WHEN YOU THINK ABOUT the distinctive ingredients of Americana, the elements that comprise what we think about when we think of what makes America so…American, it’s easy to recite the clichéd short-list: mom, apple pie, convertibles, rock and roll, McDonalds, sexual repression, colonialism, enhanced interrogations, et cetera.
But really, when you get down to it, we are all about violence. And, to a large degree, violence sort of encompasses all of the things listed above (the violence we do to others, the violence we do to the environment, the violence we do to ourselves–inherent in the desires we succumb to as well as deny, which are epitomized by most religions). But our religion is violence, and our cathedral has long been the silver screen. So we celebrate our addiction to violence in ways less brutal but more calculated than the barbaric Gladiator spectacles of yesteryear (we weren’t Americans yet): by perfecting what has become a universal aesthetic, the movie fight scene. Kind of like porn movie plots are a delivery device for the fucking, action movie plots are often a disposable fulcrum for the fighting.
The actual art of choreographed violence is serious business, literally and figuratively (i.e., in terms of time and money spent, and revenue generated) and really should not be blithely dismissed. There are books written, there are even movies made about the making of movies. So let the academics and darkened room disciples ruminate and pontificate; it’s much more enjoyable to make fun of the ritual that constitutes an entire industry. And it’s certainly a hell of a lot more satisfying to consider the sinister art of the bad fight scene, the dark cousin of the painstakingly crafted celluloid ballet. The bad fight scene, a semi-retarded pas de deux, has evolved into its own special status: it is an indispensable aspect of our culture. Thank God.
To appreciate the curious magic of the laughably bad, it’s helpful to first consider the unassailably good. I don’t know many serious film critics (or fans) who would deny that our nimble brethren from Asia have come closest to elevating the serious fight scene to unprecedented levels of artistry. Two recent examples, each featuring the obligatory one-man vs. the crowd sequence appear in Chan Wook Park’s Old Boy and Prachya Pinkaew’s Tom-Yum-Goong. (More on both, shortly.)
For the purposes of this piece, I am deliberately casting a wider net and not sticking strictly to fisticuffs. Hence, in addition to the compulsory Man vs. Man, we shall sample some essential Man vs. Nature, Man vs. Machine and even Man vs. Himself. Matrix, my ass. I’ll take Steve McQueen in a t-shirt over all those time-traveling leather fetishists any day. As such, no semi-contemporary movies with horseshit CGI. To wit, Terminator 2? Hipster, please. This is mostly old-school, mostly knuckle on flesh, and somebody usually bleeds. Except when they don’t. And especially when they get hurt on the inside, which leaves the types of scars that don’t quickly heal.
Honorable Mention
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
A whole lot of brilliance crammed into a two minute scene.
“You always said any one of us could challenge you Butch.”
“Well that’s ‘cuz I figured no one would do it!”
“Figured wrong Butch.”
“Guns or knives Butch?”
“Listen, I don’t want to be a sore loser but…when it’s done, if I’m dead? Kill him.”
“Rules? In a knife fight?”
And, naturally, a sleight-of-hand that only Paul Newman, in peak rascal mode, could pull off.
Marathon Man
We could nominate the deranged dentist Olivier doing battle with Dustin Hoffman’s teeth, but the truly tense moment is the tussle Roy Scheider gets into with his would-be assassin. Like many scenes from this one, once you see it, it’ll stay seen.
Gymkata
Male gymnast? Check. Pommel horse? Check. Absurdity so off the charts new charts need to be invented? Big check. To recap: the scene would be asanine enough if, say, it took place (conveniently) during an Olympic training session; the fact that there’s a pommel horse in some one-horse (see what I did there?) town? There’s only word for shark-jumping of this magnitude: perfection.
Class and Youngblood
Rob Lowe with a one-two punch to prove that pretty boys can bleed, too. The low-fi throwdown with fellow “tough guy” Andrew McCarthy in Class is quite satisfying in its way. But it’s child’s play compared to Youngblood (which features a younger Patrick Swayze and Keanu Reeves, immediately putting it in schlock overdrive), a cheesefest that reaches almost offensive levels of connect-the-dots corniness. Lowe has already proven he can be pretty and take a punch, but he has to learn how to deliver an ass-whupping, on skates. The bromance battling the testosterone in the final fight scene is operatic in its own hamfisted fashion.
Dreams
Man vs. Nature, Kurosawa-style. This is a disarmingly gorgeous battle (sleep vs. survival) that seems played out, until the last second. Disturbing and oddly cathartic.
Alien
Woman vs. Nature…in space. Scary. Sexy. Sigourney.
Star Wars
When Vader cuts down Obi-Wan that represents, for so many children, the first time they’ll witness Evil beating out Good (and they’ll vaguely understand the notion of sacrifice and something…more than there here-and-now). It’s a classic moment, and no one will ever forget how devastated they were the first time it happened.
Escape from Alcatraz
Because anyone can get raped in prison, except Clint Eastwood. Bonus: handful of soap as a weapon.
Death Wish
Because anyone can get mugged in New York City, except Charles Bronson. Bonus: roll of quarters as a weapon.
Rocky
Feel free to pretend this is #1. It is, it isn’t, and above all, it’s too obvious. Stallone would become such a hack it’s still remarkable—and impressive—to recall he had the restraint and good judgment to let Rocky lose. (Of course, it also opened the door for many sequels.)
Pulp Fiction
Butch vs. Marsellus. It starts in a car, spills into the street, continues down the block, ends up in a pawn shop. And then things get really interesting.
Captain Blood
Errol Flynn and the great Basil Rathbone keeping it real, and the only thing more impressive than the swordplay is the exchange of smiles during this duel. One of them is about to die, and they are both having the time of their lives. As the tide washes over the vanquished foe’s face, Flynn offers up an epitaph for the ages: “And that, my friend, ends a partnership that should never have begun.” Any questions?
Friday
Because before he became a Coors Lite shilling sell-out, Ice Cube used to be a brilliant musician. Dude could act too. The final, vindicating fight scene is like a rap version of The Karate Kid.
Fight Club
No comment necessary, or allowed. Because of the first and second rules. Well-played, boys.
Bullitt
Best car-on-car action ever captured on film. Man vs. Man, in Machines. Steve McQueen was incapable of doing anything in first gear.
Life Imitates Art: Glorious Bastards
Darker Than Amber
How about a fight scene between two bad-ass brutes that (accounts vary as to who threw the first real punch) turned into an actual mêlée as the cameras rolled? According to legend, after the first few stunt punches, the rest of this (including the bottle, lamp and broken mirror) is all real (!) resulting in William Smith nursing three broken ribs and Rod Taylor getting a broken nose. Any way you cut it, this one belongs in its own category.
This essay originally appeared in The Weeklings on 7/29/15.
