After a long, strange life of applying my powerful brain to the analysis of cinematic action sequences, I have distilled their essence into four key points. Herewith:
1: Basics. The actual choreography and execution must be competent, preferably superlative.
2: Uniqueness. A really good fight should contain some distinguishing element that we've rarely or never seen.
3: Wisdom. A superior fight scene gives us a hero who's not just stronger or faster than the bad guy, but able to out-think him in some way. Victory should come about (at least in part) by the hero using strategy, environmental factors, or best of all somehow turning the enemy's own strength against him.
4: Context. Action movies have been insightfully compared to musicals, in that each "number" should be advancing the plot and/or developing the characters in some way. Otherwise they're just noise. Early in Rush Hour, for example, somebody clearly felt there'd been too much plot and not enough punching, and it was time for a random fight scene; and so, we get Jackie Chan walking into a black bar with Chris Tucker, hearing him address a patron as "my nigga," and repeating the phrase with no idea of what it means—whereupon the offended bartender attacks him, and Jackie Chan beats up everybody in the bar. The black bar. Into which he just walked and called one of the patrons the N-word. It's played for laughs, of course, but. . . yeesh. That's what happens when you have a fight just for the sake of a fight.
Let's look at a selection of great cinematic fight scenes and discuss, by the light of these criteria, wherein lies their greatness. I'd like to begin with Kiss of the Dragon, starring Jet Li.
1: Basics. Impeccable choreography and execution. Five stars.
2: Uniqueness. We've seen the glass-breaking theme, and the evil twins theme, but they're used in conjunction here in a fairly memorable way.
3: Wisdom. Firstly, Jet Li's use of the narrow desk space to stop the opponent's kicks. Genius at work. And secondly, his recall of the opponent's back-flipping drop-kick counter when someone catches his foot, and the use of that knowledge to predict his final attack and snap his neck. Dat's da good stuff.
4: Context. No difficulty here, this fight is the climax of the whole movie.
Just for grins, I'm going to include a fight between Jet Li and Dolph Lundgren from the first Expendables, in which Jet uses almost the exact same strategy of incorporating his environment and using the opponent's size against him, except with a slightly different outcome this time around. It's not anywhere near as good a fight, but I give it some points for expectation subversion.
All right, next up is Jason Statham in The Transporter, his first starring action role (after wing-manning Jet Li in the "who needs plots, we've got CGI"-era Highlander/Superman 3 mash-up, The One). This scene is affectionately referred to as The Grease Fight, because. . . well.
1: Basics. Goofy but solid. The flailing and brawling is pretty realistic, and meshes surprisingly well with the cartoony flash of Statham's fighting style. The grease makes it all believable somehow, even four spin kicks in a row all connecting with an opponent. Haven't seen anyone pull that shit since my man Mark in Only the Strong.
2: Uniqueness. I mean
3: Wisdom. This one's kind of cheating, because it's really the same as #2. But still, Statham shows great shrewdness in using the grease in this manner. Full marks.
4: Context. Acceptable. This fight happens towards the end of the movie, as he's gradually punching his way through the goons to rescue the girl with the face and beat up the guy that, you know, kicked an orphaned puppy or whatever the plot is. It doesn't develop Statham's character, because his character in no way changes from being a badass at the beginning to being a badass at the end. But it does move the story along, so. You know. Not a thinking man's film.
Next! I want to talk for a moment about Man of Tai Chi, starring Tiger Chen as Tiger Chen and Keanu Reeves as Evil Keanu Reeves. It's an absolutely amazingly written movie, in that it contains like fifteen different fights (admittedly, several of them occur in a montage), and every single one of them is visibly developing the protagonist's character. It's like a Dostoevsky novel, with tai chi taking the place of soul-shattering epiphanies as the vehicle for personal growth. It's also impressive because with only one exception, every fight is one on one and takes place in a handful of static environments, and yet the martial choreography is so damned spectacular that they're always visually interesting. Let's go to the clip:
1: Basics. Just. . . man! Five stars.
2: Uniqueness. To play fair here, I have to take off points in this category. There's no "gimmick" in this fight, it's just two guys hitting each other. The true strength of this scene, and of the movie as a whole, is that it shines despite (or perhaps because of) the stripped-down purity of the fighting. It doesn't need any gimmicks.
3: Wisdom. Again, just. . . man! Tiger ultimately triumphs because he's able to let go of his own ego (that's essentially his entire character arc), and tap into the sort of Zen inner emptiness from which the power of tai chi flows. And the reason he's finally able to do this is because Keanu himself gives him the prompting to do it—as a taunt. "You're nothing," his last insult before pulling the dishonorable knife, becomes the reminder that Tiger needs to accept his own smallness and become humble enough to ascend. Evil defeats itself.
4: Context. As I mentioned (oh, uh—spoilers?), this scene brings Tiger to the perfect conclusion of his hero's journey. It was Keanu's manipulation that watered the seeds of hubris already within him at the beginning, and in the end it's Keanu's own malice that helps Tiger to defeat himself and thus defeat his external foe as well. Just a magnificently solid character study, and some truly delightful martial artistry. Great flick. We love you, Keanu!
I mentioned Mark Dacascos earlier (star of Only the Strong, the greatest of all capoeira films). Bizarrely, he's probably best known as the back-flipping host of Iron Chef, but he's a phenomenal martial artist, and I have a creepy habit of writing roles into my novels that he could play if they ever become movies. Somehow, he's never quite broken into the action mainstream. For me and my cousin Jes, it was a dream come true to hear that he'd be co-starring with Jet Li, who brought along his buddy DMX from Romeo Must Die for the kung-fu/hip-hop fusion Cradle 2 The Grave. Good idea on paper; but sadly, the movie was pretty mediocre, and even Jet seems like he's phoning it in. Mark was easily the best part of that film, but I want to discuss a different Dacascos delivery: Drive. (Not to be confused with the Ryan Gosling film of the same name.)
This bad boy came out in 1997, just before The Matrix really popularized "wire-fu." It co-stars Kadeem Hardison and Brittany Murphy (requiescat in pace), and it's a surprisingly genuinely funny and likable buddy flick on top of being, man—just the most mind-blowingly awesome martial arts movie. I'm still puzzled that no one ever seems to have heard of this one. I highly recommend it, but let me also add a caveat: there are two versions of it, one being the director's cut which is like 15, 20 minutes longer. I strongly advise not watching that version, because it's all sad backstory stuff and unnecessary side-character deaths that just detract from the levity which is one of the movie's real strengths. So! That said, may I offer you some Dacascos with your tea?
1: Basics. Ahhhhhh, dat's da stuff. The speed and accuracy, the sense of power and impact, it's just damn good fighting. Now, in case you were confused by the ending, let me explain that the bad guy has a bionic implant from an evil corporation, and when he's about to get his ass kicked (right about the 3 minute mark), they suddenly dial up the implants to maximum. That's why he suddenly perks up, and also why his thoracic cavity short-circuits.
2: Uniqueness. It's pretty much par for the course these days, but back in the '90s it was hard to find quality wire-work outside of Hong Kong. I was a huge fan of the wire-heavy Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, but even as a dewy-eyed high-schooler, I never thought the hyperbolic swing-for-the-rafters choreography was anything but goofy and fun. The sheer quality of execution here is what sets this scene apart.
3: Wisdom. I guess we're a little lacking in this particular department. At the very beginning, when Mark is getting his ass handed to him, he busts out his escrima skills with the broken broom handle, basically just to jump-start his mojo and re-convince his own brain that he's not outmatched. Once he sees that the guy's not invincible, he drops the stick and goes head-to-head. Not necessarily the brightest move, but fighter's pride is fighter's pride. And of course, at the end, evil is technically defeated by its own evilness, although that mostly manifests as luck rather than cleverness on Mark's end.
4: Context. Yeah, okay, this movie is definitely not Dostoevsky. The plot is very much a peg on which to hang the action scenes. Let's move along.
Now I have to bring in the blades. If you love the Iliad, you probably don't love the movie Troy. Nor should you. It doggedly expurgates every divine or supernatural element from the narrative, gutting the unearthly sublimity which is the power and point of humanity's first epic. BUT. When it comes to the Hector/Achilles fight. . . All must be forgiven. This is, quite simply, one of The Great Fights. Extreme respect to both Pitt and Bana, who actually did the whole fight themselves. (Pitt even injured his Achilles tendon during the filming, which—hoo boy, no one does Dad jokes like God the Father.)
2: Uniqueness. You don't see much spear-fighting in movies, and I love the way they slowly shed weapons as the fight continues until they're more brawling than fencing. But on the whole, there's no gimmick in this fight. Just amazing sword-art.
3: Wisdom. Debatable. Achilles dominates from beginning to end, and never needs any kind of trick or device beyond being a master tactician and the ultimate swordsman. However, I would argue that this scene triumphs by reversing the usual trope, because the entire point of it is that Hector knows all along that he can't win. There's never any doubt in anyone's mind how it's going to turn out, and yet Hector goes out to fight anyway because he's a man of honor.
4: Context. Crucial moment for the plot as a whole, and for Achilles as a man. It's his lowest point, and the moment that will bring about his final decision as to whether to become a soulless bully or a true warrior when Priam comes to ask for the body of his son.
I know what you're gonna say. This next one isn't technically a fight scene, it's a chase scene. And that may be. But it's sure as hell an action sequence, and I think it contains enough fighting to qualify, if only just. This is from Casino Royale.
1. Basics. I believe the actor that Bond is chasing is one of the people who invented parkour. So presumably, the parkour basics are solid. They sure look cool.
2. Uniqueness. The contrast in their styles is so distinctive. It's awesome and also hilarious, and does a lot to characterize Bond (which we'll revisit in point #4). Parkour guy is constantly flipping and squeezing through stuff, while Bond just flops around and smashes through walls. It's a very memorable antithesis of opponents. Also, Bond catching the gun and throwing it back at the guy, nearly causing him to fall to his death, is one of my all-time favorite movie moments.
3. Wisdom. Lots of little things. Bond keeps seeing that parkour guy is faster and slipperier than he is, and using his environment to compensate. Running up the extending crane shaft, breaking the release valve on the hydraulic lift, jumping onto the back of the van, &c. Clever and tenacious.
4. Context. The scene definitely advances the plot, which is always good; but more importantly, as we noted earlier, it does a great deal to introduce us to the new 007. (Remember, this movie was Craig's inauguration to the role.) It tells us he's powerful and brutal and not too concerned about collateral damage, in sharp contrast to the slick, wise-cracking Bonds of the past.
Next up. There's a pretty universal consensus that the second two Matrix movies (or Matrices) were a bit scattered and incoherent. I don't dissent. But the trilogy concludes with what, to my mind, remains the best flying fight ever put to film. Doing Man of Steel right ten years before Man of Steel did Man of Steel wrong, and bringing us something so fantastically close to a live-action Dragonball Z that I seriously tensed up for a Kamehameha Wave when I saw it for the first time—I give you The Matrix: Revolutions.
1: Basics. Holy shit, dude. Keanu throws one of the most beautiful spin kicks I've ever seen. The meshing of anti-gravity effects with martial arts is just poetry to watch.
2: Uniqueness. Unique not only in the era-creating special effects but in the emotional intensity of the scene. The music, the build-up, the history between these enemies—right down to that profoundly satisfying call-back to the "bring it" gesture from their subway fight, it engages you from the brain to the heart to the guts. (Or as the Oracle might put it, "through and through: balls to bones.")
3: Wisdom. This one is cause for contention. It's clear that Neo defeats Smith by accepting his own death, and that's a major win in this category. But on the other hand, it's not at all clear exactly why, or how, Smith killing (?) or transforming (?) Neo causes all the Smiths to die (?) or de-transform (?), and that kind of robs the climax of some of its intensity. It's not a moment when you want your audience going, "Wait, what?"
4: Context. Well. You don't get more definitive than this.
For our penultimate fight, we take a new and different turn. Like the Matrices, the Star Wars prequels are hotbeds of ambivalence in the fan base. All I can say is, it's gotta be difficult for anybody to do a follow-up to a trilogy that practically defined a generation. But let's put the live-action Star Wars aside, for today I bring you. . .
1: Basics. Yeah. Yeah, it's a cartoon. It's still bitchin', bro.
2: Uniqueness. Just a lot of nice little touches. The vine-swinging, the Force-pushing, the rapidly shifting backgrounds. I'm especially fond of the raindrops falling on the lightsabers.
3: Wisdom. Anakin doesn't exactly out-think Ventress, but he beats her by tapping into the Dark Side as well as the Light, so I guess you could say he out-feels her? That sounds weird.
4: Context. Definite win for character development. They're not really going for subtlety with the giant red moon overhead.
And finally. This is the fight scene upon which I predicated my fight scene criteria. This is the fight scene that brought wuxia to the West. This is the fight scene that shall never be surpassed among fight scenes. Ladies and gentlemen. I bring you Michelle Yeoh v. Zhang Ziyi: Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.
1: Basics. Unmatched. Period.
2: Uniqueness. The weapon-cutting! Yeoh goes through everything in the arsenal, only to have her armaments systematically severed by the Green Destiny. A singular motif indeed.
3: Wisdom. This is genius. Yeoh realizes that whatever weapon she picks up is going to get cut in half, and so she deliberately lets her final sword get split and uses that to get inside Zhang's guard. The older and wiser warrior prevails.
4: Context. Critical moment in their relationship. From here, everything spirals down to tragedy.
Well, folks, there it is. This has been a really fun post for me, and I surely hope you enjoyed it too. I wish you all a dolorous Advent, rife with fasts and ablutions. God bless, and I'll see you all next week. Peace!
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