Director Riley Stearns’ strange and seething satire “The Art
of Self-Defense” is a pitch black comedy for the modern era, coming at a time
when our culture continues a long overdue conversation about identity,
masculinity, and violence.
The film
tells the story of milquetoast office worker Casey (Jesse Eisenberg). An
awkward bundle of insecurities, Casey lives a rather drab existence. Residing
in a nondescript apartment (which production designer Charlotte Royer layers
with endless shades of brown and tan) in an anonymous city, he appears to have
few friends and no social life to speak of. His co-workers completely ignore
him at best, and at worst outright despise him. The only bright spot in his
life is his beloved — and adorable — dachshund.
Then one
night he’s attacked at random, beaten and mugged by a band of masked thugs on
motorcycles. The assault leaves him bruised, broken, and fearful of the world
outside his apartment walls. Seeking a way to feel safe again he takes an
exploratory trip to a gun shop, but it doesn’t go as well as he’d hoped. Things
seem hopeless until Casey happens upon a karate dojo run by the enigmatic Sensei
(Alessandro Nivola).
Charismatic
and supremely confident, Sensei has very specific ideas of what it means to be
a man. He preaches a take-what-you-want attitude, in which power belongs to the
one who can punch the hardest. It’s an ideology reflective of the alpha/beta
worldview that a certain type of men still subscribe to. But Casey falls under
its sway, submerging himself in this world of hypermasculinity with a
fraternity of other male rejects.
The lone
woman in this odd environment is Anna (a wonderful, ferocious Imogen Poots), a
brown belt who teaches children’s karate class. Considering his beliefs about
men, it’s perhaps not surprising to learn that Sensei also has some fairly
misogynistic beliefs about what it means to be a woman
too. He treats Anna with contempt, seeing her as biologically inferior. And
Anna for her part has internalized so much of his teachings that even as she
rages at her gendered treatment, she still finds herself craving his
validation.
Casey
doesn’t necessarily subscribe to Sensei’s feelings about women, but the
ritualistic nature of Sensei’s brand of instruction appeals to him. He seems to
be the answer Casey’s been searching for, offering some place to channel all
the pain and frustration he’s been feeling.
His
loneliness and insecurity lead him to desperately cling to a group where he
finally feels like he belongs. He’s been afraid for so long that he believes
the answer is to become that which he fears. Casey works his way up to yellow
belt with remarkable speed, and Sensei soon extends him an invitation to the
exclusive night class, where things take an even darker turn. Even as things
get progressively stranger, there’s a sense of inevitability to the ultimate
destination of this story.
The film
seems likely to earn the ire of those who actually practice the art of karate,
though the unorthodox methods of Nivola’s character suggest fairly early on
that this is clearly not a properly accredited and sanctioned dojo. Riley isn’t
interested in presenting a realistic portrayal, but rather using that world to
explore the underlying ideas of manhood.
“The Art of
Self-Defense” is just one of a recent spat of films that probe the idea of
masculinity, including most recently the sunny horror film “Midsommar.” And
much like that film, it also functions as an examination of both the danger and
the appeal of cults. That subject was also the focus of Stearns’ previous film
“Faults,” and it’s one that clearly interests the director. His films have a
curiosity about how and why people might willingly fall under their sway.
The
filmmaker invests the story with the dark, deadpan humor of a Yorgos Lanthimos
joint. Like that Greek director, Sterns’ characters talk in full declarative
sentence, bluntly speaking their minds with little regard for how their words
will be received. And that droll comedy finds its punctuation with bursts of
graphic, brutal violence.
Peculiarly,
the film is ambiguous about the time period in which it’s set. It’s filled with
analog technology: VCRs, clunky camcorders and large, boxy answering machines.
When Casey steals a nudie magazine from a co-worker, he has to photocopy its
pages to look at when he gets back home. That ambiguity is an interesting
choice visually, but combined with the arch tone, the lack of specificity has
the effect of dulling the impact of its satire.
But there’s
still plenty of bite to the film. “The Art of Self-Defense” digs into the
bubbling anger that forces a person to cling to an identity forged in
aggression and violence; where domination is a methodology for living. In the
end, the film’s truly at its best when it makes its laughs hurt.
This article appears in Jul 17-23, 2019.
