Gillespie (“Fright Night”) invites viewers, via a mockumentary-style format, to delve into the cockeyed events that led to the insanity that was the “police baton smash on the knee heard around the world” that was committed against Harding’s fiercest rival Nancy Kerrigan. Skillfully, Gillespie and screenwriter Steven Rogers’ (“Love the Coopers”) arousing approach to retelling this incident that gave an entertaining appeal to Kerrigan’s “Beauty” and Hardin’s perceived “Beast” is rather brilliant in its corrosive campiness.

However, I, Tonya does not give the audience the definitive answers to all the questions surrounding the Kerrigan attack that was carried out so awkwardly in January 1994 at a Detroit ice arena by Tonya’s ex-husband Jeff Gillooly (played convincingly by Sebastian Stan, “Captain America: Civil War”). Left open is whether Gillooly and his moronic misfit helpers acted alone in the plan to take out Kerrigan to benefit his ex-wife’s chances at the Olympic Games or if Tonya Harding (Margot Robbie, “Suicide Squad”) had known all along what transpired and was complicit in this botched scheme to cripple Kerrigan. Invitingly, I, Tonya turns these scandalous proceedings into a fun-loving, trashy-themed train-wreck of deplorable dunces turning on each other and offering their unsavory take of their heinous actions.

As a dark comedy, the film details the struggled upbringing of a young Harding — a vulnerable girl with an elusive auto mechanic father and harsh/hardened low-paid waitress mother LaVona Golden (masterfully portrayed by Allison Janney, “The Girl on the Train”). Despite being sickly, poor and neglected in the middle of nowhere Portland, Oregon, young Tonya’s interest in taking skating lessons would cultivate into something spectacular — her eventual glory as U.S. champion figure skater and World Champion silver medal winner. No one could think that the desperate and disillusioned Tonya Harding would qualify for the Winter Olympics in 1992 (Albertville, France) and 1994 (Lillehammer, Norway). Nor could they see that she would become the first American woman to successfully execute the Triple Axel move in international competition. It is not easy to overcome parental abuse at the hands of a diabolical and demanding mother or spousal abuse by a gun-wielding, unstable husband. Nevertheless, give credit where credit is due as Harding’s perseverance prevailed in spite of the personalized demons of her past.

Robbie channels the defiant skating scapegoat with a notable pugnacious spark that resonates with blustery candidness. She is the willing villainess who enthusiastically picks apart through criticism as she claims her innocence in the name of unfairness and getting a bad rap based on the wrongdoing of others. Still, Robbie’s tawdry take as Harding manages to invoke sympathy on the one-time Olympic standout thus forcing the audience to question their skepticism about her, even if only for a moment. As the “Mommy Dearest” element in the movie, Janney’s equally tortured performance as the despicable and critical LaVona, a woman looking to achieve a sense of justification through her daughter’s infamy, is delightfully realized in devilish fashion. Janney’s fiendish and opportunist take as the overbearing, potty-mouthed version of June Cleaver is (by my standards) actually good enough to be considered for a best supporting actress Oscar-nod.

The same goes for Stan’s stunning portrayal of the maligned Jeff Gillooly — a miserable miscreant of a man that one simply cannot take their eyes off. Additionally, Paul Walter Hauser’s (“Kingdom” TV series) over-sized, oafish bodyguard wannabe Shawn Eckhardt is comically winning as the bumbling sidekick to Stan’s thin, no-nonsense Gillooly. The minor oversight in the film may be Caitlin Carver’s (“Rules Don’t Apply”) seemingly invisible turn as the victimized Nancy Kerrigan because she seems rather incidental to the storyline. But hey . . . this is a platform for Tonya Harding, so I suppose elaborating on Kerrigan’s dilemma would undermine the genuine base of Harding’s meaty profile . . .

Tonya Harding, the down-and-out, tabloid tart may not have been a suitable ice darling for Olympic judges, but I, Tonya earns critical respect for its shrewd commentary on the instant gratification of tabloid television/sleazy journalism (led by a creep reporter played by Bobby Cannavale, “Danny Collins”) and the ugly business of high-stakes competition. It makes for a jolting, well-versed satire of sorts, although its true roots remain steadfast in the puzzling rise and self-destruction of Harding’s manufactured celebrity.

So let me tell you about Steve Gleason. About as far from the old “dumb jock” cliché as you could get, Gleason is smart and sensitive, thoughtful and funny. It’s hard to imagine anyone not warming to him straight away.

As a player for the New Orleans Saints, he became a hero to many when he “blocked the punt” of the Atlanta Falcons. Now if you’re anything like me, you will have no idea what that means. And to be honest with you, after the film explains it, I still had no idea. But, it doesn’t linger on the point; a knowledge of American football is not a prerequisite for watching this film. Just take it on faith, Steve Gleason blocking the punt was a big deal.

Gleason had been retired from professional football for a few years when he received the devastating diagnosis of amyotrophic lateral sclerosis (ALS), a motor neuron disease more commonly known as Lou Gehrig’s disease. ALS is a progressive illness that gradually robs the sufferer of the ability to move, and eventually breathe, and as such, it kills most of its victims. What makes this diagnosis even more cruel is that a few weeks afterwards, he finds out that his wife Michel is pregnant. And so, unsure if he’s going to live to see his child grow up, Gleason makes a video diary for his son.

It sounds like a devastating watch, and it often is. ALS is a brutal disease, and it seems all the more tragic when it strikes someone who had made their living from pushing their body to extremes. The documentary is unswervingly honest; there isn’t one point of the movie where it seems that anything is being glossed over. Some scenes are excruciating. At one point in the film, Steve’s father brings him to a faith healer, much to the fury of Michel. Of course it doesn’t work, but for one brief moment, Steve believes it will, and it is agonizing to witness.

The hardest part to watch, is the progression of the illness; we see Steve go from full strength, to wobbly and slurring, to wheelchair bound and unable to speak, at a pace that feels dizzying. To see the deterioration take place so rapidly in front of your eyes is disturbing, but it just adds to the intensity of emotion that Gleason provokes.

A newborn baby is hard enough to care for, but Michel also has to look after her husband, who by the time his son is born can do as little for himself as the baby. The relationship between the couple gets severely strained, and there were times where I felt awkward watching; what happens is so personal, it doesn’t feel right to be viewing it on a big screen in a theater with strangers. But the film is committed to showing all the effects of ALS, both physical and emotional, and that’s just what it does.

What makes Gleason bearable is that Steve, Michel and Blair (Steve’s carer), have such vibrant, unyielding senses of humor. In their darkest hours, laughter is never far away, and it often stems from the most surprising sources; one of the most entertaining scenes is when Steve is receiving an enema. It’s a cliché, but is apt nonetheless — this film is a genuine emotional roller-coaster. The tears and the laughter work together to create a film that’s so powerful and raw, by the time it’s finished you feel like you’ve really been through something big.

Despite the unimaginable pain that the Gleason family go through, the film manages to be uplifting. Whilst there’s no conquering ALS, at least not yet, Steve, Michel and their family and friends do their best to cope with it, with buckets of good humor and admirable honesty. I’m so glad it’s getting a UK release; Gleason is a film that deserves the widest audience possible.

The brain trust behind the strained The Bronze is the film’s star/co-writer Melissa Rauch (from TV’s long-running “The Big Bang Theory”) and her fellow scriber and husband Winston Rauch. In theory The Bronze had the potential to riff marvelously on the trappings of fleeting celebrity while adding some biting commentary about the jingoistic sensationalism of American competition. Sure, there are a few amusing moments in The Bronze worthy of a few chuckles here and there. For the most part, however, the movie feels uncharacteristically stiff and never delivers the hearty cynical laughs it strives for so clumsily. Instead, the film’s demanding has-been hussy and her endless self-absorbed and self-entitled sense of importance registers as distant and wooden.

Yesteryear’s gymnast darling Hope Ann Greggory (Rauch) was the petite powerhouse that captured the nation’s undivided attention after winning the bronze medal while competing on a fatal Achilles tendon. Hope was, quite simply, the toast of the town in the 2004 Olympic Games. One would say she was America’s sweetheart and the spirit of the country’s “never say die” mentality. Unfortunately for the celebrated young woman, her foot injury ended her continued Olympian career. Now twelve years later Hope basks in obscurity in small town Amherst, Ohio where she is no longer treated like a sporting queen nationwide with the few exceptions of seldom local notoriety.

Noticeably the acid-tongued Hope still holds on to her newsworthy nostalgia highlighting her cherished heyday of constant praise and pride. She has become tyrannical in mood and madness with demanding temper tantrums and pushiness. Hope has become relentlessly obnoxious and her unbearable tendencies run deep. She refuses to let go of yesterday’s stardom and will do everything it takes to maintain her waning worthiness in the public eye. In fact, Hope still shamelessly wears her Olympian Team USA warm-up suit with her bronze medal draped around her neck.  Additionally, she craves special attention and expects free things offered to her. Hope’s sheer pettiness is only matched by her need to stay relevant.

Besides being holed up in her bedroom full of her Olympic achievements as she watches old tapes of her past gymnastic performances, Hope really does not do much with her pathetic existence although she manages to frequent the mall and have free food served to her from a pizza shop willing to cater to her bratty whims. Her brow-beaten, mail-carrier father Stan (Gary Cole, “Tammy”) daringly suggests that her daughter do something with her talents such as going into coaching. However, the spoiled Hope reminds her Daddy Dearest that she is a star and not a coach relegated to the background of grooming another star-in-the-making.

Hope’s enabling dad is not the only thorn in her side as others have been subjected to her ire as well. Former teammate Lance Tucker (Sebastian Stan, “Captain America: The Winter Soldier”) effectively gets under her skin with his brand of pomposity. When Olympic teen hopeful Maggie Townsend (Haley Lu Richardson, “The Young Kieslowski”) arrives on the scene and shows some excitable enthusiasm as she threatens to become the newest Olympian heroine this does not sit will with the raging Hope. This gets further complicated because the youngish Maggie actually idolizes the nasty-minded Hope. Eventually (and predictably) Hope agrees to mentor the giddy Maggie as she is assuming the present-day role of America’s fresh-faced high-flying honeybun. Gone are the days of the desperate Hope stealing money and perusing through undelivered mail in daddy Stan’s parked postal truck. Reluctantly, Hope trains the chronically cheery Maggie with an arm’s distance length method of feeling. Soon, Hope realizes the therapeutic measures in learning to revolve and give back some of her competitive wisdom to her talented charge.

The Bronze is proud of its naughty impishness as it does tap into some slight subversive themes especially when Rauch’s Hope is let loose with her random bitchiness. Still, the movie is not consistent with its snickering mean streak and decides to unsteadily morph into a rudimentary redemptive fable. Hope Ann Greggory had spent the better half of the film demonstrating her blustery personality and causing plastic plants to wilt in her incorrigible presence. So now softening Hope in a connect-the-dots conclusion usurps the purpose of the narrative’s aimless scathing barbs. The edginess of Rauch’s Hope character was mildly amusing but never really grounded in grand-standing outlandishness to the point of relatable cynicism. The heartwarming vibes simply gives this synthetic romp an uneven balance that the nimble Hope Ann Greggory cannot recover from on her talented toes.

The Bronze also wallows in its share of in-house gymnastic sex gags, waif-like flexible females parading around for whispering titillation effect and the usual juvenile references to body parts. The Rauches’ spotty script is stretched thin and the hit-and-miss nature of Melissa Rauch’s Olympian bad-mouth Barbie doll is met with mixed results. Somehow Rauch’s hardcore harlot gets lost in the shuffle regarding her questionable acerbic comic timing and that spells disaster for an indie dramedy that relies on its devilish wittiness. Even real-life gymnastic greats such as Dominique Dawes and Olga Korbut are merely tossed in as a minor salute to the film’s Olympic-laced background.

Grating and repetitive, The Bronze manages to curiously finish fourth in a two-man contest . . . much to the dismay of caustic cutie Hope Ann Greggory.

This rare sports/comedy/drama matches the charm of its influence by focusing on the perseverance and humorous undertone of “The Eagle.” Director Dexter Fletcher (“Wild Bill”) does a tremendous job of balancing the three tones of the film, by carefully detailing each stage of Edward’s life, leading up to him representing his country in the 1988 Winter Olympics ski jumping competition.

Beginning at the childhood of Eddie’s life we are introduced to an exuberant kid with aspirations of being in the Olympics, (despite having an unexplained leg brace). So aspiring, that he leaves his home in the dead of the night to travel to the Olympics to the dismay of his parents. His unbridled enthusiasm as a child instantly wins over the hearts of the audience, creating a unique underdog personality.

After getting rid of his temporary handicap, we are treated to an upbeat training montage of Eddie simulating Olympic sports in his backyard. From weightlifting to javelin throw, Edwards fails at each and every sport, which timely introduces the audience to the films comedic tone.

As Eddie grows into his young adult self, (played by “Kingsman: The Secret Service” star Taron Egerton) his talent doesn’t seem to catch up with is growth. He soon concedes to his failures, gives up on his Olympic aspirations and joins his father in his plastering business (a position that is clearly unnatural for Eddie but is sensible to his conservative father).

Luckily for Eddie, he has a supportive mother who challenges him to keep striving for his goals. So after a very short stint of working with his father, Eddie comes up with another far-fetched idea. He decides that since he cannot participate in the “regular” Olympics, he will attempt to join the Winter Olympics as a ski jumper, as he was already an established skier.

Without hesitation Eddie makes a drastic choice to immediately move out of town near a ski resort to begin training on his own. He steals his fathers van and travels hours away on a hunch that if he challenges himself, he can realize his goal.

But if only it were so easy. Lack of discernible talent is one obstacle, but what underdog story is complete without clichéd rivals and naysayers? Eddie the Eagle provides many for Eddie to face off against, but what’s surprising is not only did most his family and all his peers and competing ski jumpers doubt him, he was actually doubted by his country’s Olympic committee.

The committee, actually, constantly blocked Edwards from participating, even when he was just as qualified as everyone around him. Sure, his style was unconventional and he was quite clumsy, but he did not deserve the dismissive treatment he received. He was for all purposes pure-hearted — he never had any ulterior motives — all he wanted to do was participate.

To finally make that happen, Edwards seeks out an experienced skier to give him confidence and intangible skills to send him to the next level. Unfortunately, that’s not what he finds; instead he gets former skier and current alcoholic Bronson Peary (Hugh Jackman, “Pan”). Peary, to his credit however, was a winning ski jumper for the United States Olympic team and was even trained by well-regarded ski jumping coach Warren Sharp (Christopher Walken, “Jersey Boys”). It doesn’t take long for Peary to see a passion in Edwards that he didn’t have at his age. This spawns a mentor/protégé relationship that reels the audience in and forms an emotional bond. Jackman and Egerton should be praised for their impressionable chemistry on screen, which seemed almost effortless.

After a strenuous amount of training — along with an almost absurd amount of adversity — Edwards finds himself as the sole representative of his country in the 1988 Winter Olympics. He begins to become a worldwide rags to riches story; fans love his relatable, casual personality. To his displeasure though, his introduction to fame doesn’t bring with it recognition from his peers. He is further shunned by them, and now, even loses some of the support of his mentor.

Yet again, instead of becoming comfortable with his new-found fame or calling it quits, Edwards sees this as a competitive sign. He intends to earn his position even if it kills him and so without anyone’s instruction to do so, he enlists to participate in the hardest competition that the Olympic ski jumping sport has to offer: The 90 meter jump.

This extremely difficult task has only been attempted by the best skiers the world has ever seen, let alone completed. At this point Edwards has already attained injuries for jumps that were half as difficult as this one. None of this stops Eddie — he has this inner motivation that is so greatly displayed by Egerton, that you almost feel as though you’re watching this event happen in real-time and rooting for him will somehow bring him success.

Without giving away the ending of the film, I can say that Eddie the Eagle pulls a familiar, uplifting emotion out of the audience that hasn’t been this uniquely displayed in some time. Fletcher’s directing style took advantage of the film’s visually compelling moments, the ski jumps were beautifully filmed and edited. He also does a great job of making the film’s pacing seamless, each stage being completed in the perfect amount of time to progress the story. The cast is experienced, the plot is solid and overall, not only will you enjoy this film, you’ll remember it. And most importantly you’ll remember Eddie “The Eagle” Edwards.

Breaking the color barrier.

Making a film based upon an iconic figure, such as Lincoln or Gandhi, forces one to walk a thin line between legend and humanization. How do we show the warts (no pun intended in Honest Abe’s case) and foibles and yet still uphold the impeccable character of the subject. Such was the task of writer/director Brian Helgeland (“A Knight’s Tale,” screenwriting credit for “L.A. Confidential“), in the newest Warner Bros. release, 42, a movie based on two years in the life of professional baseball player Jack Roosevelt Robinson.

Known better as Jackie Robinson, he became the first black player in the Major Leagues, breaking the longtime color barrier in 1947 (other African-Americans such as Josh Gibson, Roy Campanella and Satchel Paige were considered, but nixed for various reasons, although the latter two eventually joined the Majors).

Starring relative newcomer Chadwick Boseman (“The Kill Hole“), who bears enough of a resemblance of Robinson to make his performance passable, if not workmanlike, along with ancient Harrison Ford as Brooklyn Dodger General Manager Branch Rickey, Helgeland has created an earnest and sincere biopic that deserves telling (even though Robinson himself starred in the first biography of the man in 1950). Unfortunately it runs a bit long in the tooth and takes little, if any, chances.

It plays out like the director was trying to film Mt. Rushmore by splicing in scenes from “The Natural;” it works on a fundamentally laudatory level, yet seems almost detached at times because the outcome is a known quantity. Little dramatic license was exhibited, so there were really no surprises for the audience. The film “Titanic” had the same problem, yet James Cameron was able to add some interesting moments here and there, enough to keep the project afloat for more than two hours.

42 runs about 128 minutes (although at times it seems to go on a lot longer), and contains more than enough examples of blatant race-baiting that seems strangely foreign to today’s viewers, but were very real at the time. Alan Tudyk (“Transformers: Dark of the Moon“), for example, has the thankless task of playing the redneck manager of the Philadelphia Phillies who’s every other utterance is the “n” word and has a cracker accent that comes straight from central casting.

But Robinson is not only verbally abused, he’s also beaned, spiked, spit on, boycotted, thrown at and degraded in other various and sundry ways. And except for a meltdown in an Ebbett’s Field tunnel, he maintains the grace reserved for a demigod. Boseman’s clenched jaw and stern demeanor is given a rest — ever so slightly — when he interacts with wife, Rachel (Nicole Beharie, “The Last Fall“) and black reporter Wendell Smith (Andre Holland, “1600 Penn” TV series).

Reflecting.

Harrison Ford, as the man who signed Robinson, once again goes into his gravelly-voiced curmudgeon mode that he seems to have been stuck in since 2006’s “Firewall,” but at least his Rickey has passion and heart. He pushes the often-reluctant star to forget the catcalls, insults and slurs and just play the game, to beat his oppressors on the field. His scenes with Boseman are the best in the picture. Robinson’s teammates, though, are not given much to do but either stare angrily at the colored interloper or gush in wonderment at his amazing diamond skills. Two exceptions to this are pitcher Ralph Branca (Hamish Linklater, “Battleship“) and Kentucky-bred shortstop Pee Wee Reese (Lucas Black, “The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift“), the former a bumbling but sincere admirer, while the latter actually puts his life and reputation on the line to befriend the black ballplayer.

For slight comic relief, Max Gail (of the old “Barney Miller” TV series) plays doddering manager Burt Shotton, who comes out of retirement to replace the suspended skipper Leo Durocher (Christopher Meloni, “Law & Order: SVU“).

Ultimately, 42 is inspiring, but not as entertaining as it could have been. Had the deity’s nose been tweaked, 42 could have been more like “61*,” the Billy Crystal homage film about Roger Maris and the 1961 home run chase: True to life, but a lot of fun with more drama and more human interest.