Rachel Morrison has assembled a dream team, but their combined efforts don’t exactly push this story beyond reproach. The Fire Inside lacks the power to meet its true potential.

In your garden variety sports drama, the final victory is akin to a happily ever after. It is everything your scrappy underdog spends their time fighting for; their on-screen lives are defined by the pursuit of it. And if you’ve watched enough Rocky movies, you know that it’s only obtainable after a few inspiring pep talks, a pulse-pounding training montage, and a whole lot of blood, sweat and tears. One needn’t stray too far from that brief when crafting a sports movie — but that’s exactly what cinematographer Rachel Morrison sets out to do with The Fire Inside, her stirring directorial debut.

Morrison’s subject is the inimitable Claressa Shields, a legendary boxer with a litany of record-breaking accomplishments. Winning the gold at the 2012 Olympics — and breaking a decades-long losing streak for American boxers in the process — was just the first of many triumphs. She’d go on to become the first American boxer to win back-to-back Olympic medals, and one of the most vocal advocates for equal pay between male and female athletes, all before turning 30. Shields is not your typical athlete, so it follows that The Fire Inside is not your typical sports biopic. It slips left when you expect it to go right, exploring the disappointing reality check that can manifest after an exhilarating victory. It’s a risk that mostly pays off, as it opens the door for a more thoughtful, personal story. But in its efforts to subvert expectations, it keeps a truly compelling narrative from taking hold.

Our story, penned by Moonlight director Barry Jenkins, introduces us to Claressa as a determined, laconic young girl (Jazmin Headley). She’s only 11 years old when she begins training as a boxer in earnest, and getting into the ring is a battle in itself. Growing up in Frog Town, an embattled neighborhood in Flint, Michigan, means that Claressa is virtually on her own. Her father’s been behind bars for most of her life, and her hard-partying mom (Oluniké Adeliyi) can barely put food on the table, much less drive her to the boxing club the next town over. So she runs the whole way, earning the curiosity and respect of a part-time coach named Jason Crutchfield (Brian Tyree Henry). 

The Fire Inside admittedly has a lot of ground to cover, so it doesn’t spend much time in Claressa’s childhood. Once Jason decides to take her on as a pupil — a choice that defies the club’s strict “no girls allowed” policy — our story jumps forward six years, establishing our heroine (now played by Ryan Destiny) as a genuine Olympic contender. At 17, Claressa is known as “T-Rex,” a moniker that denotes her short reach and ferocity in equal measure. As she later tells a flustered rep for Team USA, she likes hitting people. She doesn’t care if boxing makes her a bully: it’s what she’s good at, and if she makes it into the Olympics, it could be the very thing that delivers her family from poverty. 

The road to the 2012 games will take Claressa through a fierce qualifying round in Shanghai, and force her to reckon with a gauntlet of distractions back home. Jenkins’ script moves at a brisk clip, speedrunning through Claressa’s new training regime, a burgeoning high school romance, and her tumultuous life at home in a flurry of brief scenes. For the most part, that pace works — especially for those who already know the beats of a boxing movie by heart — but it often forgets to flesh out Claressa’s inner world. 

Morrison’s debut works hard to establish a strong sense of place in Flint, and that focus goes a long way in fleshing out Claressa’s character. Still, we never get more than an impression of her, and so much of what we learn is revealed through stilted exposition. When Jason tells Claressa she’s “seen more in [her] 16 years than most have seen in their whole lives,” we just have to take his word for it. The Fire Inside is more concerned with telling than it is in showing, and that instinct cripples the film when it ought to be getting closer to its heroine.

What anchors this chapter of Claressa’s story is her relationship with Jason. Their dynamic is achingly familial at turns; at others bordering on dysfunction. Whenever they butt heads, The Fire Inside earns its searing namesake. Destiny and Henry play brilliantly off one another, manifesting a push and pull that oscillates between tender vulnerability, cagey banter, and seamless synergy. Claressa can’t hold her own in the ring without Jason in her corner: she barely qualifies for her first Olympics because he can’t afford to accompany her to Shanghai. But once they’re back together again, gunning for a gold medal in London, The Fire Inside crackles back to life. Morrison’s co-leads effortlessly elevate the film beyond your conventional underdog story — but it’s not always enough to save the story from itself.

It helps that Jenkins’ screenplay doesn’t stop at Claressa’s first Olympic victory. Her journey to London is just one part of The Fire Inside, and the film’s second half focuses on the aftermath of that history-making win. Claressa naturally expects something to change now that she’s got a gold medal to her name — but while Michael Phelps is enjoying the benefits of a Wheaties endorsement, her winnings are barely covering her mother’s bills. Everyone seems to want a piece of her success, from her father (Adam Clark), newly sprung from jail, to her pregnant younger sister. Claressa becomes the sole breadwinner overnight, and Jason — now pulling triple-duty as her coach, agent, and bodyguard — has to shield her from her family’s expectations all while securing her the deals she deserves and preparing her for the next Olympic season.

As Claressa and Jason navigate this new world, The Fire Inside hits its stride. The double standard for female athletes, female boxers in particular, may be the film’s most interesting issue, especially when it pits Claressa against stuffed shirts that don’t have her best interest at heart. Team USA cautions her against “sounding like a bully,” and encourages her to project a more feminine demeanor outside of the ring. Her struggle to accept their advice, and to get them to accept her in turn, is another kind of fight for her to win. It’d be an exhilarating complement to her literal boxing matches, if only The Fire Inside dedicated more time to it. Instead, Claressa’s crusade ultimately takes a backseat to domestic angst, forcing our heroine to reckon with her relationship to Flint, her family, and Jason.

Jenkins deserves credit for prioritizing emotional bouts alongside the physical, but at its weakest points it feels like only half of Claressa’s origin story. Her fight for equal pay, which she pursued in earnest after her Olympic wins, gets the prequel treatment here, tacked on like a footnote rather than a worthwhile theme to explore. It’s frustrating to watch The Fire Inside brush against greatness so often, especially knowing what its creators are capable of otherwise. Morrison has assembled a dream team, but their combined efforts don’t exactly push this story beyond reproach. As a character study, it’s entirely effective, thanks in great part to its cast. But as a comprehensive portrait of an athlete as decorated as Shields, The Fire Inside lacks the power to meet its true potential.

Grade: B-

Oscars Prospects:
Likely: None
Should be Considered: Best Supporting Actor (Brian Tyree Henry), Best Film Editing, Best Sound

Release Date: December 25, 2024
Where to Watch: In Theaters