The Fits

Punch­es are swapped for pirou­ettes and the side effects of hys­te­ria in Anna Rose Holmer’s debut fea­ture film, about a young tomboy who joins an all-girl dance troupe. Ten year old Toni (Roy­al­ty High­tow­er) is train­ing to be a box­er – one who stands in the cen­tre of the ring, steely faced, admin­is­ter­ing pow­er­ful and pre­cise punches.

Inspired by her old­er broth­er Jer­maine (Da’Sean Minor), she begins to watch the dance troupe that prac­tice next door with grow­ing fas­ci­na­tion. A seed of curios­i­ty blos­soms with­in her. When she decides to join their ranks, a mys­te­ri­ous plague strikes the old­er girls. They begin falling to the floor and fit­ting, jerk­ing and foam­ing at the mouth.

Their rou­tines aren’t exact­ly del­i­cate – The Lioness­es stomp, thump and crump with as much fiery aggres­sion as the boys who box. But Toni isn’t quite able to catch the beat, con­tort­ing her bony body and awk­ward­ly adorn­ing her­self with the mark­ers of girl-ness. Accom­pa­nied by new friend and charm­ing com­ic foil Beezy (Alex­is Neblett), she pierces her ears (with a safe­ty pin) and steps into a sequinned leo­tard. But these fem­i­nine dec­o­ra­tions nev­er stick. Toni peels a tem­po­rary tat­too from her bicep, picks off the gold pol­ish from her fin­ger­nails and takes out the ear­rings, which become infected.

Tomboy­ish­ness is a recur­ring theme in com­ing-of-age films that fea­ture black girls (The Fits fea­tures an all African-Amer­i­can cast). From titles like Spike Lee’s Crook­lyn to Gina Prince-Bythewood’s Love & Bas­ket­ball and beyond, the female pro­tag­o­nists find them­selves caught between gen­dered spaces. Pre­pu­bes­cent Toni pos­sess­es the abil­i­ty to move between these spaces with­out fix­ing her­self com­fort­ably in either – part­ly due to Hightower’s com­mand­ing and qui­et­ly force­ful presence.

Writer/​director Holmer’s deci­sion to lim­it most of the action to the com­mu­ni­ty cen­tre where both the dancers and the box­ers train cre­ates a pri­vate world, sealed off from par­ents and teach­ers who remain out of the frame at all times. The gym, the lock­er room, the wind­ing, labyrinthine hall­ways are often emp­ty. Cin­e­matog­ra­ph­er Paul Yee almost always ensures Toni is visu­al­ly dis­lo­cat­ed from the oth­er ele­ments – human or oth­er­wise – with­in the frame.

Fur­ther dis­so­nance is cre­at­ed by use of music. Holmer resists rely­ing on pop cues, allow­ing, Dan­ny Ben­si and Saun­der Jurriaans’s jagged, aton­al score to con­trol the woozy atmos­phere instead. (The com­pos­ing duo cre­at­ed sim­i­lar­ly dis­cor­dant sound­scapes for wacky wannabe B‑movie Ene­my and cult-themed thriller Martha Mar­cy May Mar­lene.)

Some may find the film’s lean run­ning time of 72 min­utes too slight, though Holmer’s ear­ly instinct for brevi­ty is a smart one. The sto­ry­telling is ele­gant­ly eco­nom­i­cal, char­ac­terised by a loose­ness and a spon­tane­ity that’s root­ed in authen­tic­i­ty. By col­lab­o­rat­ing with real life dance team The Q‑Kidz and the Cin­ci­nat­ti com­mu­ni­ty in which the film is set, Holmer cre­ates the feel­ing that any­thing can happen.

As for the fits them­selves, Holmer is care­ful when it comes to offer­ing lit­er­al expla­na­tions for the events on screen. She resists deliv­er­ing direct state­ments, instead trust­ing view­ers to draw their own con­clu­sions and answer the ques­tion at the core of her film: why is being a teenage girl so traumatic?