“What do you think about girls’ boxing?” The man asking that is Jason Crutchfield (Brian Tyree Henry), the coach of the boys’ boxing club in Flint, Michigan. It’s 2012, and five years before he allowed one girl to join his club (even though it was against protocol): a sulky 11-year-old named Clarissa Shields, played by Jazmine Headley, and later, when she was older, by Ryan Destiny.
Clarissa, the heroine of “The Fire Inside,” has a fierce determination to make her way into the ring. It’s not as if she talks her way through it—Clarissa, we learn, doesn’t say much. She speaks with her fists. One of the reasons she’s so good at using it is because, by her own admission, she likes to hit people. She’s a bully, and she owns it. She comes from a place of extreme hardship: a father behind bars, a selfish, and sometimes mean, party-loving single mother (Olonike Adeleye) who can’t seem to keep her family out of poverty. Not to mention the atmosphere of hopelessness in a depressed society. What everyone tells Clarissa is that the only direction she can turn is sideways.
Jason, the coach, asks about girls’ boxing because he’s talking about a concept that’s foreign to, at this point, most of the world. Of course, as moviegoers, we may not feel that way. The concept of boxing for girls seemed revolutionary in 2000, when Michelle Rodriguez starred in “Girlfight,” a gripping drama directed by Karyn Kusama about a troubled Brooklyn high schooler who channels her aggression into the ring. But that was a long time ago, and the story The Fire Within tells is one of triumph and fame. In 2012, when Claressa Shields was 17 years old, her nickname “T. Rex” became the first American woman to win an Olympic gold medal in boxing. Four years later, she repeated the feat and became the first American boxer to win consecutive Olympic titles.
Given its relative youth, we expect a story of ferocity and determination, and of the unstoppable rise of a boxer who turns out to be a powerful dynamo. “The Fire Within” gives us this catharsis; It’s real sexy. However, the film is rooted in a sobering realization that trauma can be the flip side of triumph. The arc of the drama is built around a massive curveball that it throws at the audience. and That’s when the movie gets really good.
“The Fire Inside” is the first feature film from Rachel Morrison, the acclaimed cinematographer behind “Fruitvale Station,” “Mudbound” and “Black Panther,” and what she extends her distinctive lens to is an unparalleled quality. – The frills of reality This is the very new Hollywood. Watching “The Fire Within,” you can taste the cold of a Flint winter sunset, along with the desperate gloom of Clarissa’s home, where there is not enough in the cupboards. Most of all, you connect with Clarissa’s gruff and intimidating personality.
It’s not that she’s “unlovable.” Rising actor Ryan Destiny does a wonderful job of reining in her exuberance and redirecting it, so we can see how Clarissa’s spirit has turned in on itself. Clarissa is a girl of few words because she knows exactly where her words will take her – not far. The bond she forms with Jason, the coach, is one of respect laced with hostility. You might think that Brian Tyree Henry would have played this kind of role before – the gentry from down the house, the supportive drive in a disaffected way. But what it does this time is an emotional boost. Jason, who wears glasses and a goatee, is a gentle soul in over his head. He’s not a professional. He is a security guard who works as a trainer. He realizes that the only way he can deal with a hurricane like Clarissa is to do his best to channel and direct her energy. Yet she needed him. When she earns a spot at the 2012 Olympic Trials in Shanghai, Jason cannot afford to accompany her on his own dime. And his absence throws her away.
We’ve more or less brought back the sports movie genre for one thing: winning. But there’s an exciting twist coming in “The Fire Within,” as written by Barry Jenkins (“Moonlight”). Clarissa’s brutality in the ring is undeniable. The fight scenes are exciting, because Ryan Destiny makes you feel the destruction it delivers. And when you win that first gold medal, we feel the catharsis we want to feel, even as we think: “Wait, the movie’s only half done. Where can you go from here?”
A black teenager rises from the doldrums in Flint to become a world-famous Olympic star. Could there be a downside to this? This is it. Clarissa plans to continue her career as a boxer, which she can definitely do. But part of what she wants is for her success to translate into monetary value. You have achieved greatness, achieved fame, and made America proud. So what is its return?
Famous Olympic athletes make money through endorsement deals. But there is nothing for Clarissa. The shepherds walk to her and then walk away. Why? Because these deals are about companies promoting an image they think will appeal to them, and even in the 2000s, the image of a woman beating the crap out of people in a boxing ring is officially considered disgusting. “What do you think about boxing for girls?” The companies that control the wallet chains don’t like that.
“The Fire Inside” goes from being a sports drama to a sports story for American marketing, like “Air.” But “Air”, of course, wasn’t just a movie about selling shoes. It was about race, the internal meaning of Michael Jordan’s stardom, the value we place on a particular athlete and why. Marketing is one of our culture’s metaphysical billboards; In its capitalist way, it reflects equality and justice. So when Clarissa goes on a campaign to become a product endorser, and to equalize pay for female boxers training for the Olympic Games, this isn’t just something she does alongside boxing. It’s a form From boxing. She hits the system with her fist and tries to dismantle it. And Ryan Destiny’s performance becomes heroic. We see how Clarissa’s pout, her refusal to coddle anyone, and nothing less than her defiance, are the things she needs to win this battle.