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letterboxd · 5 years

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Self-Defense.

“Tone is fun. Tone is like a fingerprint, and I’m trying to figure out what mine is.” —The Art of Self-Defense writer/director Riley Stearns tells us about his singular new film.

Leaning heavily into ideas centered around manliness, Riley Stearns’ new film The Art of Self-Defense feels pretty loaded. Although it’s clearly presenting itself as satire, the hot-button nature of its subject matter heightens the whole affair.

Set in what appears to be sometime in the 1970s or 1980s, or a cellphone-less present—you can never be quite sure—the film stars Jesse Eisenberg as Casey, a meek office drone who is violently mugged one evening. After recovering, he begins taking karate lessons at a local dojo and falls under the influence of his charismatic sensei, a man named… Sensei. Sensei is played by Alessandro Nivola in a hilarious performance that itself justifies seeing the film, but it’s worth it for several other reasons too, not least of which is a great turn from Imogen Poots, playing a fellow student.

Destined to be polarizing, The Art of Self-Defense affects a vibe that feels influenced in equal parts by Yorgos Lanthimos, Charlie Kaufman and Wes Anderson. For Stearns, who also helmed the 2014 cult-recovery feature Faults, a black comedy described by Letterboxd members as “terrific”, “inventive” and “original”, The Art of Self-Defense continues a never-ending exploration of tone, “the most important part of filmmaking”.

Letterboxd caught up with Stearns earlier in the year to talk jiu-jitsu, ambiguity, violence and the Coen brothers.

Writer/director Riley Stearns.

What was the impetus for you telling this story? Riley Stearns (writer/director): I think I started just worrying: what would happen if I got in a fight? What would happen if I got mugged? What would happen if I was with somebody I loved and something happened and I couldn’t defend them? And I just really didn’t know the answers to those questions. So I started looking into taking martial arts classes, and jiu-jitsu in particular is what I settled on. It was really out of fear initially, and now I do jiu-jitsu because it’s fun. It’s a hobby, it’s a sport that I like and it keeps me in shape. It’s the best thing I’ve ever done for myself, but it really started out of fear.

When I started writing the movie, I’d been doing jiu-jitsu for a little while. I wanted to make a movie in that world, but I realized I could take my experience and my fear and put it into the story, and I thought people might relate to that. And the really interesting thing is some of the guys I’ve shown it to have felt like they saw themselves in the character, even though for me, it’s a stylized and exaggerated version of myself. I see myself in the character, obviously, but I feel proud that they see themselves too.

Is this film’s time period deliberately ambiguous? Deliberately ambiguous, yes. I wanted to kind of be able to just mix technology. I happen to think that analog technology is more interesting-looking, and it adds a certain production design quality to the film that I really like. I don’t want people to have to think about the timeline too much. If you’re thinking ‘why is it ambiguous?’ that’s one thing. But thinking ‘oh there’s an iPhone 7, so this happened at that time’, I think it dates a film unnecessarily. I also try to stay away from cellphones just in general too. Because if you don’t have ’em and they’re never touched on, then you can’t use them, and that’s great, because it helps propel story. But yeah, it’s definitely an ambiguous timeline.

Having said that, your film delves into a subject that there’s so much discussion around right now in society: masculinity (and toxic forms of it). Is that a coincidence? I started writing this in 2015. I think the conversations were happening then, it was just a smaller version. Recently it has really picked up, [with] the #MeToo movement, and there’s people questioning and saying ‘no we’re not gonna take this anymore’. I think that’s amazing, but this was already something I was looking at doing for myself. Just saying, like, I’m a white guy and I’m middle-aged and I grew up in a middle-class family and this is my perspective, and so this hopefully is how I can help. It’s karate and it’s got action and comedy and all that, but I do think there’s a message at the heart of it. At the end of the day, it’s entertainment, for sure, but I don’t want to make something that’s pure entertainment. I want to make something that says something, at least. That was my goal.

The character of Sensei is really something else. What were your conversations with Alessandro Nivola like? For some reason I came up with this image that kind of started with Sensei: he’s the kind of guy who would wear sandals with socks. That’s who Sensei is. He’s a sociopathic character in the film, but he also is just a dork, too. I think he was the kid who was beat up in high school, probably started taking karate to be able to defend himself, thought it would make him cool. And at the end of the day, karate’s not necessarily the coolest thing in the world anyway. Anybody putting on a gi, you don’t look cool doing it. What you’re able to do from the martial art is one thing, but you don’t look cool in the gi.

I think Sensei just wants to belong. He wanted to belong to a group, and no group would have him so he kind of started his own, so he’s got his school, all these students look up to him, and he’s just pretending to be the cool person he always wanted to be. And he also just happens to be kinda crazy too. But yet, Alessandro had fun being that guy, just embracing the quirks of the character and not going the expected route.

There’s a declarative, deadpan tone to this film. Did you talk to your cast about tone? Definitely. ‘Deadpan’ is a word that’s used, and I think I accidentally slip into it here and there, but I like to say ‘literal’. In real life, we kind of hide the truth a little bit to be nice or friendly, and we don’t always express exactly what we’re thinking. I like to think that in the world of The Art of Self-Defense, everyone says exactly what they’re thinking. It’s either black or white, there’s no gray. And I think that helps inform the acting at times. Just saying what you think, and also a lot of times with quote-unquote jokes in the movie, I don’t think they work as well if you play it as a joke. But if you don’t play it as a joke, you play it dead serious, that’s where the humor lies. And we were really able to find that on set.

It’s hard to say that it’s a natural-feeling film, but I didn’t want it to feel so stylized that it takes you out of it. I wanted you to feel like this is just maybe a dimension over from us, a minute shift, but it’s enough that it makes things feel slightly off but it gives it its own world. I like building worlds, even if it’s not in some grand Avatar kind of way. Just hone and feel an atmosphere.

For me, tone is the most important part of filmmaking. I would rather have a nailed-down tone. I don’t know that I’m ever gonna achieve that; it’s always gonna be a battle to figure out what is perfect, but that means more to me than doing some really cool camera move. Or having some big explosion or something. I look at the Coen brothers and I say, like: how are they able to do exactly what they want to do with every single movie, and how does it feel like a Coen brothers film for me every single time? That’s an aspirational thing for me down the line; I want to get to that point where I know exactly what I want, we’re able to achieve it every time, and everyone’s on the same page. Tone is fun. Tone is like a fingerprint. And I’m trying to figure out what mine is.

Violence is a big part of this film. Were you trying to approach violence in a specific way? Um, not necessarily. I think that our society, in the United States especially, nudity and sex is so “horrible” to put on film, but everything gets away with violence. And I think that to a certain extent, that’s not a great thing, but I do happen to find a certain style of violence… when it’s used in a certain context. The films of Yorgos Lanthimos or… who else…

Paul Verhoeven? Yes. There you go. Haneke. There are ways of approaching violence that don’t glorify it, and I do think that there is humor in violence, but I know at the end of the day I’m making a movie. In real life, I’m not a violent person. I don’t like violent things. But being able to explore it is interesting in the context of the film. Maybe it’s the shock of it. Maybe I’m just being clichéd or whatever. But I do happen to find [violence] an interesting tool to be able to use. There are moments in the movie where we show the violence and there’s moments where we have it off camera. And I think being able to decide that may be too much, or being able to say, this is just doing it for shock and not adding anything to the discussion.

Something I definitely did in conceiving the way that we shot it, anything with fists or feet, like punching, very analog fights, all of that could be very bloody. But the moment we used weapons or guns or anything, I wanted [scene description redacted to avoid spoilers] to be almost not bloody at all. I didn’t wanna glorify the gun violence. But with the karate side of it, we just went balls-to-the-wall. So there’s also a little bit of that too, knowingly adding more to certain elements that you want to enhance. I don’t think people need to see [scene description redacted]. That’s not entertainment to me.

‘The Art Of Self-Defense’ is in US theaters now. Comments have been edited for clarity and length.

#art of self defense #riley stearns #jesse eisenberg #toxic masculinity #letterboxd

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missweber · 6 years

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What Might Have Been

The sad thing was, Marty and Thirdy probably thought they were helping.

For one glorious second, his entire world was Bitty in his arms and the whispered kiss me that was louder than the screaming of thousands of fans. One moment, Jack felt the warmth of Bitty's lips as they were about to kiss.

The next, he had the breath knocked out of him by nearly 200 kilos' worth of alternate captains. Thirdy shouted something that may or may not have been obscene, but it was hard to tell because Marty was yelling so loud that Jack knew his ears would be ringing for hours afterward.

"Damn, that was a close one," Thirdy whispered as they dragged Jack towards the waiting cameras and a trophy that seemed a lot less important than it had a year ago.

It wasn't until he saw the stony expression on George's face that Jack realized that Thirdy hadn't been talking about the game.

* * *

On their way in to the Falcs' offices the next morning, Jack had Bitty pick up a venti caramel latte with two extra shots of espresso. (He had Bitty do the deed as Bitty was not as recognizable as Jack - yet.)

He wasn't sure if it was a peace offering, a thank you, an expression of sympathy for the shit George was going through, or some combination of the above, but the look of gratitude on George's face as she lifted her head from her hands told him it had been the right move.

She took a long swig before saying anything, even just 'have a seat.'

"How bad is it?" Bitty asked. He clutched the box of apology muffins so tightly that the cardboard buckled. "I... I haven't looked."

He hadn't looked at anything all day. In fact, for the first time that Jack could remember, Bitty had actually turned off his phone and kept it off.

George waggled a hand in a 'so-so' motion. "I wouldn't say it's bad so much as intense. People are analyzing footage of last night as if it were the Zapruder film. What kind of muffins are those, Eric?"

Bitty blinked at the sudden re-direction but handed the box over. "Uh, banana-nut? I think?"

It was a testament to previous demonstrations of Bitty's baking skill that George only hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking a muffin. She also gave Jack a quick, worried glance that he answered with a shake of his head.

'In the zone' baking was awe-inspiring. Stress baking occupied the borderlands between amusing and unsettling. Fugue-state baking was something Jack never, ever wanted to see again as long as he lived.

"Actually, they're cranberry orange," George said kindly. "And, of course, delicious as always. Why don't you take the rest of these down to the media offices real quick? I need to speak to Jack alone for a moment."

Bitty paled but nodded, and then scurried off in a way that made him look small, almost invisible. There was no sign of the reckless and joyful confidence that had been there last night, and Jack worried that he might not see that again for a long, long time.

A few heartbeats after the door closed, George put her coffee down as gently as if it was in delicate crystal instead of a paper cup. She then folded her hands together on her desk and looked up at Jack, who had not yet been invited to sit down.

"First of all, there's one thing I want to get out of the way: what the fuck were you thinking? Or were you even thinking at all?!"

"I was thinking that I just won the Stanley Cup and I wanted to kiss my boyfriend."

"You just can't - "

"Why can't we?" he snapped, the words of Bitty's question now turned angry and bitter. "Was I supposed to ask permission? Did Marty get the all-clear before kissing Gabby? Did Poots check in with PR before getting hot and heavy with whoever it is he's dating this week?"

"Jack, that's different, and you know it!"

"Really? If it's different, then why was it okay that your wife gave you a big hug and then you kissed her on the cheek right in the middle of your interview with NESN?"

"Oh, for the love of... just sit down already, okay?" She rubbed at her eyes. "It's different because to most of those morons out there, women's sports 'don't count,' and then you've got all those lovely people who assume that any woman who is into a sport like hockey is probably gay anyway, and don't even get me started on some of the other shit people say," she said bitterly. "Besides, I'm not one of the faces of the franchise who helps bring in millions of dollars of advertising revenue. But I'm not telling you anything you don't already know."

Jack sat down, but his temper still felt as if it were on a hair trigger. "So, now what?"

"So now I'm done yelling at you for making my professional life more interesting than it needs to be," she said with a half-smile, "and now I can get down to the more important business of making sure my friends are okay. So, how are you doing?"

He thought for a moment. "Is it wrong if I say I wish Marty and Thirdy hadn't interrupted us?"

A kiss would have been a declaration. Yes, there would have been one hell of a mess to clean up after, and in some ways it might have been worse, but there would be no questioning, no 'are they/aren't they' games that reduced him and Bitty to a puzzle for other people's entertainment. If asked, he could have just said that he had the same right any other guy on the team had to kiss the person he loved. His teammates and his parents would have supported him, and in time, things would die down and he and Bitty could just go on living their lives.

Instead, there had been a hug that went on too long, and whispers that were too intense, and a kiss that wasn't, and eighteen million internet arguments with citations, reaction gifs, and personal agendas.

Several top sports commentators were already saying with smug confidence that it wasn't unheard of for two guys who had played on the same line to be affectionate like that, and outright making fun of fans who were 'reading too much' into it. The fact that one of those commentators was one of Jack's favorite uncles hurt him in ways he couldn't put words to, and afterward, for the first time in a long time, he had deliberately ignored his father's calls.

Then, there were all the people who seemed happy that he was gay (as far as he could tell, no one had brought up bisexual as an option), but were upset that the almost-kiss wasn't with Tater, or worse, Parse. Others were angry that he hadn't been more overt, accusing the Falcs of 'queerbaiting' and throwing it in his face that he hadn't done a video for You Can Play, or made a statement, or used Pride tape on more than just Pride Night, or, or, or...

"Trust me, I get it," George said, and Jack believed her. "I also get not wanting to hide, and being frustrated with having to wait." She smiled and there was more sharpness than humor to it. "You know what's fun? Waiting for someone's bigoted asshole of a grandfather to die so you can plan your wedding without drama."

"George, I'm - "

"No, no, don't be sorry. I shouldn't be making this about me, and I also shouldn't be surprised that this has been dragging up some old stuff for me. I'm trying to balance being your boss with being your friend with being someone who understands this shit all too well. So, before he gets back, I need to ask - how's Bittle doing?"

Jack didn't really know. Bitty had seemed so confident last night, and he had been his usual social butterfly self at the after-party in the locker room, but on the ride home, he grew very quiet very quickly.

Mama tried to call me three times in the past hour, was all he said when Jack had pressed him.

"He turned off his phone."

George winced. "Ouch."

"Yup. He hadn't told his parents about us. Or about him."

This time, George let out an impressive string of profanity.

"Exactly. If we had kissed, then he wouldn't have to say anything. But now, he has to. And he's scared."

"I don't blame him one tiny bit, but to be honest, he's out of time. To make a long story short, everyone here thinks it's in your best interest to make a statement sooner rather than later. If people think you're hiding something..."

He sighed. "Then they'll keep digging and digging until they find something. I still get questions about Parson."

"Speaking of whom, I found the timing of this interesting," George said as she slid her iPad across the desk towards him. Jack looked at it just long enough to see a photo of Parse with his arm around a willowy young blonde who looked vaguely familiar. He might recognize her if he thought about it long enough, but the photo made him feel ill. A similar photo of Parse (this one with a busty young redhead) had been posted two days after Tater had posted about his Samwell visit on Instagram and the brittleness of Parse's smile in that photo still haunted him. He shoved the iPad back at George.

"What the hell does he think he's doing?" he muttered.

George raised an eyebrow. "Hooking up with a pretty woman, the way you apparently did a few times at Samwell?"

"Yes, but Kent..."

George waited for him to continue, but Jack already felt like he had said too much. He had told her a little about Kent, because she needed to have the facts just in case, but it wasn't his place to tell her the details of Kent's sexuality.

"It's different for him than it is for me," was all he said, and from the stricken look on George's face he knew she understood.

George went very quiet for a moment. "Shit. That poor boy," she finally said. "That picture was posted on the Aces' official Instagram along with a whole bunch of photos of other players and WAGs congratulating us on our win."

A tentative knock on the door startled them half out of their seats, they were both wound so tightly. Bits came in, and while he looked a little red around the eyes, he didn't seem to be carrying quite so much tension as he had that morning.

"You okay, bud?"

"Mmm-hmm." He swiped at his eyes with his sleeve. "It's just that everyone's being so nice and no one seems mad at all even though we've caused you all this fuss."

"Good," George said, and Jack suspected that she may have had a few words with the people in media before he and Bits got there. "Also, there would have been 'fuss' no matter how we went about it, so don't you dare apologize."

"They did say they had an idea," Bits said tentatively, and George's look of non-surprise confirmed Jack's earlier suspicions. "They thought me and Jack could get a picture with Marty and Gabby and Thirdy and Carrie at the official party tonight and, um, just post it? With something saying how they were celebrating with their sweethearts?"

Jack sagged in his chair as the tension dropped away. It was perfect. They would treat it as something normal - which it was. Or should be.

No, it wouldn't stop people from demanding explanations or treating it as a big deal and trying to lay claim to his story, but it felt right. When it came to them, the two of them, they didn't owe anyone anything. No announcements, no explanations, no apologies, nothing. Yes, he would agree to an interview for You Can Play because those three words would have a hell of a lot of weight coming from a Stanley Cup champion and Conn Smythe winner, but that would be his choice. His decision. Not anyone else's.

George and Bitty both started to say something at the same time, and after a few rounds of you go ahead, no you, George simply clammed up and waited for Bitty to speak.

"I, uh... well, I think I should talk to my parents, first." Bitty's voice started out hesitant but determination slowly crept in. "I just, well, that's what I want to do. I want to talk to them."

"We can Skype them together, if you want," Jack said, all too aware of how Bitty was trying to keep from shaking.

Bitty considered it for a moment, then shook his head.

"If you want some privacy, you can call from here. I need to go check in with Marty and Thirdy and let them know the plan for tonight." George got up and went to the door as she spoke. On her way out she gave Bittle's shoulder a squeeze. "Good luck, kiddo, not that you'll need it."

Jack started to get up as well, but Bitty grabbed his wrist. "I need to make this call myself, but I don't want to do it by myself, if that makes sense." Bitty took a deep breath, then turned his phone back on. Bitty paled as notifications flooded the screen, but one of the texts - Jack couldn't see which - earned a faint, fragile smile.

"Here goes everything," he whispered. He looked up at Jack. "Kiss me for luck?"

"Of course." For luck and for everything else, Jack thought as he leaned in for the kiss.

Bitty selected a number that was still at the top of his 'favorites' list and lifted the phone to his ear. It felt like forever before Suzanne answered with a shout that might or might not have been Dicky!

"Hi, Mama. I - "

Bitty didn't have a chance to get a word in edgewise as Suzanne's excited yammering flooded the other end of the line. Jack couldn't make out what she said or if she was upset or excited, but Bitty reached out and grabbed his hand. His eyes were wide and bright.

"No, Mama. I - "

Jack started to ask something, but Bitty shook his head as Suzanne kept up the deluge of words. He sniffled and blinked away tears, but...

"Yes, Mama. We are." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm so sorry we - what? Oh. Oh."

... but he was also smiling.

"Sure! Uh, just hold on a sec, Mama. I'll check."

Bitty leaned up to give Jack a short, sweet kiss.

"For luck," he whispered. Then he handed the phone to Jack. "Not that you'll need it."

Jack took the phone and put it on speaker. "Hello, Suzanne."

The torrent of words hit him like a freight train, and it didn't help that Bitty was laughing at his dilemma while still wiping tears from his eyes. It didn't take long, though, before Jack was laughing as well, assuring Suzanne that yes, yes she and Coach would be more than welcome to come visit for his Cup Day. In retrospect, it might have been a mistake to suggest that he have his Cup Day down in Madison because the shriek of delight was worse than what Marty had subjected him to last night.

"Well, wherever it happens, I want to be there, and I want to get a proper picture of you and Dicky with the cup, you hear? I tell you, I was so mad when Sebastien St. Martin and Randall Robinson dragged you off like that! Now, you be sure to give them an earful on my behalf."

Jack gave Bitty a questioning look. Bitty nodded, trusting him even though he probably had no idea what Jack was thinking.

"Actually," Jack said, "I've got a much better idea. What does your evening look like tonight?"

* * *

"One more!" George pleaded as she held up Marty's phone.

"You said that three photos ago!" Thirdy protested.

"Gabby had her eyes closed on that one. One... two... three!"

This time, the photo was perfect. Three couples, each of them the image of happiness. George handed the phone back to Marty, who posted it with the carefully-crafted-to-look-spontaneous caption that the PR team had spent all afternoon on. Jack got his own phone out, ostensibly to retweet or repost or whatever the hell it was you did with online photos, but that was not what he did.

"It's for you," he said as he handed the phone to Marty, and then he stood back and pulled Bitty into another kiss, because he could.

#omgcp #omgcheckplease #my fic #zimbits #reaction to 3.25 #likely to be jossed by 3.26 #angst and humor #angst and fluff #mentions of parse and he's not doing well #references to homophobia #not what I think will happen but more of a thought exercise in what could happen #actually I hope this gets jossed #criticism and nitpicking welcome

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