"The Art of Self-Defense" Review: A Profound Dissection of Masculinity and Cyclical Violence
With a schedule as bloated as mine, it can be difficult to put aside time to write down my thoughts for a piece of media. With many films this year, I’ve struggled to find a film worth exploring and discussing. While this year has offered a solid, if slightly underwhelming selection of films to date, none have inspired me to want to immediately discuss my thoughts on it here.
That was, until I saw The Art of Self-Defense.
Here comes a film that mercilessly markets itself as a dark comedy, showing off a dry, awkward sense of humor in collaboration with subject matter that doesn’t come off as inherently humorous. Indeed, Self-Defense initially captured my attention with its off-kilter, unique sense of personality that came through in its promotional material. Wanting to give the film the benefit of the doubt, I walked into Self-Defense with next to no knowledge of it beyond seeing its trailer a single time. I was left with a film that will doubtlessly ignite many conversations about gender, masculinity and how it can be interpreted by different people, and the kinds of cycles we can find ourselves in, both in regards to violence and surviving a middle-of-the-road job.
There’s a lot for moviegoers to investigate with Self-Defense. If you’ve read previous movie reviews, you know I’m a sucker for movies that prioritize asking questions and offering possible, but not definitive answers to them. Self-Defense delivers on this and then some. On top of being an entertaining exploration of a man’s quest to improve himself at karate in a dojo that reveals itself to not be what it initially seems, Self-Defense is an intriguing dissection of topics that is presented in an intelligent, respectful manner. Let’s dive into why The Art of Self-Defense is one of the year’s best films thus far.
Jesse Eisenberg’s portrayal of Casey, a mid-30s, reserved, and scrawny adult, shows how transformed one can be because of their environment and the people that they surround themselves with. Self-Defense is an impressive showcase for how significantly characters can change just through interacting with a single other character.
Self-Defense’s greatest strength lies in its ability to create a contrasting network of characters that ultimately serve as vehicles for change among one another. Our protagonist, Casey, begins as a decisively mundane character that is simultaneously outcast by many others due to his awkward, matter-of-fact personality. When he hears his (ostensibly immature) coworkers joking about burning their boss’ house down, Casey immediately responds by stating facts relating to how doing such a thing would be logically fallible, to which his coworkers appear offset and silent about what he says.
Due to being outcast by his peers at work at a stereotypically boring accounting job and living alone with his dog, Casey’s character is reflective of his environment. Upon establishing Casey’s prosaic (yet intriguing) personality, the film’s plot quickly sets itself in motion with Casey getting beaten in the streets while walking to a local store to buy food for his dog. For seemingly no reason, Casey gets jumped and finds himself greatly injured in the days following.
After considering buying a gun to defend himself if such an instance were to occur again, Casey stumbles across a karate dojo, led by Sensei, who serves as the antithesis to Casey’s character. Intrigued by watching a class, Casey is struck with what he really wants: not necessarily to defend himself, but to attain the courage and strength to stand up against what he fears most: the people who look down on and take advantage of him. Casey’s battle isn’t one of survival as he initially suspects, but rather, it is one of integrity. Casey wishes to be respected and welcomed by others, and presumes that karate may be a gateway into making that wish a reality. Sensei welcomes Casey into the dojo, to which Casey slowly gets revealed to the bizarrely dark realities of what the dojo does outside of outside of karate.
What the character of Sensei brings to this film is a persuasion aimed towards Casey - a persuasion to transform our awkward, reserved protagonist into a hyper-masculine individual. As Sensei encourages Casey to switch his preferred music from adult contemporary to heavy metal, we slowly see an alteration of Casey’s personality. Who was once a socially-inept individual that nevertheless didn’t conform to the negative examples of masculinity as showcased by his peers at work early on in the film slowly becomes the prime example of what he once feared and despised. He slacks off at work, picks fights, and most crucially, becomes absorbed by karate, the dojo, and the freedom that he feels just by wearing his karate belt. Casey transforms from a character that resents violence to one that is consumed and fascinated by the very concept of violence.
Self-Defense, when broken down to its core, is a story about the cycle of violence, and how they can be easily perpetuated if no one questions why such violence needs to unfold. Casey gradually contributes to the senseless violence that injured him in the first place, giving rise to a conflict that ends both satisfyingly and hilariously.
Moreover, Self-Defense is also, at its essence, a story about masculinity - specifically about the interpretation of masculinity. The dojo that Casey trains is one that is predominantly male-populated - not dissimilar to how most acts of violence are committed by men. But Sensei, the individual responsible allowing the more gruesome violence to unfold, is a character that interprets masculinity very differently from other characters. He treats Anna, one of the strongest students and a fellow instructor at the dojo, poorly because of her gender. Additionally, he uses apathy and reliance on violence to communicate self-expression - negatively connotated stereotypes of masculinity - as things to teach and encourage to our protagonist.
If anything, Sensei and Casey’s relationship with each other is a commentary on the nature of masculinity. Specifically, the character of Sensei represents that there is no such thing as “toxic masculinity”, but rather, toxic interpretations of masculinity that result in violence and misogynistic behavior. Casey, while not being a walking stereotype of a “masculine man” as Sensei is, ultimately proves himself to be the more honorable, positive example of masculinity, as he questions the ethics of what he is taught by Sensei. While he gets tainted by Sensei’s toxic philosophies and interpretations of what a man should be, Casey ultimately learns to think independently, making for a character that develops and grows quite significantly over the course of the film’s 104 minute runtime.
Through its dark humor and brilliantly realized characters, The Art of Self-Defense manages to say a lot about violence and masculinity without every coming across as full of itself or preachy. Self-Defense is a film that very much understands what it is and the kind of story it’s trying to tell, and doesn’t attempt to be anything that it isn’t. What results is a film that is tightly focused, funny, and intelligent. The Art of Self-Defense is a classic example of what I look for in movies: a story that keeps me thinking long after I’ve seen it. It’s for that reason that The Art of Self-Defense is one of the year’s best films and certainly not one to be missed in the late summer indie film shuffle.
Final Grade: A
Thank you so much for reading! What did you think of The Art of Self-Defense? As always, feel free to join the conversation and let me know what you think!
