The Art of Self-Defense
- Part Fight Club, part deeply disturbed Napoleon Dynamite, this demented dark indie comedy is the funniest film of 2019.
Full Disclosure: I didn’t know anything about this film going in, other than I was eager to see Jesse Eisenberg make a return to offbeat independent comedy. Calling this movie “offbeat”, however, is like calling Disney a cute little upstart production company.
Review
This movie was fucking crazy! It elicits both gasps of shock and gut-busting laughs, almost in equal measure. It keeps you on your toes for the entire 104 minute runtime. With audiences today being more savvy than ever, that is a feat in and of itself. You never know what’s going to come next. Your’e as likely to squirm in your seat as you are to cackle from scene to scene and moment to moment. It’s emotionally manipulative in all the best ways. It’s darker than Fight Club, funnier than Napoleon Dynamite, and it’s sure to leave a lasting impression on anyone who sees it.
Hopefully this will mark the end of the days where people constantly mistake Jesse Eisenberg for Michael Cera.
The Art of Self-Defense marks the triumphant return of Jesse Eisenberg to the independent comedy scene where he’s always shined. He comes equipped with his trademark social awkwardness, only ratcheted up to eleven this time. Alessandro Nivola (probably best known for playing Nic Cage’s brother Pollux Troy in Face/Off) delivers the performance of a lifetime as the strict, steadfast, emotionless Sensei of a, let’s say, “unconventional” karate dojo. Joining them is Imogen Poots (That Awkward Moment), a student of the dojo who is held back because of her gender. (She really needs to be in more movies, by the way. She’s an outstanding performer.)
Bursting onto the scene is writer/director Riley Stearns. He does so much with so little here. (The film primarily takes place in only three indoor locations.) While this film won’t be breaking any box office records, Stearns’ overt take on the dangers of toxic masculinity is sure to go down as a cult classic in the coming years. It’s definitely not for everyone, but that’s because it does what so many films are petrified to do these days: It takes fucking risks! It’s fresh! It’s original! It’s funny as hell! It’s also very, very dark at times. It has a myriad of moments where you’re not sure if you’re supposed to laugh, so you let out something between a chuckle and a pained groan. It’s ridiculously awkward, but it makes you feel something. That is a trait that’s sorely lacking in the vast majority of today’s comedic fare. It doesn’t just go for cheap laughs, and it has something to say at the end of the day.
Spoilers Ahead
The interplay between Nivola’s toxically masculine Sensei and Eisenberg’s painfully awkward Casey is a perfect pairing of two opposing forces.
While the twist that Sensei was behind the attack that nearly crippled Casey wasn’t hard to see coming, that did not deter from its effectiveness one iota. Sensei was always going to be the foil for Casey to overcome. He’s the quintessential trickster mentor. He appears to be a tough, yet nurturing force in Casey’s life, but he turns out to be a murderous sociopath who lacks any semblance of empathy or humanity. Casey thinks he wants to be like Sensei, until he discovers the price he’d have to pay to reach his level of “manliness.” In a way, Casey desperately needs Sensei… until he doesn’t. Sensei is the Tyler Durden to Casey’s Narrator. One cannot live while the other survives. Sensei’s Darwinian goal to eliminate the weak and promote who he perceives to be strong is his Project Mayhem. The parallels to Fight Club here are irrefutable, down to the fact that both films have their main characters literally fight to vent their frustrations. Somehow though, The Art of Self-Defense doesn’t feel like a rip-off, reimagining, or homage to its spiritual predecessor. Yes, there are several obvious similarities, but it does its own thing; and does it exceptionally well.
RIP little Dachshund. You were cute as hell and went out fighting well above your tiny weight class. May you be forever enshrined as a hero next to the Grandmaster as a shining example of the benefits of karate.
5 Quick Hits
Points off for killing the Dachshund. I’m willing to go to some extremely dark places, but dog death is where I draw the line. I get that it was the ultimate catalyst for Casey to break ties with Sensei, but the tone switch was almost too jarring. It was hard to get back into the movie for a while after that occurred. At least the cute little fucker went out fighting though and at the end of the day, his murder was avenged.
I loved that Imogen Poots’ character, Anna, wasn’t relegated to playing a manic pixie dream girl stereotype we so often see in these movies. While she was briefly teased as a potential love interest, she didn’t exist to save the virginal awkward nerd from himself. She had her own goals, her own ambitions, and her own life outside of making the protagonist feel better about himself. She’s the toughest character in a film full of wannabe tough guys.
The sequence where Casey fully embraces his new persona as a badass karate dude was some of the funniest material I’ve seen in years. I absolutely lost my shit for about five minutes straight. Eisenberg’s emotionless delivery of his lines here was a masterclass.
Shooting Sensei at the end was both shocking and perfect. I honestly never saw that coming, even though I probably should have. The moment was cleverly foreshadowed constantly. I knew this movie couldn’t end with a fair one-on-one unarmed fight. This ain’t The Karate Kid. His cover-up of the murder was even better. It was a great callback to Sensei’s opening monologue about the Grandmaster and all of his (obviously bullshit) accomplishments in the field of martial arts.
One of the more fascinating choices the film made was that it took place in some weird reality out of space and time. It’s never stated where or when the film takes place. It simply had a nonspecific, Smalltown, USA feel. In this world, CD’s, tube TV’s and plug-in phones are the order of the day; yet the answering machines seem to have a personality of their own. It was weird, quirky, and absolutely brilliant.
