I, Tonya: Form and Content

“We also judge on presentation”

One part grueling athleticism, one part theatrical showmanship, the world of figure skating is an identity crisis on ice. Most people have no idea what they are watching: the internal externalized. And in that final performance, years of mental strain, physical anguish, and spiritual breakage, have to fade away. No one judges you on your money, sweat, or tears. Figure skaters have one job— make it look easy. Sounds a lot like filmmaking.
 
Without question, I, Tonya, Craig Gillespie’s punchy tale of disgraced figure skater, Tonya Harding, is the biggest surprise of last year. A critically acclaimed black-comedy, sports biopic, I, Tonya has racked up a massive amount of awards nominations across America. The thought of a film like this garnering wide acclaim from anyone other than niche audiences, is exciting and will ultimately play role in future films to come. That being said, this is not a review of the film, but rather an analysis on the way that I, Tonya employs the artistic idea of form (in this case, film form) and content (a film’s themes, plot, topics, make-up, what is being depicted).
 
Before form is addressed, content must be established. And this may seem relatively simple to do with the film, but I, Tonya is a movie with a lot (and I mean a lot) of moving parts that have to glide concurrently with each other. Obviously, the scandal surrounding figure skater, Tonya Harding, is the main focus of the film. Well, while this statement is correct, it has two parts. The first being the scandal and the second being the figure skater. The film addresses both Harding and the events that toppled her. 

Consider this article an investigation of the question: Do form and content reflect each other in I, Tonya? This is where the film gets interesting... The answer is a clear yes, and a clear no. If we take an element of the film’s form we can see how form and content both connect and disconnect. The film’s biggest strength seems to lie in its energy. There is one piece of form in particular that I have found to be noteworthy in regards to this energy-- the music.

During the first twenty minutes of I, Tonya, you start to settle in to the fact that there is very little silence. A soundtrack to Tonya Harding’s life bounces on in the background of all of her life events. From her early days of lessons, to the “incident” itself, we experience a kind of Tonya Harding concerto. This is why that moment in the mirror before her last competition hits so powerfully. Because there is no music. The film’s music contributes to that energy that is crucial to I, Tonya’s success. 

But does the film employ its belligerent, never-ending soundtrack in a way that makes sense to both the scandal and figure skater? The Nancy Kerrigan attack is undoubtedly the biggest story in figure skating and sports history, especially because it surrounded U.S. Olympians. Doesn’t one of the biggest moments in sports history deserve a film that treats it like an true event, a spectacle? Apparently so. The amount of music in the film allows for audiences to fall into the film like a crowd falls into a rock concert. 

However, if I, Tonya is a figure skating movie, which it is, wouldn’t it also make sense to use figure skating music? Lyrics were never allowed in Olympic performances until 2018, and even in non-olympic competitions, songs with lyrics are frowned upon. You can argue a case that the music has lyrics because Tonya is a rebel in the figure skating community, but having non-lyrical music would create another thematic obstacle for Tonya’s character. Not only would the world be against her, the film have also been against her. This would have made for an interesting dichotomy between the form and content.

The music is only one of the pieces of I, Tonya’s form that sides with the incident rather than the figure skater. Like I mentioned, figure skating is an internal monologue. Its struggle is hidden and quiet. They even address this in the film. Knowing this, it is strange to see that the film chooses talking heads over simple narration. Sometimes the film decides to characterize through 4th wall breaks rather than silent actions. And if this is Tonya Harding’s story, why do we spend so much time with side characters, even cutting to the attackers, who play no important role in Harding’s development as a skater? The relationship between the internal life of a skater is steamrolled over by a snappy externalization of Harding’s thoughts and desires.

In deciding to craft the film as a fast-talking black comedy, I believe that Gillespie has made a statement about Harding. Maybe figure skating is not the aspect that defines her-- maybe she is a synonym for the Nancy Kerrrigan attack. I, Tonya is a title that not only describes the content of the movie, but puts a label on its form. To me, that title is a sign saying, “What we are about to show you is Tonya Harding”. From looking at form, we see Tonya Harding as not a figure skater, but the attack itself. To me, this is the statement the film makes. Would I have preferred a personal portrait of a disgraced figure skater to a head-bopping, gangster-esque account of the scandal that destroyed her? Maybe. But there is something to be said about the film’s style, an explosive tonal juggle that knows no other. 

Luckily for I, Tonya, we also judge on presentation.