Review of The Art of Self-Defense (2019) by Hnestlyonthesly — 07 Oct 2019

The Art of Self-Defense deserves better than we can give it. It’s a dry, dark comedy that mocks the toxic masculinity of its genre bedfellows, chief among them Chuck Palanhiuk’s Fight Club. I’d be interested to see if there’s been any sustained discussion of those two films since ASD is so tickled by poking at the hyper masculine boy’s club mentality in the office, at the super market, in the locker room at the dojo–you know, regular guy stuff. Jessie Eisenberg is in his element. The real breakout star for me is Imogen Poots, returned at last from his transcendent Green Room, who is at once violent, misunderstood, kind, and angry as hell.

There are certainly aspects of this story that feel tired. My dad, who has not seen the movie, was able to get me about seventy-five percent of the way there just based on the trailer, but I really do think that the story and its twist rely heavily on the film’s overarching critique of the genre (and by extension, maybe the culture). I don’t know if that relegates it to second-class status with the likes of films like Isn’t It Romantic, but I hope not, because it accomplishes a lot more in the way of humor and surprises than I think the former did.

Wife didn’t think all that much of the movie. Said she was bored by the film for deeply personal reasons. She says she doesn’t care about the story of the agony of the tortured Beta male.

The ending drew applause from the audience and some big, shocked laughs. Poots’s fringe should win best supporting actor.