You feel like you can smell the gym in Beck Williams’ emotionally wrought film, Pace. We recognize the sports logos and the equipment–the hardness of the rubber and how it sticks in your nostrils. Williams’ film opens with the sounds of fists slamming into a punching bag, but we soon notice how that very physical sound represents how we beat ourselves up as we attempt to not suffer in silence.
Williams plays Remy, a transmasculine boxer and employee at a small gym where he notices Joey, another trans man who is nervous to be back in this space after his top surgery. After watching Joey’s progress alone, Remy kindly offers to let Joey stay after hours to use the gym without prying eyes. They spar, sweat, and a bond quickly blossoms.
We think that Remy is going to be a form of caregiver, but we soon realize that the push and pull between these two men switches off. It highlights how members of the community feel an instant kindship to help one another, and to do it in a traditionally masculine space heightens that bond. There is an earnest respect that Williams and Bex Taylor-Klaus easily transmit on screen. Their chemistry is tangible.
Remy struggles with his own dysmorphia, and he does not tell his wife, Vanessa, that his health benefits have accepted to cover the cost of his top surgery. He has to unravel his own feelings, and the moments Remy spends alone–hiding or punching the hell out of a bag–are charged with so many tangled thoughts. It’s almost as if he is telling himself to use his fists to crack through his own frustrations, and Joey’s unexpected generosity is unexpected. Williams lays himself bare with this performance.
We resist help from others to avoid being pitied or seen a certain way, and Williams paints the portrait of connection when we don’t even realize we need it. We can physically fight until our bodies feel weak and exhausted, but granting ourselves grace is the ultimate fight.
Pace is streaming through Out On Films virtual progamming through October 6.
