Jim (Jordan Oosterhof) is training for his first professional fight under his father, Stan (Tim Roth), a former title winner himself.  Torn between his two passions, one in the ring and the other in the wild filming the vast New Zealand wilderness for use in music videos, Jim meets Whetu (Conan Hayes) who spends his time at a small beachside shack he built far away from his family and the town that scorns him for being gay.  As the two boys begin to forge a friendship, Jim becomes increasingly aware of the rift between the hyper-masculine expectations placed on him as a rising star in the boxing world and his own feelings about how he wants to live and express himself. 

Writer/Director Welby Ings’ long-gestating, queer sports drama, Punch finally made its debut at the New Zealand International Film Festival in 2022 and then arrived state-side in 2023 at the Palm Springs International Film Festival to a regrettably muted reception despite a strong supporting performance by Roth and a deeply tender and emotional arc for the two boys at the center of the story.  At only 98 minutes, the film tackles many themes, and while it does bump up against cliches and melodrama in the second act, the core relationship between Jim and Whetu as well as his father keep the film engaging as Ings uses their dynamic to present a compelling argument against toxic masculinity while highlighting the human need for compassion. 

Shouldering much of the film is relative newcomer Oosterhof in his first feature role, and the script asks a lot of him.  Not only does he need to excel in the ring in a very physically demanding performance, but he also needs to break down the lumbering, himbo persona to deliver across the multiple emotional arenas of the film.  Punch is, at its core, a film about Jim finding a balance between a series of opposites in his life – straight and gay, young and old, white and Maori – the most exciting of which, however, is when he is in and out of control; inside the ring and outside of it.  Even when he gets knocked down during training, it can all be attributed to Jim’s own movements.  He opened himself up to the hit.  Outside of the ring, however, he finds himself with increasingly little control over every aspect of his life and frantically tries to rebel against the slip as the trajectory of his boxing career begins to move out of his control and his only solace is during the quiet beachside afternoons which he spends with Whetu.  Soon, however, even that disappears after Whetu suffers a heinous attack landing him in the hospital. 

One of the most interesting things about Punch is that it is not a typical queer, coming-of-age romance as one would expect from the logline.  For much of the runtime, Ings shakes away from bringing in a romantic angle to the story, although there are clear moments of affection that ultimately results in consummation.  Notably, though, the filmmaking of this sequence allows the boys relative privacy as Matt Henley’s camera which, until now had worked to highlight the male physique – not to mention the gorgeous natural photography, as well – instead films them as a knotted mass, again rubbing up against the notion that this is a cut and dry romance.  With the exception of some of the talent management scenes very late in the second act, this sequence is one of the weaker moments of the film because it feels as if it does not belong.  One on hand, Punch is very much working on the framework of a will they/won’t they story, but in a pivotal moment with his dad, Jim expresses his frustration that the machismo society which has infected his small town has made it all but impossible for his friend to live authentically in land that is ancestrally his.  It is understandable why Ings took the story out of the realm of being strictly platonic, but to have a film about male friendship such as Jim and Whetu’s would have been a very bold move within the genre and it is also where the story feels most comfortable. To give credit where it is due, it is still refreshing to see a story such as this show the possibility of friendship between straight and gay men. 

Whetu is one of the major points of contention in the film, initially a very bristly personality given how he is treated by his classmates and the town, he eventually warms up to Jim and they begin to explore a friendship together.  Saddled with the same amount of cliches about his character as Oosterhof was with Jim, Hayes is similarly able to breathe life into the character and bring Whetu into a fully realized person.  It is a true testament to his performance as for much of the middle act, Whetu is unconscious in a hospital bed, yet still, Hayes’ presence haunts the film.  It is unfortunate that most of his shining moments are ones laden with tragedy, but there is an admirable resilience about the character that makes his moments of joy all that more precious and also helps to keep him present throughout the narrative even when it teeters back into Jim’s court.  In the middle of the story, when the shack which he views as his sanctuary from the cruelties of the world is ransacked, Hayes brings such pain to the realization of what has happened before donning his nail polish, makeup, and shawl as armor in a sign of defiance.  This low point, in conjunction with what follows, sets up a wonderful bit of juxtaposition for the penultimate scene of the film in which Whetu is finally free to be himself in Sydney. 

The final major player in Punch is Roth as the father and stern coach who is looking to extend his own legacy through the growing triumphs of his son.  Again, taking the tropes of an aging star living vicariously through the next generation, Roth takes a time-tested arc and brings a poignant human quality to the role.  Falling victim to Ings’ over-ambitious story, audiences are not given as robust an arc regarding his terminal diagnosis and betting his fortune on his son’s fight, but Roth manages to command the screen in every scene he is in, even with the stark physical difference of Oosterhof whose mass towers over and engulfs his on-screen father.  The chemistry between the two is highly volatile, but so engaging to watch as the two spar on screen with Stan doing everything he can to set his son up for success, but unable or unwilling to realize that his actions are driving a wedge between the two instead of bringing them closer.  It is a tragic arc with a meaningful resolution, it just begs to be expanded on a little bit more, even if it pushed the film closer to the two-hour mark; there is more than enough story here to support that extension.  

Ings constructs a really moving feature that seeks to break down societal norms regarding gender and sexual identity in the sports world.  His connection to the material, sparked from a personal tragedy in the writer/director’s own life, is clearly present throughout, and the same respectful attitude is shown by the three key players.  With an evocative score by David Long and luscious scenery that envelopes the tender performances, Punch is a film that delivers a refreshing look at how queer narratives are composed by remaining so true to itself and not caving to the expectations of the genre.  It is a great examination of how traditional masculine ideals can coexist with queer nature, and while it may not end as sweetly as Francis Lee’s God’s Own Country (2017), it also does not end as gruesomely as Eliza Hittman’s Beach Rats (2017).  Rather, Ings chooses to wrap his tale up with a note of acceptance and resilience; hardly a fairytale, but hardly a tragedy, either, imbuing a genre so often mired in loss with a refreshing bit of optimism.