to the opening scene, it turns out to be a pivotal match for Millie to defend her championship title that earned her the moniker Queen of the Ring. It’s extra intense because it’s a ‘shoot match,’ meaning it’s genuine combat without a predetermined script.

Even with the exciting moments, the story doesn’t always flow smoothly, and the dialogue can feel a bit clunky. Millie’s transition from a working mom to a wrestling star feels somewhat disjointed. I wish the script offered a bit more historical context when Millie’s career takes place, in terms of the socio-economic conditions or historical reference to the Great Depression. That said, her incredible story is still engaging enough to keep you invested in her journey. Rickards nails the lead role, showcasing grit, determination, and talent, along with the looks to attract the male audience. She also reveals a vulnerable side when it comes to her only son Joe (Gavin Casalegno), who is essentially her strength and motivation.

Lucas fits the role of Wolfe, but he tends to overact, which can be a little distracting. Walton Goggins is pretty effective as Jack Pfefer, a powerful NY promoter known for bringing a theatrical flair to the pro wrestling scene. Millie’s tumultuous relationship with Wolfe is palpable, yet the quasi-romantic connection with Wolfe’s son, G. Bill, played by Tyler Posey (Teen Wolf), comes off as awkward, which I believe is one of the film’s weakest aspects. The female supporting cast is rather uneven; Deborah Ann Woll is memorable as Gladys Gillem, while Francesca Eastwood as Mae Young is largely forgettable. Damaris Lewis is notable as Babs Wingo, one of the first female wrestlers of color who joined Millie’s troupe. Wingo and her team paved the way for black female wrestlers like Trinity Fatu (who makes a cameo here). Their loyalty to Millie is crucial for her success as she steps into the role of a wrestling promoter, challenging Wolfe.

The constraints of the budget are quite visible, yet the production quality featuring vintage set pieces and costumes is pretty impressive. As Millie and the female wrestling group achieve greater success, they become increasingly glamorous, and it’s delightful to witness the stylish outfits from the 30s the 50s. DP Andrew Strahorn enhances the nostalgic atmosphere by blending in warm shades of gold and brown. Millie, especially, is often bathed in a golden glow as she is featured as a heroic figure.

Despite those quibbles, I still find Queen of the Ring a rousing and inspiring biopic. I always appreciate films that highlight triumphs against adversity, and it’s also fun to get a glimpse into post-war American life. Mildred Burke might not be a household name to non-wrestling fans, but her story deserves to be told on the big screen. Kudos to the filmmaking team and Rickards for honoring Burke’s legacy. I sure hope it will find an audience once it arrives on VOD on October 13th.

Have you seen QUEEN OF THE RING? I’d love to hear what you think!