By: Keaton Marcus

PREFACE:

This post will undoubtedly be the toughest one I've had to do so far in my tiny new wave of essays, and that is because this film is the only one I didn't love out of the several that I've studied recently. The one in question is Nicolas Winding Refn's Only God Forgives, his critically panned follow-up to Drive, marking a second collaboration with Ryan Gosling. It was booed at Cannes; critics rejected it, audiences threw it off as a repulsive, misogynistic, overly violent neon-laden nightmare with pretty visuals. To an extent, I agree with these criticisms. This is by no means a flawless movie. The characters are unlikable, shallow shells of human beings. The thin plot is stretched out to an insufferable 90 minutes, held up by surrealistic visuals that only sometimes work. Gosling doesn't even honestly give an actual performance per se. His acting generally consists of staring into nothingness, languishing in reflective silence. However, there's still plenty to appreciate. I was stunned by the use of shadows and set design, intrigued and interested in its thematic ambitions, and in some way, supportive of the more supernatural aspect in the film. It's a technical masterpiece, and that is mainly exemplified in the "Wanna Fight?" sequence, which in my opinion, is one of the greatest moments in cinematic history. This will be the scene that I will attempt to break down today, sparing the loads of negatives that I also have with this exciting movie.

THE SET-UP:

Let me quickly start by introducing some context into why this entire sequence is occurring. Julian, the protagonist, dreams of challenging God himself, and Chang, the character opposing him, is Winding Refn's embodiment of such. Julian is obsessed with using his hands, fighting without weapons, and this is his chance to do so. The scene begins with Julian asking Chang, "Wanna Fight?" to which he nods. The two head to his boxing ring, and Julian gets ready for the aggression. He walks with his "girlfriend" into the arena, and that's when the entire mood of the scene drastically switches. Chang stands in the middle ominously, looking into a void of nothingness as the camera slowly revolves around him as Julian walks up opposite him. Cliff Martinez's haunting, electrically charged, and persistent music sets the stage as cinematographer Larry Smith over-dramatizes every single mannerism, giving it all an operatically dazzling spirit. The effective use of slow-motion lets Julian's walk pan out for an extended, climactic amount of time. The score pulses, the camera spins in circles gradually. Winding Refn's battle has started with flawless direction.

FISTS AT THE READY:

So, the fight is almost able to start. Julian and Chang stand across from each other, and slowly but surely, Julian's fists begin to rise into a fighting position. The music will almost hit its climax, desperate to release in euphoric, cacophonous madness. The camera holds on to Julian's fighting stance, and then the punches begin after a crisply gorgeous cut to the overhead of the two. Chang seems supernaturally untouchable, reinforcing the theoretical concept of man challenging God. Julian can't land a single blow to his superior enemy as Chang fiercely defends. He's stunned, stumbling over, becoming weaker and weaker with each attempt to attack. Then, Julian's villainous mother Crystal walks into the fight to observe her pitiful son beaten to a bloodied pulp. Julian finally falls to the ground. He's given up. He's failed. Crystal looks disappointed in her cold, detached grimace. Chang mimicks Julian's initial fighting stance, turning it into a position of victory and dominance, intercut by the visual motif of a boxing statue in another room that Julian has tried to imitate throughout the film. Here, Chang realizes it as Julian lies pathetically on the floor, defeated.

THE FINISH:

Surprisingly, Julian struggles to get up and desperately tries to land more punches, swinging left and right. Chang's fists hit at unnatural, terrifying speed with loud cracks every time. More cuts to the statue are employed as Chang continues to dominate the fight, getting Julian to the ground once more. Crystal almost seems embarrassed that she gave birth to him, standing with a shocked look at the sight. She walks off. Julian lies, now unconscious, legs and arms splayed out on the floor. After staring down at his victim, Chang leaves him knocked out, exiting the building after Crystal. The music beautifully begins to subside, getting quieter by the second until everything stops. God has won, and the imitation of the otherworldly, represented by Julian, has quickly and efficiently been eliminated. This entire sequence is without question one of the most incredible sound and set design, music, and cinematography exercises. Each technical aspect works in tandem to create an atmosphere that gives audiences literal chills. It has everything I love in a great movie moment: a build-up that takes its time, a thrilling climax, and a cathartic pay-off with profound meaning. Superb directing and something I will always look up to as I work my way into the filmmaking world.