Behind the scenes of the Ramla Ali biopic: An epic story of blood, sweat and tears

September 2024: Be brave Ramla Ali calls her mother from her Airbnb in Malindi, Kenya. She braces herself. This is going to be a difficult conversation. Ali is here for the filming of "In the Shadows," the biopic based on her life. It's the final week of shooting, and they are recreating events from her early childhood in Somalia. Events that forced her family to leave the country, setting her on a path a continent away in London, to a life as a boxer, philanthropist and model. Today's scene portrays her brother's death. He was killed by an explosive that landed in the family's garden during the country's civil war that began in 1988. His body was taken to the hospital in a wheelbarrow. She was a baby. She doesn't remember any of it. Ali rarely cries. All that she has endured as a refugee, in her life in London, in the rounds in the ring, has hardened her. But on the way to the shoot, she can feel something building inside her. She walks on set, watches take after take of the scene in which her brother dies, and the tears come out. She's been working on this film for seven years, and the road ahead is long, and suddenly, in this moment, it's all too much. Ali walks off, away from the set, away from her past, and wanders the streets of Malindi, crying freely. People stare. She doesn't care. June 2023: Ten toes down Letitia Wright sits in the back of a black sprinter van, navigating New Orleans. This is not how the evening was supposed to go. The actor thought she'd be celebrating at dinner with Ali after her latest win, basking in the triumphant feeling that she hopes to channel in portraying Ali as the lead of "In the Shadows." Instead, Wright is on her way to University Medical Center alongside Ali's friend and fellow boxer Tiara Brown. Ali needs a concussion check after Julissa Alejandra Guzmán knocked her out, her first professional loss, one she'd avenge four months later. Wright, wearing black Prada sunglasses, sat right behind Ali's corner. "Ten toes down," says Brown. "Drake even writes about it," Wright replies. The two arrive at the hospital, but security won't let everyone in. So Wright says she's a pro fighter too, granting her access to the drab waiting room. She puts on a pale yellow face mask and sits on a teal chair. It will be a long night. Ali's small circle -- Wright, Brown and Gardner Moore, a friend who flew in from London -- wait and wait. Finally, Ali's husband Richard Moore (no relation) thanks everyone for coming, but insists they leave. No one budges. "Ten toes down," Brown and Wright say. "Richard has 10 hands down, too," Gardner Moore says. Wright makes it clear: She's not leaving -- 6 a.m. flight to Miami be damned. Wright passes the time by asking Brown about boxing rules, hydration clauses, fighters, fights and boxing commissions, anything to deepen her understanding of the world she is about to inhabit. Wright learned of Ali's story a year earlier after listening to an ESPN Daily podcast episode. They then coincidentally met at an Alexander McQueen fashion show. Ali sent her the script that laid it all out: Her family's journey from Somalia to Kenya to Dubai to England. Growing up in council housing in East London. Deciding to box around age 13 to combat bullying and to find herself, but doing so in secret because it violated her family's beliefs. Being forced to quit after her family discovered her secret. Rebelling and returning to boxing without her family's knowledge. Going public with her career because she wanted to reach the Olympics and represent Somalia. Wright was hooked, and signed on just a few weeks ago. And so here she is now, in a hospital emergency waiting room explaining how she blocked off her calendar for multiple boxing training sessions per week with Valerian Spicer, another of Ali's friends and the film's boxing coordinator. Two hours pass. Wright is hungry. It's late. She searches for food. "She's going to be disappointed by the vending machine," Brown says. Wright returns with a bag of Chester's Flamin' Hot Fries, leading to a rare laugh on a grim night. Soon after, Richard Moore comes back out and says they'll be there all night -- Ali has been admitted to the emergency department. Her friends can at least say brief goodbyes. Wright goes into the white room filled with medical machines, and Ali sits up in her bed, in surprisingly good spirits. Wright tells Ali she's "fam" and "girl fam." They make plans to meet up in London when they both return. A few minutes later, Wright slides into the backseat of an Uber van. Brown gets in the front seat. The driver asks why they're at the hospital. Wright says she and Brown are boxers. The car pulls up to her hotel. Wright gets out. "Oh my God, it's Letitia Wright," yells a bride standing outside. Wright ducks inside the lobby. The Uber takes off. "Wait," the driver says as he heads to his next destination. "Was Black Panther just in my car?" February 2024: Down this road Ali and Wright walk through London's Whitechapel neighborhood, retracing the touchpoints of Ali's childhood. Her family moved to England in 1992 after escaping Somalia, bouncing around east London neighborhoods. Ramla was a child. Now, over two decades later, this place still feels so close to her heart. Ali and Wright turn toward a small grouping of buildings with a courtyard in the middle. Wright, disguised in a Yale drama hat and a gray puffer jacket, takes out her phone and starts filming. "That corner, zoom into it," Ali tells Wright. It is the council estate, the exact unit where Ali used to live. When she started boxing around age 12, she hid it from her family for years in this building. "Let's get closer," Wright says. "It would be nice if we could knock on the door." Ali contorts her face. No chance, not happening. She pauses. "That's the flat," Ali says, directing Wright halfway up the brick-brown building. They stop at the corner. "You see the corner balcony," Ali asks, pointing skyward. Wright smiles. "And where can you see from your room?" "My room was this one, here," Ali says. "Oh, so you could see this way, out here," Wright gestures toward the courtyard. "Aww," Wright says, her voice jumping an octave. "Little Ramla." Ali and Wright walk to the building's front as Ali hums an indecipherable song. They look at the blue door at No. 26 -- her old place. "It's so mad, you know," Wright says. "Visually when I read the script, I've seen that, but it's so mad." "It's like, these three windows and the second three windows, that was our flat," Ali says. "Were they good neighbors," Wright asks as Ali explains where the next flat starts. "We never knew them," Ali says. Wright again asks to knock on the door. Ali says no. She doesn't know who lives there now. They walk through a graffiti-covered tunnel that connects Ali's old home with Weavers Field, the park Ali ran through during her early training days. They pass blue benches and in-park exercise equipment. Wright tells Ali when she returns to Tottenham, she sees herself during her younger days on the 243 bus. "I miss it because those are the days where I just sit on the bus and just think about what I want my life to be," Wright says. Wright asks Ali if she feels the same now. "Not that I can see my younger self," Ali says. "But I can see the things that I used to do when I was younger. I used to come to this park, yeah, sometimes to run but sometimes to just walk because it's a nice park and then in the summertime me and my mates would have picnics." Wright: "When you come back to places like this, what do you feel?" Ali: "Quite nice to see how much the area has developed. Obviously, it's a bit s--- knowing that it's developed too much that a lot of the people that called this their home are getting pushed out. But at the same time, it's quite nice that it's looking pretty." The two walk down Wilmot Street, a row of fancy homes. Ali tells Wright how she'd be dropped off there by friends and walk home, hoping to create the illusion of a different kind of life. They turn onto Bethnal Green Road, the neighborhood's main thoroughfare filled with shops and sidewalk vendors. They joke about what would happen if their parents bought them fake Nikes on the street. "So you've never been to York Hall?" Ali asks, referencing where she fought so many of her early fights. "No," Wright says. "But I have been down this road so many times." Wright explains that her church is on this street. For the first time all afternoon, Wright is recognized, and she takes a photo with a fan. Ali and Wright talk about cheesy chicken-and-chips and how taste buds change growing up. Wright takes out her phone when the two arrive at York Hall. "You used to do what here?" Wright asks. "This is where I won my first nationals," Ali responds. "Ohh," Wright says, her face beaming. They try getting inside, but can't without an appointment. Wright tells Ali she wants to attend a fight here. Get a feel for the place. Wright tells Ali that she watches old fights on her phone whenever she can. They walk outside. Wright calls for a car, and the two stand outside, just in front of York Hall's red-and-green railings, waiting for Wright's ride. "Did you like the little tour?" Ali asks. "If it's a real person I'm representing, I will go to the places," Wright says. Winter 2024: A premonition Moore and Ali are sleeping. It's 5 a.m. and Ali is in Los Angeles to train for her June title fight against Yamileth Mercado. The film is months away from shooting. It's been a roller-coaster ride just to get here: Moore and his longtime friend, producer Madeleine Sanderson, initially saw Ali's story as a documentary, before going the scripted route. They signed on director Anthony Wonke and Oscar-nominated producer Lee Magiday, who commissioned a script and raised money to finance the independent feature. Then COVID struck. Then the 2023 Hollywood strikes. But now cast, crew and locations are firming up. Production will finally begin this summer. Or at least that's the latest plan. But Moore knows how it often goes. As a teenager, he worked as a runner for a British television drama. He started his own production company, making TV documentaries, commercials and music videos. He met Wonke and worked with Sanderson on a BBC Films documentary before co-founding Curate Films with Sanderson. He has learned to sleep through turmoil and uncertainty that would keep others up at night. But something tonight jolts him awake. A premonition. He turns to his wife. "Letitia is going to pull out of the film," he says. "And Jasmine Jobson's going to play you." Ali looks at him and shakes her head. "Why the f--- can't you ever dream that I win a world title." July 2024: It's a yes Jasmine Jobson receives an urgent message. There's a script her team insists she read immediately. A role is open. It might be perfect for her. She opens the script and starts reading about the fighter she had seen compete a few times. The lead role is now open because Wright dropped out for unknown reasons a month before shooting started. (Wright declined comment through her publicist.) The switch pushed the production back two weeks. By the time Jobson reaches the scene depicting Ali's brother's death, she knows she has to play the role. In tears, she calls her agent and tells her she loves it. "I'm not finished [reading] yet, but I'm going to call you back," Jobson says. "But it's a yes." July 2024: The deepest, darkest secrets Jobson walks around east London with Ali and Moore. It's their first meeting. Jobson committed to the role, ending a stretch Moore later describes as "more stressful than a world title fight." It's not the tour Ali gave Wright six months earlier, but a get-to-know-you session. As they walk, Jobson stops to take photos with fans who recognize her as Jaq from the British hit, "Top Boy." Months earlier, she won a BAFTA Best Supporting Actress award for the part. Between the fan interludes and before watching Ali train, Jobson tells Ali about her life. About placing herself in foster care at age 14. How she managed without a parent. How she might be dead or in prison otherwise. How it "completely changed my life." Ali immediately feels any distance between her and Jobson close. "If someone can trust me that much to tell me about the deepest, darkest secrets," Ali says. "This is a person that you can trust for sure." August 2024: Her first day It's 8:55 a.m., and Ali sits in a barber chair inside the makeup trailer near Broad Street Amateur Boxing Club in London's Shadwell section. It is the first day Jobson will film scenes in the ring after two weeks of preproduction intensive training with Spicer, but Ali is not just here to watch. The stylist stands behind her, starting to braid her hair. Between bites of granola, Ali asks her about her life. When she mentions running, Ali tells her about Ramla Ali's Sisters Club, and the activities her nonprofit provides as safe spaces for women to learn to box and build community. Classical music plays softly in the background as the stylist creates two braids -- one on each side. They talk about gluten-free bread, ADHD, Ali's exhaustion, kids not applying to college anymore, on-set boxing coordinators. Near the makeup trailer is one labeled (1B). It's for Ali, who is now Jobson's boxing double. Today is her first day as an on-screen actor. Two years earlier, before production began, the producers of "In the Shadows" asked Ali if she had interest in playing herself -- not as the body double, but as the lead. She had been taking acting classes in L.A. and was falling in love with it. But she also believed she wasn't experienced enough yet to carry a multi-million-dollar film. She passed. "I didn't feel ready at the time," Ali will say later. "Had they asked me now, like if the film was being made now? Probably would say yes." August 2024: Stuck with me Jobson bops around set in her white robe, going through her lines and then her in-ring moves. "It was definitely a challenge," Jobson will say later. "Because it's not like I'm creating a character this time around. You know, this is a real human being that I'm having to play. This is her life, so I've got to be very careful." Both Ali and Jobson understand this. Ali focuses on authenticity above all. This is the immortalization of her story. Ali watches the small monitor over Wonke's shoulder with intention. "Wait," Ali screams. "The mouth guard." She sees Jobson inside the ring and realizes what's missing. Production halts. Staffers scramble to find the mouth guard and then place it in Jobson's mouth. Crisis averted, Jobson continues with the scene in the sweatbox gym. Takes go by. Ali watches, studying how Jobson handles movements. Ali notices her sports bra is a different color than Jobson's. Since Jobson is No. 1 on the call sheet, it's Ali who must change. Production is behind, pushing one section of the three-part scene into Tuesday. "I hate Mondays," Wonke says to no one in particular. Minutes later, action is called and Jobson performs another take. Wonke wills it to be right: "Come on, Jas." Ali is told to get ready. She laces up her boxing shoes, has her braids tightened and puts on her white headgear. Wonke tells Ali she must dial down whatever she might try to do in the ring. The scene is meant to depict Ali's first-ever sparring session. Spicer tells her to have "nervous energy." Ali, watching on a monitor, mutters Jobson looked "too good in the ring." As she says this, Jobson enters. She stares at Ali and pauses. It's clear in this moment. No one else could have played Ali. Finn Cole, the actor playing Moore, confused the two when they had headgear on, thinking Ali was Jobson. "Look at you," Jobson says as she enters. "Twinsies." "Jasmine, by Ramla Ali," Wonke responds. "That's my twin," Jobson says. "It's so much fun boxing when the camera is up." Ali climbs into the ring. Jobson watches on the monitor as Ali goes through moves, and cackles when Ali takes a few punches. They are bonded now. Throughout the entirety of filming "In the Shadows," Ali pulls Jobson aside. Instead of pointers, it's praise. Ali tells Jobson multiple times "this is exactly how it was" after a scene finishes. "That's my sister. That's my skin and blister from another mister, let's not get that twisted," Jobson says later. "She's stuck with me for life." September 2024: Reigniting the flame A group of children run up to Ali as she's walking on a beach in Kenya. They come with a warning: Don't go that way. Ali is confused. The children see militia on the beach, not knowing they are actors for "In the Shadows." Ali reassures them they are fake. In the final days of filming in Malindi, Ali sees Moore sitting outside and thinks her husband looks sad. He isn't. No, he explains, "making that film kind of reignited this flame in me that, you know, I want to go back to making films again." Moore thinks nothing of the conversation. Ali doesn't forget it. Over coffee on the porch of the Swahili home they were renting, Ali tells her husband that for the past 10 years, they'd been chasing her dreams: the Olympics, pro boxing, modeling, world title shots including Nov. 8 in Texas against Mikiah Kreps. Now, she says, it's time for them to work together on his. Theirs. Filming wrapped a few days earlier. Cast and crew dispersed. Ali, Moore, Wonke, Sanderson and Magiday stay behind in the country. Ali and Moore treat them to four days in a resort villa with a private chef, pool and boat trip. Wonke, Sanderson and Magiday are exhausted from the past seven years making the film, something Ali saw every step of the way. "It's quite nice," Ali says. "To see Lee, Mads and Anthony just stick by us." Sanderson and Wonke tease Moore about getting back into film. ("In the Shadows" was released in England on Oct. 30 2026.) They don't know Ali and Moore are starting to discuss ideas about a romantic comedy, reminiscing about real-life situations that might make good scenes and a loose story. It is how Moore and Ali begin writing their first feature film script: "Not Like Us." Summer 2026: Shock to the system Ali is on set. She's stressed. Confusion over a costume leads to delays. Every part of the production looks to her and Moore. This is their set. Their movie. Ali and Moore are deep into filming "Not Like Us," their feature directorial debut, using a 97-page-long draft as their shooting script. Trying to initially fund the film, Moore says, they put their London home up for sale. They didn't sell because they didn't get close to their asking price and ended up raising enough private investment money anyway to make the movie. Now, though, they need to make their day. Delays mean changes. Money. Critical time shortened to film scenes. A tip Ali took from watching Wonke: Have three different shot options for every scene. Ali and Moore's days are longer than anything she experienced in sports. She wakes at 5 a.m. daily to run and keep fit for whenever she gets back in the ring. By 8 a.m., she and Moore are on set, typically not leaving until 8 p.m. By 9:30 p.m., they are home, sleeping by 10:30 p.m. before waking up the next day to do it all over again. The first two days are brutal. By Day 3, she settles in. "It was just a shock to the system," Ali says. "Like, I've never had to be switched on, on my feet, constantly making decisions for 12 hours in any point of my life." On set, she's known as the nice one between her and Moore. When a costumer needs new clothes for the lead actress, Sabrina Dhowre Elba, she asks Ali to go with her. Making the film, Moore says, is "chaotic and it is f---ing stressful." He trusts Ali implicitly. Ali and Moore shoot the film in 15 days over three weeks in east London, consisting of 17 locations, 76 scenes, at least 50 crew members and, including nonspeaking roles, a cast of at least 170. To get the film done on budget and on time, Moore and Ali direct separate scenes on separate floors simultaneously. It works because they co-wrote the script and have done everything together. Moore says he couldn't have made this film, now in postproduction, with anyone else. When Moore sees Ali tiring, he leads. When she sees Moore dragging -- which she says rarely happens -- she takes over for him. They agree before shooting started that attitude and work ethic is everything. This experience, she says later, is harder than anything she has done in boxing. The past four years have been an unexpected journey, one she couldn't have anticipated when she first agreed to sell her life rights in order to make "In the Shadows" nine years ago. Now she knows one very clear, unassailable fact. This is what's next.