Boxing drama ‘Fire Inside’ could use more punch
The best prizefighters enter the ring with a comprehensive strategy for attacking their opponent and emerging victorious. You’d think Oscar-winner Barry Jenkins would do likewise when he sat down to write “The Fire Inside,” his “Rocky”-esque version of the life and times of two-time Olympic gold-medal boxer Claressa “T-Rex” Shields.
As best as I can discern, little forethought went into a script unsure of the message it wants to convey, resulting in a spigot of ideas pouring out, from growing up poor and neglected in Flint, Michigan, to the second-class status of women’s sports to the special relationship between a coach and his highly gifted protégé. Oh, and while you’re at it, toss in an aside about being a survivor of sexual assault.
A focus on any of those aspects of Shields’ bittersweet story would have made for a compelling motion picture. But when the film strives to weave all of them into one 108-minute feature you wind up staggered by the flurry of gut punches Jenkins attempts to land. What exactly is it he wants us to take away from this kaleidoscope of concepts? Take your pick.
What ultimately shines through is the love/hate bond formed between Shields (singer/actress Ryan Destiny) and her trainer/guardian Jason Crutchfield (Brian Tyree Henry), a cable TV technician who moonlights as a boxing instructor. Before Claressa (Jazmin Headley) arrived in 2006 as a determined 10-year-old, his gym was a boys club. With Claressa in the house, it quickly becomes an arena for a battle of the sexes. A very one-sided one, I might add. But not in the way you may expect. In actuality, it’s Claressa beating the bejesus out of her male detractors, shutting them up permanently.
It won’t be the last time Claressa leaves a member of the opposite sex speechless. That most certainly includes her future prom date, Lil’ Zay (Taytem Douglas as a kid; Idrissa Sanogo as a teen), who gets his lights punched out daily as Claressa’s rival turned sparring partner. No more lip from him, unless it’s delivered in the form of a passionate kiss. Very cute. But their budding romance is as underdeveloped as Claressa’s rapid rise to national prominence. Jenkins simply can’t be bothered with details, as he breathlessly jumps six years ahead to Claressa’s appearance at the 2012 Olympic trials in China; and just minutes later, the Summer Olympics in London.
You’d think a girl who’d rarely ventured beyond the city limits of Flint would find the experience of distant lands and cultures awe-inspiring. But we’re in a hurry here, so screw that. Like the dog in “Up,” Jenkins and first-time director Rachel Morrison (an Oscar nominee for her cinematography on “Black Panther”) exhibit the shortest of attention spans, quickly yanking us away from Claressa basking in her Olympic glory and thrusting us back into her life of poverty and family dysfunction that she – and we – thought she’d left behind.
With no sponsors or endorsement deals in sight, she’s essentially back where she started. But Jenkins and Morrison aren’t as eager to explore Claressa’s financial plight as they are to expand on society’s expectations of how female athletes should behave, dress and use their sexuality for commercial gain. If Claressa wants to cash in, she’s going to need to sell out. Or so she’s told by Nicole Thompson (Jodie Foster look-alike Sarah Allen), head of marketing for Boxing USA. She suggests Claressa give makeup a shot and try to appear more feminine. While others in the know tell her that sponsors don’t want to be represented by a “bully who beats people up.” Funny, that never seemed to be an issue with Ali, Spinks and even Mike Tyson. Claressa also would like to know why male U.S. Olympians are allotted a monthly stipend of $3,000, while their female counterparts only get $1,000.
It’s a worthy subject, but it feels out of place in what’s apparently meant to be a feel-good movie championing a young woman’s rise from nothing to the top of the podium in a sport that for centuries was deemed too brutal for women. Jenkins and Morrison are so committed to spotlighting inequality that they spend the entire third act belaboring the issue when the emphasis should be on Claressa’s odds-defying triumph at the ripe old age of 16. That deserved to be the film’s climactic moment, not a mid-picture diversion.
It’s terrible plotting, yet the film somehow succeeds due to the potent chemistry between Destiny and Henry. They are terrific at playing off each other, whether the discourse involves the obvious generation gap or the love and compassion they afford each other whenever hope seems lost. They sell this “Rocky” rehash with everything they’ve got. And we willingly buy it, even when their partnership teems with contrived conflict.
That’s also true of Claressa’s turbulent home life in which she’s compelled to protect her two younger siblings from their volatile, irresponsible single mom (Olunike Adeliyi) who serves them cereal sans milk and openly parades her assortment of male overnight guests in front of them. It’s so unbearable, you’re tempted to cheer when Mom tosses her “uppity” daughter out the door, leaving Claressa with no one to turn to but Jason. He and his wife, Mikey (De’Adre Aziza), wholeheartedly welcome Claressa into their home, treating her like their own daughter. Again, the generosity shown by the Crutchfields should rate more than a handful of platitudes, which is all the movie has time for. Is Jenkins not curious about this remarkable display of benevolence?
It’s frustrating because there’s so much I’d like to learn about Claressa and especially Jason, who in my opinion is an even more amazing human being than his talented charge. He’s practically a saint, having rescued countless kids from a life on the streets. And the folksy manner in which Henry portrays Jason only renders the big lug more endearing.
As one of Hollywood’s finest character actors, I’m confident Henry will one day nab an Oscar. But it won’t be for “The Fire Inside,” a flick as generic as its instantly forgettable title. Destiny is right up there with him, graduating from roles in mediocre TV shows like “Star” and “Grown-ish” to what will likely be a lucrative film career. It’s a pleasure watching them interact with such dynamism. Together, they ignite and stoke “The Fire Inside,” a movie so schizophrenic yet so well-acted that one has no choice but to declare it a split decision.
Movie review
The Fire Inside
Rated: PG-13 for brief suggestive material, thematic elements, some strong language
Cast: Ryan Destiny, Brian Tyree Henry, Olunike Adeliyi, De’Adre Aziza, Sarah Allen, Jazmin Headley, Idrissa Sanogo and Adam Clark
Director: Rachel Morrison
Writer: Barry Jenkins
Runtime: 108 minutes
Where: In theaters Dec. 25
Grade: B-
