Film examines path to masculinity
In a sardonic and borderline surreal way, “The Art of Self-defense” poses the question: What is the stance we should take in regard to the world? Should we be open and assume the best of people? Or should we always be in a quiet state of siege and bulk up our bodies and train our minds to see the world as a dangerous and hostile place?
Jesse Eisenberg plays Casey, a timid office worker who looks like he couldn’t punch his way out of a wet paper bag. And maybe others pick up the vibe, because one night, as he’s walking back from a store carrying a bag of dog food, a group of motorcyclists attack him. They’re not after his money, although they take his wallet. They’re after the adrenaline rush of beating up a defenseless guy for no reason.
Written and directed by Riley Stearns, “The Art of Self-defense” brings out a particularly skillful performance from Eisenberg, whose job is to harmonize the film’s odd shifts in tone
“The Art of Self-defense.” Directed by Riley Stearns. MPAA rating: R (for violence, sexual content, graphic nudity and language) Running time: 1:44 Now showing at the Easton 30, Gateway and Lennox 24 theaters
and make something real and heartfelt of the central character’s journey. Casey, as is typical of previous Eisenberg characters, is withdrawn and cultivates an emotionless facade. But here the facade is self-protective, and in private moments, he endures the anguish of the timid and perpetually fearful.
So he joins a karate club, and for the next 20 minutes, the movie seems to sag — it’s just him taking karate lessons from a charismatic local sensei (Alessandro Nivola). But stick with it. This is an ambitious film, and “The Art of Self-defense” goes to interesting places.
As the sensei, Nivola never overplays it. Stearns doesn’t direct him to act like a wild-eyed guru but rather like an unflappable, confident, capable man, the essence of everything Casey is not. Watching him, it’s entirely understandable why people would want to follow him and be like him. Nivola seduces the audience, as well as the characters.
To some degree, the film is a meditation on masculinity and not one that subscribes to the nonsense that has been coming out of the academy in recent years, that all masculinity is inherently “toxic.” Rather, this is a nuanced, thoughtful and witty examination that finds its way to a balanced and complex position. At the start of the film, Casey is too timid, too weak, too frightened and too defenseless. In a sense, this makes him susceptible, not only to attack, but to weird ideas about what it is to be a man.
What makes the movie worth talking about afterwards — something we can’t really get into here, in detail, because it would reveal too much — surrounds the question, “What is the nature of Casey’s journey?” That is, does the movie depict his path to healthy manhood or toward something more perverse? Or is it something in between, the depiction of a journey toward manhood that’s presented in a perverse and caustic way? (I choose this option.)
Or should we see the movie as an idiosyncratic anecdote and leave it at that?