The Art Of Self-Defense (2019) - Movie Review

There are few things that can immediately bring out the fragility in a self-supposed alpha like daring to utter the phrase ‘toxic masculinity’ in their presence. Bonus points if their rebuttal to the sheer idea of the concept involves some combination of ‘beta’, ‘cuck’ and ‘soy’.

Even as someone who has discussed the topic in past reviews, in particular my look at Only The Brave, I keep getting the feeling that there’s far too many out there unable to see or even comprehend the distinct between masculinity at its best and at its worst. For its best, the archetypal protector and provider has his place and as tempered by genuine human empathy and compassion, it remains a true showing of strength. For its worst… well, let’s get into this film.

Starring Jesse Eisenberg as yet another character that is awkwardness incarnate, The Art Of Self-Defense does a remarkable job of being able to juggle resonate analysis of gender tropes, dark humour and even a bit of thrill over the course of its running time. It begins on a solid note with a showing of Eisenberg’s Casey as someone who’s a lot smarter than he lets on, and throughout all the matter-of-fact statements of raw wrong-headedness, the copious violence and the quite Fight Club-esque tonal arc once the structure within the dojo is made apparent, it never even hints at falling off the rails.

It’s a balancing act that gives a sturdy foundation for the film’s headier examinations of male gender norms, starting with Casey being attacked by motorcycle thugs and deciding that he needs a way to defend himself in future. After a very humourous exchange at a gun store, which basically shows up Eli Roth’s attempts at similar points in Death Wish in the space of a single scene, he enrols in a karate class led by Alessandro Nivola’s Sensei. From there, his declaration that he wants to become what intimidates him gives Sensei the in to bring out his inner alpha.

Said alpha is created through a mixture of metal music, learning German as opposed to French, and having his supposedly-effeminate dog killed so he can have a German Shepherd instead. Basically, replace his true self with what is perceived to be masculine. Or, more specifically, what the Sensei deems to be more masculine. Through their conversations together, it’s made blindingly obvious that there’s a sinister and cyclical grift that he’s running, putting people into positions of helplessness, only to bring them out of it and turn them into the very people that abused them to begin with. Violence begetting violence.

It’s stuff like this that makes me feel like toxic masculinity needs to be addressed properly, since it not only makes it a point of consistently putting women down as genetically inferior and weaker, it also puts unnecessary pressure on men to fulfil a masculine quota that, quite frankly, is utter horseshit. This narrow, might-makes-right attitude is far more destructive than constructive, pretty much indoctrinated the vulnerable into becoming part of the problem, not the solution.

To that end, the inclusion of Imogen Poots (who must really have a thing for genre flicks about gender dynamics, between this and Black Christmas) does the story a great service. A teacher at the academy, and someone who is perpetually condescended to by the Sensei, she ends up highlighting just how short-sighted Sensei’s understanding of strength truly is.

Figurative and literal strong-arming of others, convincing women that they can succeed by playing on their terms while also admitting that they will never meet the same standards, seeing physical aggression as the only showing of strength that matters, failing to see how homoerotic all this machoness really is, itself seen as a form of weakness for some; it’s more than a little ridiculous as shown within the film’s framing. And by film’s end, the film makes it perfectly clear that if playing by these stupid rules is what garners respect, then the people who enforce them don’t deserve that respect.

As far as treatises on gender conformity and the potential damage it involves, this is a pretty top-notch effort. The acting is solid across the board, particular from Eisenberg, Nivola and Poots, the fight choreography is nicely handled, the comedy got some real belly laughs out of me, and its writing is quite sharp in its statements regarding the toxic side of masculinity. I’m someone who specialises in words and rhetoric, and yet because of my build, I find myself frequently getting into conversations with barbers keep trying to convince me that I should take up football or basketball. As if my potential for physical strength is the only way I qualify as a man. As you can imagine, I have a lot of respect for films like this that cut through that bullshit.