When filmmaker Rachel Morrison first read the script for The Fire Inside, she had never heard of record-breaking boxer Claressa Shields. “How did I not know this amazing human story and this amazing athlete story?” Morrison says. “It felt like I had a chance to try to change that.”
In 2018, she became the first woman nominated for the Academy Award for Best Cinematography for her work on Mudbound. It was the same year that Black Panther debuted, a film that Morrison also shot. But afterwards, offers for projects on par with these movies didn’t come. “Most Marvel films are not Black Panther, and most independent films are not Mudbound,” she says. So, Morrison, who has directed for television before, began thinking about helming a feature herself. She thought, “I’d almost rather do this thing that scares me and start over to an extent than do something that feels like a step backwards.”
As a cinematographer, she’d been happy to be out of the spotlight. “I felt very safe and protected and comfortable behind the lens.” Given the level of vulnerability that comes with directing—along with the scrutiny and interviews and red carpets—she knew that whatever project she took on would have to be worth it. A year later, The Fire Inside came her way.
Producer Alicia Holmes had watched the documentary T-Rex and brought Barry Jenkins on to write a script about boxer Claressa Shields (who goes by the titular nickname in the ring). In 2012, 17-year-old Shields became the first American woman to win Olympic gold in boxing and first American boxer ever to win gold in back-to-back Games. Holmes and Jenkins decided early on that it needed to be directed by a woman. “They saw something in me that maybe I didn’t even see myself,” Morrison says.
While T-Rex follows Shields through her first historic Olympic win, Morrison’s film keeps rolling, showing the difficult, quiet months that come after. “Nobody gets to stay up on top, even the people who have it so much easier than Claressa,” Morrison says. She felt a responsibility to do justice to Shields’s story, one that’s still very much being written. Jenkins had sat down with Shields early on to discuss the nuances of her early life and relationships; he shared the script with her and Morrison stayed in touch throughout production. But it was breakout star Ryan Destiny who ultimately brings Shields’s story to life onscreen. According to Morrison, Destiny was undeniable in her audition and her rigor—she spent six months training—paid off. By the end, Destiny was doing her own stunts.
With The Fire Inside, Morrison got to upend the traditional sports movie, drawing inspirational moments from both athletic victories and personal ones. It’s in this space that Morrison, whose style is more naturalistic, thrives. Early in the film, we see a young Claressa rummaging through the kitchen cabinets at home, looking for anything to eat. She finally finds a can of beans, but nothing to open it with. Claressa’s life, as the film shows, is full of highs and lows. Growing up in Flint, Michigan, Claressa experiences poverty and sexual abuse. She shares a bed with her two siblings and weathers the volatility of her sometimes-neglectful mother, Jackie (Olunike Adeliyi). She runs long distances to the gym and finds solace in boxing and in her coach, Jason Crutchfield (Bryan Tyree Henry). He’s a father figure to her, “protective, supportive, nurturing—maybe overstepping,” Morrison says. With the odds stacked against her, Claressa manages to make it to the top, twice, miraculously without changing her barbed character or ignoring where she’s from.
Morrison found immense inspiration in Flint itself. Principal photography was shot in Toronto, but all exteriors were shot in Flint, something Morrison fought for. “Flint is too specific, too special, too much of a character to try to cheat it,” she says. “This shouldn’t feel like Anywhere, USA. We had to get back to Flint and that was the one hill I was willing to die on.” With enough convincing, the team was able to shoot in Flint in both summer and winter months, lending the film and raw and real feeling.
Morrison may not have grown up in Flint as a boxer, but she does know what it’s like to work in an industry where, by her estimate, just six or seven percent of cinematographers on studio films are women. (According to the USC Annenberg Inclusion Initiative, the number is only 4.5 percent.) People would often question whether she could handle a 50-pound camera, to which she argues, “Of course I can.” It recalls of a moment in the film, when Coach Jason asks his wife if she thinks he should let Claressa fight. (He had a policy of not coaching girls.) “Don’t see no reason why she can’t,” his wife says. “She’s got hands.”
The year of her Oscar nomination, Morrison had also wrapped production on Against All Enemies at eight months pregnant. “If this industry is ever going to change, we have to get past the taboos and normalize things like pumping on set,” she says. There were times when she’d have to tell her colleagues, “‘I hope this doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but tough because I can’t leave every three hours. You’re just going to have to sit with me on the dolly while I pump.’”
Morrison doesn’t shy away from who she is and the things that are important. She brings her kids (now aged six and nine) to set when possible. “I am a better mother for being fulfilled in my career—and they get to see that,” she says. She has spent years absorbing what works and what doesn’t and, with this project, was able to create the kind of set she thrives on, one that’s respectful and inclusive. “Either people are clenched and miserable or they’re having the time of their lives. Life is too short and we’re often giving up time with our families. It should be a family. It should be jovial and playful.”
What separates The Fire Inside from every other sports movie is what it shows after the win. When the cash and endorsement deals don’t come rushing in after her first Olympic medal, Claressa gets knocked down—only to rise up stronger later on. Since going pro, Shields has never lost a fight. It’s a story of resilience, authenticity, and family. It’s no coincidence that Morrison’s debut feature follows a fighter who has had to prove herself—more than once—in a space where women are scarce, where it’s often not enough to be excellent at the thing you do.
