Hayao Miyazaki and Conflict in Movies

My sister is a huge fan of the film maker Hayao Miyazaki.  Because of this, almost half of the gifts I got her for her birthday this year were Miyazaki related, and we marathoned four of his movies throughout the day as part of her birthday celebration.  Three of them- My Neighbor Totoro, Kiki's Delivery Service, and The Secret World of Arrietty- were movies of his I had never seen before.  Like the other Miyazaki movies I've seen (Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind, Princess Mononoke, Spirited Away, Howl's Moving Castle, and The Wind Rises), I loved them.  The fourth movie we watched was Howl's Moving Castle, as it was the first Miyazaki movie I had ever seen and my memory of it had become foggy.

 

Upon rewatch, I was reminded Howl's Moving Castle is just your run of the mill "female protagonist lives life for others, protagonist meets boy, boy turns out to be wizard, jealous witch turns protagonist into an old woman, protagonist meets turnip scarecrow and sassy flame demon, protagonist and wizard team up to avert war and rescue people and other living creatures along the way" story.  Pretty standard stuff, really.

There's a lot to love about his movies.  The beautiful, imaginative worlds he creates; the relaxed but confident pacing that is never afraid to take a moment to breath, rather than constantly charge forward; the recurring motifs of respecting nature, female agency, and avoiding violence. What I want to focus on here, though, is how he creates conflict in his movies.

Conflict is the force that drives the plot in most storytelling works.  The idea is that the protagonist has to overcome something- be it external, internal, or both- in order to achieve what they want.  Whether they desire inner peace or to rescue a loved one or to obtain a laser that fires Steve Buscemis, they face conflict in order to reach said objective(s).

With great Buscemi comes great responsibility.

In many family friendly films, the conflict is driven by an antagonist who is clearly, unambiguously bad.  From the Wicked Queen in Snow White to Scar in Lion King, kid's movies often feature villains who are so pointlessly evil that they probably do the five finger shuffle to the thought of drowning innocent puppies and kittens.  At first thought, it makes sense: making easy to understand distinctions between good and bad help give children a clear picture of positive versus negative morality as they build their own moral foundation during their formative years.

Obviously, though, the problem lies in the fact that real life is rarely that simple.  Apathy, fear, greed, anger, and weakness are responsible for a lot more problems in the world than "evil" is, if such a thing even exists.  But when kids are still forming their own base concept of right vs wrong, are they able to handle a more nuanced approach in the way antagonists and conflict are portrayed?  Hayao Miyazaki's answer would be an unequivocal "fuck yes", and his films are all the better for it.

Many of Hayao Miyazaki's antagonists, rather than being evil for the sake of being evil, are people, spirits, and creatures that have clear, understandable reasons behind what they do.  Sometimes they do things that are bad for sympathetic or otherwise non-malicious reasons; sometimes their actions cause harm unintentionally.  Some of his movies don't even have actual "antagonist" characters, and conflict is derived from internal struggle or external environmental factors.

Here I will go through some of the movies of his I've seen to illustrate different ways he creates conflict in his films.  There are, obviously, spoilers ahead.

Nausicaa of the Valley of the Wind
 
Often considered Hayao Miyazaki's first Studio Ghibli film and my personal favorite of his, Nausicaa tells the story of the titular character and her struggle to prevent war and save her homeland in the Valley of the Wind.  She does so in a world ravaged by an apocalyptic war that happened a thousand years prior to the start of the movie.  The majority of the earth is now covered in a toxic jungle, which is guarded by giant insect creatures called ohmu.

Everything kicks off when an airship from the Kingdom of Tolmekia crashes in the Valley of the Wind.  The airship carried both the captured princess of the Tolmekian's rival kingdom, the Pejites, and the embryo of a Giant Warrior, which were genetically engineered biological weapons that helped cause the apocalyptic war.  The Tolmekians invade the next morning and occupy the Valley of the Wind while they try to raise the Giant Warrior, hoping they will be able to defeat the Pejites and destroy the Toxic Jungle.  When the Pejites find out that the Tolmekians are in the Valley, they lure a stampede of ohmu there to wipe them out in an act of revenge.

What's important to note about the conflict in this movie is that the motivations the movie gives each group makes sense.  The Pejites and Tolmekians fight each other not because one side is clearly good while the other is evil, but rather because of a tragic escalation of violence, fear, and hatred that has arisen between the two.  Likewise, the desire of the Tolmekians to use the Giant Warrior against the Toxic Forrest isn't some evil plot for world domination, but rather a desperate quest for survival.  Before Nausicaa discovers the earth is healing beneath the Toxic Forrest, everyone- even the residents of the Valley of the Wind- fear desperately for their own survival in such a hostile environment.  The move is a rash one by people desperate to cling to life, not by an unambiguously "evil" group of people.

In the end, Nausicaa is able to solve the conflict by resisting violence and embracing a calm, healing approach.  When she stops the stampede of ohmu by bringing back the kidnapped ohm baby the Pejites used to lure them there, she is almost trampled to death, but the ohms heal her to reciprocate her own healing means she has stuck by throughout the film.  After violence is averted and she tells the people about the healing forest, the fighting stops because all the desperation and fear driving everyone's actions up to that point are eased.  Not only do the ohmu and Tolmekians leave after the conflict, but the Pejites actually stay in the Valley of the Wind to help them rebuild.

The main ideas behind the entire movie are actually summed up by one seemingly small scene in the beginning, when Nausicaa first meets the fox squirrel.  What happens between the two of them is basically a microcosm of the entire movie:

My Neighbor Totoro

The next movie by Miyazaki after Nausicaa, My Neighbor Totoro is a very different film.  Set in relatively modern times, the story is about two sisters who move to a new home in the countryside with their father.  Their mother, meanwhile, is in a hospital, being treated for a nondescript illness.  The large, ambitious themes of Nausicaa are largely absent, though it is worth noting that living with nature, rather than fearing it, is still a prominent theme.

The conflict in this movie is not very overt.  There certainly aren't any wars or super weapons to be found here.  In his Great Movies writeup of the film, Roger Ebert even said that Totoro is "based on experience, situation and exploration--not on conflict and threat."  Later on in the same article, as he describes the infamous bus stop scene, he writes: "notice how calmly and positively the scene has been handled, with the night and the forest treated as a situation, not a threat. The movie requires no villains."

There is, however, a source of conflict in the film: the girls trying to cope with the absence of their mother.  Throughout the film, and especially towards the end, the girls become increasingly saddened by their mother's absence as she recovers in the hospital.  The desire of these two protagonists is to spend more time with their mother, and the obstacle is her hospital stay.  No conniving plots to hurt anyone else, no malicious bullying children, no adults who inexplicably hate kids unrelentingly.  Just two little girls who want to see their mom again.

The rest of the film, then, could be analyzed in a number of ways.  Perhaps the creatures and spirits they encounter are a product of their imagination, a coping mechanism of sorts; perhaps the creatures and spirits are real and can sense their sadness.  Perhaps these creatures and spirits are real, and are willing to show up to every child who is receptive to them.  Perhaps they are figments of the girls' imagination, not as a coping mechanism to make up for how much they miss their mom, but because of their love of adventure and/or nature.

Whatever the reality of this film, its reliance on adventure and imagination, rather than evil antagonists, are a unique and pleasant approach to story telling.  While it doesn't give us many lessons for the ugly realities of the world we live in the way, say, Nausicaa or Princess Mononoke do, its model of story telling does still encourage a certain gentleness, curiosity, and harmony with nature, all of which are wonderful traits to encourage in children (or anyone, really).

Kiki's Delivery Service

Of the four movies we watched on my sister's birthday, I think Kiki's Delivery Service may have been my favorite.  The story revolves around Kiki, a young witch from the countryside, trying to find a big city to move to so that she can train to become a witch.

Near the beginning of the movie, when Kiki is flying around with the goal of finding a city to begin her training, she runs across another young witch in training.  The witch is very rude to her, but Kiki is unrelentingly kind nonetheless.  Because of this, the witch- while not changing her abrasive demeanor- actually gives some helpful advice about using one's inner skills when working as a witch in training.  A lesser movie would've kept her hostility and established her as an antagonist for Kiki to overcome.  Here, though, Kiki shows that being nice to people often pays off.

The main conflict of this movie comes from Kiki's own insecurities about herself.  When she first chooses a town to train in, she is disappointed to find out how apathetic everyone is about her arrival.  The conflict comes not from people making a big deal to hurt or belittle her, but rather how little of a deal they make of it at all.  How will she make it in this big, seemingly uncaring place that she is unfamiliar with?  Anyone moving to a new city for the first time can certainly relate to this.

Luckily, a kindly baker named Osono takes her in.  Soon after, Kiki realizes her ability to fly sets her up perfectly for a delivery service.  There are complications when she starts, as is to be expected when someone starts doing something for the first time, but as the movie goes on Kiki becomes more and more insecure about herself.  She is nervous around extroverted people and hates the dark dress she has, wishing she instead had the more colorful dresses worn by the city girls.  Because of this, she loses her ability to fly and talk to her cat Jiji.

Her inevitable return to form comes not from a need to defeat an evil villain, but from an artist named Ursula who teaches her that it's okay to be different and important to believe in yourself.  When a severe windstorm puts her friend Tombo, who is on an airship at the time, in danger, she summons her courage and believes in herself enough to reach out and save him.

Princess Mononoke

My second favorite Miyazaki film, I almost didn't write an entry for this one considering how similar it is to Nausicaa, both thematically and structurally.  Both are about a pacifist protagonist who tries to stop a war and prevent the corruption of nature for humanity's personal gain, but presented in a way that looks at the humans involved with sympathy rather than painting them as unambiguously malicious.

I decided to include this entry, however, because while Princess Mononoke says a lot of the same things as Nausicaa, it does so in a much darker and more complex way.  Whereas Nausicaa is successful 100% of the time at preventing severe violence and only uses violence once herself, in a very understandable fit of rage after losing her father, Ashitaka isn't always successful in deescalating conflict and uses violence to defend himself multiple times.  More than once, he actually directly kills his enemies.

On top of that, there are more factions here than there were in Nausicaa.  We still have the rival human factions that are warring, but now nature itself is split; the apes, wolves, and boars all have different approaches to how they want to defend themselves.  The wolves engage in what is essentially guerrilla warfare with the humans, while still being kind enough to take in one and raise her as their own; the boars desperately launch all-out attacks, as they are losing their elders and spiritual leaders at such a pace that they are losing themselves; the apes try to plant trees and want to eat the humans, as they don't seem to have the combat prowess to battle them the way the boars and wolves do.

Like with Nausicaa, the humans are also fighting for survival.  Lady Eboshi is perhaps one of the most complex antagonists ever put to film, animated or not.  She treats people whose humanity is routinely neglected, such as brothel workers and lepers, like people deserving of love and respect just like anyone else.  Her ambition is to be able to expand Iron Town not so she can rule the world, but so she can keep her and her people safe.  Her goals are a little foolhardy and reckless, of course, but they're done out of good intentions.

Jigo, the fake monk working for the emperor, is probably the closest to "evil" in the movie.  But it's important to note that greed is the root cause of his actions, not malice.  He's like a (much less terrible) version of The Comedian from Watchmen.  He understands the way the world works and how terrible it can be, and he cynically goes with the flow in order to benefit from it.  Unlike The Comedian, however, Jigo seems a decent enough guy when not directly working toward his own self-interest.  When he first meets Ashitaka, the protagonist, he sticks up for him when Ashitaka tries to buy some rice.  He's out for himself, but if it doesn't cost him anything, he'll look out for someone else, too.  Of course, his selfish approach isn't a good one, but he's far from a one-dimensionally evil bad guy.

Unlike Nausicaa, there is a lot of violence and bloodshed in Mononoke.  Humans and boars go to war, and the Forest Spirit gets its head severed despite Ashitaka and San's best efforts.  Many people are killed.  However, like with Nausicaa, the root cause of this violence is caused by the mind-killing fear of feeling threatened.  Even the emperor whom Jigo is working for is afraid; he wants to be immortal because he fears his own death.

Having established this, the lessons and model of conflict are largely the same as in Nausicaa.  The factions clash, the protagonist works to stop them from continuing to clash, humanity's attempts to exert control over nature and each other backfire, and everyone goes their separate ways when they realize the error of their ways, rather than continuing to fight and perpetuate the cycle of violence.

The Wind Rises
 
Hayao Miyazaki's final film, The Wind Rises, is much different than the rest of his filmography.  The film follows Jiro Horikoshi, a peaceful daydreamer who loves the idea of flying and grows up to become an airplane engineer.  Unlike Miyazaki's other films, whose plots cover events that don't have a particularly long timeline, The Wind Rises follows Jiro's life from his years as a child all the way to adulthood.  Through it he experiences love, loss, tough moral dilemmas, and, of course, airplanes.

There are three central sources of conflict in this film: his challenge in learning to build planes in the first place, the moral dilemma that his planes are used for war, and his wife's case of tuberculosis.  As you have probably noticed as a recurring theme by now, none of these conflicts come from a bad guy who wants to destroy the world.

The first part of the film is about Jiro's challenges in trying to make it in the field of engineering.  As a child he wanted to be a pilot, but when he shares a dream with an Italian plane designer named Caproni, he is told that someone with glasses doesn't have the eyesight to become a pilot.  In response, Jiro decides he will make planes instead, which Caproni encourages.  As Jiro works towards becoming a good aeronautical engineer he faces a fair number of setbacks, which is to be expected with the development of any skill, especially one as technical and complex as this one.

Eventually he starts to get the hang of it.  He also ends up marrying Nahoko, a girl whom he had met when he helped her after an earthquake earlier in the film.  Things aren't all good, however.  She has tuberculosis, which is killing her.  And, speaking of killing, Jiro becomes increasingly unhappy with the fact that his planes are being turned into instruments of war.  The rest of the movie's conflict comes from the couple trying to cope with Nahoko's declining health and Jiro grappling with the fact that his planes, those vehicles of freedom and adventure, are being used in war.

What the conflict in this film ultimately boils down to in this film, then, are trying to appreciate the painfully finite time we have with our loved ones and trying to conciliate our values with how we support ourselves.  These are defining characteristics of what it means to be human.


Hayao Miyazaki's movies create conflict in a way where blame and moral deficiency don't lie squarely on the shoulders of one character or group.  Sometimes it's because the characters and factions involved have good reason for what they do, whereas other times it's because there aren't actually any characters or factions causing conflict at all.  Hayao Miyazaki is one of the best film makers of all time, and I count myself lucky to have been around during the career of such an all time great.  Hopefully, in the wake of his retirement, more animated film makers step up to continue his practice of making truly fantastic animated films in the same mold as him and other animation greats, such as Pixar's John Lasseter and Pete Docter.

The Human Condition Trilogy

To say something everyone everywhere already understands: the world can be a fucked up place sometimes.  As human beings, we are capable of creating as much horror as we are beauty, as a look at any history book or news program will tell us.  One of the most profound and important issues we have to grapple with in this life is how we can stick to our own principles in a world that can be so unthinkably brutal, so that we may stay true enough to ourselves to live a life we consider worth living in the short amount of time we have.

There are plenty of movies that are about finding meaning in life, as well as movies about people trying to stick to their convictions despite everything that is thrown at them.  Some even combine them, such as Akira Kurosawa's masterpiece Red Beard.  Movies that explore these types of themes are usually among my favorite (provided everything is well executed, of course).

For me, the Human Condition trilogy covers all of these questions about human identity better than any other film or film series I have ever seen.  The name of the trilogy is an ambitious one, but luckily the films themselves are up to par with the title.  These movies are the fulfillment of everything cinema has the potential to be.



The protagonist of the trilogy is a man named Kaji.  He is a twenty eight year old pacifist who believes that all human beings deserve to be treated with respect to their human rights.  He's not afraid to stand up for these beliefs, either.  Throughout the trilogy, much of the conflict involves him trying to stay true to his convictions despite all of the human ugliness around him, as well as trying his best to make it home to his wife Michiko.

The protagonist is played by Tatsuya Nakadai, who absolutely nails the role.  He plays Kaji with a dignified gravity, crafting him as a stern, prideful, flawed, but ultimately good human being who always tries to stand with his beliefs.  He also does so with a certain sense of style that makes Kaji come off as cool- though this fades a bit later on in the trilogy, as conditions become increasingly desperate for him.  Few characters in cinema are as noble and aspiration-worthy as Kaji.

To be clear, though, Kaji certainly isn't perfect.  He is often times far too prideful and hard-headed.  He also tends to keep things from his wife, even when she repeatedly tells him explicitly that she wants to know about everything going so that she can be another ally for him in his fight to stand up for his principles.  In fact, his communication issues extent not only to his wife, but to a lot of other people as well.

In reviews that I've read about the film, some people have said these flaws make him come off as self-righteous and hypocritical.  I find that view highly disappointing.  If someone has to be perfect in order to stand up for their values, then no one in the entirety of human existence, real or imagined, has ever earned the right to do so, and if we retroactively erased every gain for human rights people fought for throughout history the world would be far, far worse off than it is now.  Rather, I find his flaws make him a more human, well-rounded character, as well as more relatable.  It's much easier to see yourself in an imperfect character than a perfect one.



Each of the three films takes place somewhere different, in situations that are increasingly bad for Kaji.  I'll keep the descriptions for each entry short and mostly spoiler free (the main gist of the first and second movie's plots will be mentioned since they contextualize the second and third entries, respectively, but nothing mentioned here is more spoiler-y than anything you'd read on the back of the DVD box or any sort of video description).

The first entry, No Greater Love, takes place in Japanese occupied Manchuria, an area in Northeastern China (and a bit of eastern Mongolia) that was colonized by the Japanese and given a puppet, pro-Japanese government in 1932.  At the beginning of the movie, set during WW2, Kaji is given the option of either enlisting in the Japanese army or becoming a labor supervisor in a Chinese labor camp.  Adamantly opposed to the war, he chooses the latter option with the goal of making conditions less miserable for the Chinese laborers that work there.

When he gets to the labor camp, his beliefs rooted in pacifism, human rights, and socialism are put to the test.  This is during the time of a right wing, imperialist Japan, and the system he finds himself in does everything it can to resist his attempts to give Chinese laborers more humane conditions.  To say the film is a series of ups and downs is an understatement.  Sometimes he succeeds, sometimes he fails, and all of these successes and failures have real, tangible effects on the Chinese laborers, himself, his partner Okishima (the only other administrator of the camp who sees the Chinese laborers as human beings, though not to the same extent Kaji does), and his wife Michiko.

At the end of the movie, Kaji receives a summons to fight for the Japanese army due to a series of events best seen in the film.  Thus begins the second entry, Road to Eternity, which follows Kaji as he becomes part of the Japanese military machine he so staunchly opposes.  When shipped off to basic training, he excels at every aspect of his training, but his leftist leanings and tendency to stick up for fellow recruits being bullied by the veterans in the barracks single him out for harsh treatment and high scrutiny by the brass.



Interesting side note: the beginning half of the movie is incredibly similar to the movie Full Metal Jacket, to the point where it's clear Kubrick saw this movie and decided to use elements of Kaji's experience in boot camp for his own film.

Between his unbreakable will and the support he receives from friends he makes along the way, such as another left leaning soldier among the veterans named Shinjo, a hospital nurse, and a fellow patient in the hospital, Kaji makes it through basic training and eventually ends up leading a team of new recruits.  He does his best to stick up for these recruits, preventing them from facing corporal punishment and other abuses from both officers and veteran trainees alike.

Eventually, they all end up on the battlefield.  To spare the details of the battle, things get rough.  Kaji eventually loses most of his squad but vows to stay alive, which leads to the final point of the trilogy: A Soldier's Prayer.

The third and final film in the trilogy is also the fastest moving of the three.  The Japanese military defeated, Kaji leads a group of survivors to try to reach the Manchurian border so that they can return to society as they know it.  A lot happens to the group, which keeps losing and gaining new members, as they have run ins with groups ranging from Japanese holdouts to Chinese peasants.  The entire time, Kaji finds himself increasingly desperate, and he struggles to keep true to his own personal morals.  These struggles continue even when they are eventually captured by Soviet soldiers and put into a POW camp.

What's powerful to me about this trilogy is its connection to the title.  Throughout the saga you see humanity at its worse, but through that suffering you also see true human empathy, dignity, and a willingness to stand up even when everything is against you.  No punches are pulled, and that makes these films quite bleak at times, but it also makes the parts of real human goodness all the more touching and powerful.



Another great part about the film is that you really get to see Kaji grow as a person, as well as grow to meet more like minded people along the way- in  fact, the two are connected.  In the first film, for instance, he is terrible at reaching out to others and suffers for it.  As time goes on, however, he learns to form strong bonds with other genuinely good people.  The moments in the trilogy with these friendships help counteract the bleak human ugliness you see throughout the films.

Despite how great these films are, though, they are not without their flaws.  There are many moments that go from human tragedy to melodramatic, sometimes for seemingly no reason at all.  At times the pacing of the films can feel rushed, while other times they can feel slow.   The antagonists throughout the trilogy also sometimes seem one-dimensional, ready to enforce a strict status quo without thought or feeling, though there are exceptions.

These flaws are heavily outweighed by how moving and powerful everything is as a whole, however.

In terms of the bigger picture, The Human Condition is about the rise and fall of imperial Japan on the surface.  But underneath it is so, so much more.  Through the personal journey of a man who goes from a position of power to being oppressed, we see how militarism, imperialism, and oppression changes forms and hands throughout the ages, but should always be opposed regardless of the specifics involved.

After being forced out of isolation in 1854 by Commodore Perry, Japan later began its rise as an imperial power in the early 20th Century after beating Russia in a war in 1905.  China, Korea, and other places in Eastern Asia were colonized by the Japanese, and there were many human rights abuses.  Yet China itself has had its own issues in enforcing oppressive hegemony, starting from when the Hans coerced various other ethnic groups to create modern China, all the way up to today with places like Taiwan and Tibet.  We all know about Russia during its Soviet Union days, and Europe during the days of colonization.  The Americas, including the United States, were literally founded on the eradication of Indigenous people and the enslavement of Africans.  And, since becoming an empire, the United States has been responsible for its own share of horrors all over the world, from the 1901 Platt Amendment that made Cuba subservient to the US, all the way to the nonsensical War on Terror today that benefits no one except private military industries.

From how I saw it, the point of this trilogy isn't to demonize Japan or Russia, but to oppose militarism, imperialism, and oppression whenever they show up.  These are things human beings have been doing to each other throughout history, and this sort of human oriented horror shows no signs of slowing down any time soon.  But Kaji and other people from this incredible trilogy show us there always potential to be better.  We always, always have the ability to be better.

The Humanist Headkick Collection

Hey there, internet world!  I've talked a lot about being a writer on here, and after a bunch of delays, I finally have my own short story collection published!  Needless to say, I am very excited.  If you like reading short stories, give 'em a go!  This collection is for a hard copy, but I'll have a Kindle version up soon.

The stories in that collection are all over the place.  Some take place in the present, some in a fiction sword and armor battlefield type of past, and one even takes place in a fictional afterlife.  A lot of my interests are, of course, in the collection, such as a story about a kickboxing match.

This has been a long time coming.  Thanks to any of you reading who have helped me along the way, and thanks to any of you reading who decide to order a copy!

Fighting GIF Breakdown

For me, one of the coolest parts about watching professional fighting matches is breaking down the hows and whys for everything we see on screen.  Physical attributes like strength and speed are very important factors in a fight, and obviously play a huge part in who makes it to the big leagues.  But here's the thing: many top combat athletes have comparable speed and strength, and often wins we attribute to physical factors are actually tactical victories.

In this post, I'll use some GIFs from different boxing, kickboxing, and MMA matches to show what I mean.  All of these GIFs are from the awesome blog MMA-GIFs, many of them created by the person (persons?) who runs the page.







What's great about this uppercut is how red gloves uses some basic striking principles to land it.  Notice how an instant before he throws it, he steps sliiiiiightly to his right (check his right foot), and also leans his upper body to the right.  This moves him off of the center line of attack that his opponent is currently swinging wildly through.  Black gloves has his gloves in front of his face to shield him, but this also blinds him to red gloves' subtle change in position.

Simultaneously, red gloves also throws his right uppercut from his right side, which is now off the center line.  Black gloves doesn’t even see the punch coming, and walks right into it.  Getting an opponent to walk into a punch always makes that punch land much harder, the same way a traffic accident will be more devastating with a head on collision than getting rear-ended.  It’s basic physics.



Red gloves sees the body jab coming from blue gloves and decides to crash in on it.  Sometimes when an opponent throws a straight punch (that is, the punch is reaching out straight in front of you, instead of something like a hook or an uppercut) to the body, if you can see it coming, you can crash in and jam up your opponent’s punch.  You’re moving in before their arm can extend all the way, so while they’re jammed you can throw a more appropriate punch for the short range you’re in (a hook or an uppercut).

In this case, homie thought he could do that, but blue gloves was really just throwing a quick little body jab to set up for his right cross that red gloves walked right into.  Like I said in the above breakdown, collisions: way more force.



A lot of times when an opponent lands a head kick, people remark "wow, it was so quick his opponent didn't see it coming!"  Now, of course, there are some fighters who are so quick and efficient with head kicks, that can sometimes be the case.  More often than not, however, head kicks come about as a result of careful setup.  By studying this picture, it becomes clear that this was a case of the latter.

Notice how when red gloves throws the kick, blue gloves lifts his leg.  This isn’t a case of “oh shit, I didn’t see a kick coming!”  Blue gloves saw the kick and believed it was coming for his leg, rather than his head, hence why he brought up his leg to check it.  This means his opponent had been kicking him repeatedly in the leg, conditioning him to think that was where his next kick would always be headed.  After doing this enough times, blue gloves raised his leg automatically anytime he saw a kick coming.  This time, however, the kick went for his head.

This is one of the most popular head kick set ups you will learn in any Muay Thai class.  Hammer away at the legs and/or body as much as you can.  Eventually, they will start trying to shield those areas reflexively when they sense a kick, and that's when you go to the head.  The exact same principle is in boxing, too: go for the body when they cover the head, and go for the head when they cover the body.



This picture is another example of why shielding your face with your gloves isn't the best defense.  Red gloves throws a nasty jab-cross combo that blue gloves covers up to avoid.  While putting your gloves in front of you like that you are blind, and there is always a split second where you have to move your gloves so you can see again.  Red gloves threw a kick during that split second moment, when blue gloves was lowering his gloves so he could see again.

A noteworthy detail here is that when red gloves threw his jab, he took a diagonal left-forward step.  This put him in a better position to launch attacks from both his rear hand and leg, because now they are that much closer to his opponent's center line.  This closing in distance means a slight downgrade in power, but a strike with slightly less power that lands is infinitely better than a stronger strike that doesn't.  Especially when the strike that lands is a head kick that the opponent doesn't see coming.



This one is from an MMA match between Georges St Pierre (red gloves) and Carlos Condit (blue gloves), who happens to be my favorite welterweight fighter.  In the match, Condit landed this beautiful head kick and was the first person in years to seriously threaten GSP's record-breaking run as the welterweight champion.  Unlike the previous GIFs, this is less about masterful striking fundamentals and more about the value of an unorthodox approach.

In most striking gyms, fighters are taught to try and throw strikes both during and after you duck or bob your head to avoid a punch.  That way, you're putting out offense as well as defense.  Most of the time, the moves are punches.  Throwing a kick as you're coming up from being hunched over is very difficult and requires a lot of flexibility.

In this match, Condit decided to throw a head kick instead.  Nobody saw it coming, least of all GSP.  One of the biggest risks about a headkick in MMA is how open it leaves you to being taken down; indeed, we had already seen it in this fight.  Here, however, he threw up during a time where few people do and was rewarded with a knockdown.

This shows the importance of trying new, unorthodox ways of applying something.  Sometimes it won't work out, but other times it will succeed wonderfully.

Debate Tips From a Former College Debater

Hey everyone, sorry for another long gap between posts.  While I have indeed been busy, the real reason for my absence is that I hadn't been able to think of much I've wanted to say on here recently.  Over the last few days, however, I've had a few good discussion about socio-political issues, and it got me thinking about my time in debate.  Specifically, what skills I gained from the activity.

I joined the debate team during my final year at Palomar College, during the 2010-2011 school year.  I went in to improve my speaking and persuasive abilities, as well as learn more about all the lofty ideas and multifaceted issues I was sure to encounter.  I ended up doing well enough in the activity- I wasn't great at it, but I wasn't bad, either- and tried to stick with it after I transferred.  Unfortunately, UC Irvine didn't have much of a team, and I wasn't able to keep competing due to lack of a partner; I did, however, continue with the activity as an occasional coach, judge, and guest lecturer for Palomar.

There is a lot of bullshit in debate.  Some people care less about the personal growth/education aspect and more about winning.  I don't blame them, either; there are scholarships available if you are good enough, and higher education ain't cheap.  Regardless, there's a lot of tricks that people used that will never actually help you outside of a debate round: speaking fast so the opposing team has trouble keeping up ("spreading"), using overly verbose and/or convoluted terms so that the opposing team has no idea what is happening, throwing out a shit ton of half-assed arguments- so many that the opposing team can't possibly address all of them- and then hammering away at the ones the opponents didn't address, etc.

I bring that up not to talk shit, but to make sure I don't idealize college debate as this flawless, purely intellectual activity.  Those of us in the debate community are subject to bullshit just like anyone.  Other than our rock hard abs, we're just like everybody else.

Debaters in between rounds.

Still, there was a lot I gained from the activity.  Here are four things that have helped me as someone who likes to discuss and debate socio-political issues.

4. Clash
If I were asked to point to just one thing that makes online debates terrible- aside from "everything" and "racism"- it would be the lack of clash in these debates.  In the debate circuit, "clash" means that you have to address everything your opponent says, line by line, point by point, and your opponent must do the same.  In novice rounds, matches are often decided in large part simply by who actually addresses their opponent's arguments.

This is the fundamental problem with a lot of online debates.  Participants will often exchange talking points and call each other fools, addressing only a [distorted version of] their opponent's main thesis, and never actually respond to the points they gave in support of that argument (or only cherry picking a point or two to respond to).

Let's say Person A thinks the death penalty should be legal, and Person B doesn't.  Person A says that it should be legal because victim's families should be able to find closure and the punishment should fit the crime; Person B says the state can't say murder is wrong while murdering, and also brings up the alarming racial disparity in who gets the death penalty.  Person A responds by reiterating their points and elaborating more on what they said, and Person B responds by addressing common arguments made by pro-death penalty people instead of the arguments specifically brought out by Person A.

Then Raekwon comes in and advocates for a Guillotine and Swordz policy.

In this all too familiar scenario, neither person is "clashing" with their opponent's arguments.  Throwing talking points back and forth, and addressing points that have either been distorted or not brought up at all, destroy good dialogues far too often.

Next time you find yourself in a discussion, try to see how much clash is or isn't happening.  If it's not happening, call attention to it (and try to evaluate if it is happening on your end, too).  If the conversation continues with no clash then it isn't going anywhere, and probably not worth continuing.

3. Paying Attention to Criteria
In competitive debate, the affirmative team gets to set the parameters for the round at the beginning.  They are able to define the words in the resolution, decide what type of round it is, and, perhaps most importantly, define the criteria for victory (if this sounds unfair, know that if the negative team doesn't like the parameters the affirmative set for the round, they can argue against them).  Usually the criteria set for the round is "net benefits", which means whichever team makes the world an overall better place.  Other criteria can be chosen if the affirmative team so desires, however, and the criteria can be anything ranging from net benefits for a specific group (net benefits for oppressed people, the environment, the economy, etc) to concepts (such as fairness).

Criteria: whichever plan better preserves the Lifestream.

This is another aspect that is often a "gotcha!" moment for new debaters.  The affirmative team might set the criteria as net benefits for religious minorities, and the negative team might ignore that completely while debating as if the criteria were the usual "net benefits [for everyone/everything]" standard.  If the affirmative team calls out the fact that every argument the negative team has made that doesn't apply to religious minorities doesn't count at the end of the round, it's a devastating blow that usually wins them the match.

The usefulness for this one goes beyond just debates.  If you understand the criteria for success in any given situation, then you can focus on what you need to do to succeed, and you can even get away with a few things if you can argue they aren't important to the criteria at hand.  I've worked for years in customer service positions, and I am often able to talk myself out of trouble whenever I disobey store policy in the interest of good customer service (for instance, returning something for an especially kind or loyal customer even if things are past the return date).

In debates, ask yourself what the criteria might be for you to successfully persuade someone.  In a generic internet debate, this might prove tricky.  In discussion in specific contexts, however, this line of thinking can be quite helpful.

Imagine you were a candidate running for office; you will, of course, need to debate your political opponent(s) at some point.  Imagine your main issue is to make education free.  Now imagine you were having three debates with your opponent on the issue, but in three areas: a university, a business owners convention, and a military base.  In each area, it would be important to think of what criteria you should be focusing on in this debate.  In the first, you'd have an easy time; in the second, you could talk about the positive economic impacts of an educated populace; in the third, you could talk about how much people who serve in the military are often cheated out of the GI Bill.

Almost as if, for some wacky reason, the government doesn't want veterans to be educated.

This the importance of thinking of criteria.  Whenever you find yourself trying to persuade, ask yourself: what criteria should I operate under?

2. Impacts
Another part of debate rounds is discussing why your plan or counter-plan matters, and why your opponent's plan or counter-plan sucks.  Usually, the way this happens is through what are called advantages (different reasons as to why your shit is awesome) or disadvantages (different reasons as to why your opponent's shit isn't).  The basic structure is the harm (what is going on that sucks right now), the link (how your plan addresses that problem or your opponent's plan makes it worse), and the impacts (why this matters/what results from it; literally, the impact that it has).  Often there are more parts added to these, but for the sake of simplicity, we'll stick to the harm-link-impact model.

In the higher levels of debate, when debaters have learned the tricks and how to avoid falling for them, impacts often become a deciding factor in who wins a round.  So you're passing a plan for free education free of any strings attached that barely raises taxes?  Fantastic.  But it doesn't mean anything unless you can explain why this is a good thing.

Let's try to impact this out.  First, to create advantages.  Let's say you have three: poverty, knowledge of self, and the economy.  In the first advantage, you'd list the harm (poverty being a thing), the link (making education more accessible), and finally, the impacts (increasing upward mobility, meaning more people can work their way out of poverty, meaning more people will be able to secure livings with fiscal security, meaning more people will be able to have food and shelter, etc).  For the other two, you'd explain why having increased knowledge of self and why the improvements to the economy brought about by more affordable education are awesome in the same harm-link-impact format.

The overall organization of an advantage or disadvantage is important, but what really stands out is the impact.  That's what has the power to make people think and feel.  When you're advocating something, or taking issue with it, and are actually trying to persuade people (whether your opponent or audience), adding impacts to what you say is crucial.  Otherwise, you're just talking about ideas, rather than the affect these ideas have on the world.

1. Don't Be Afraid of Bullshit
Earlier, I mentioned that there is plenty of bullshit in the debate community.  Bullshit is everywhere in this world, and can't be escaped.  While the examples of bullshit I mentioned before don't usually come up outside of debate, I don't need to tell you that debates and discussions the world over are full of la caca del toro.

Instead of trying not to encounter bullshit, try to become comfortable around it.  Like anything else, the more you get to understand something inside and out, the more you'll be able to deal with it.  No one can avoid a punch to the face like a boxer.

"But my super secret, too deadly to spar style uses the sacred-" lolno.

When I joined debate, I was very optimistic about how purely educational the activity would be, how every debater would carry themselves with the utmost intellectual and moral integrity.  And there are plenty of coaches and competitors like that.  But, as I said before, there were also those who put winning above everything else, and weren't afraid to bullshit.

At first I was disillusioned with these competitors and hated facing them.  As time went on, however, I grew to value these types of matches.  Most people you debate with in life are going to try to pull some sort of bullshit- and, if we're being honest with ourselves, so are we.  It's inevitable, even with good intentions.

Eventually, calling out the bullshit of these debaters helped me learn to better call out bullshit in general.  This is a skill that can't be underestimated, especially when you need it to stop yourself from being screwed over.  It might be a boss who is full of shit, or a family member, or a salesperson for something you need, or anyone else whom you can't simply avoid.  In those times, being able to (calmly, and with an attention to criteria) call someone out is so, so important.

So don't think you're above bullshit.  You've done it before, I've done it before, everyone does it.  It's as much an inevitable part of life as death and tragic handjobs.  Instead, learn to understand and confront it.  You'll be way better off.

Fiction and Originality

Hey there everyone, sorry for not posting these last couple of weeks.  I recently got a new job, and have also been focusing on getting my collection of short stories published through Amazon's CreateSpace.  Right now I'm editing my manuscript and collaborating with a friend on a cover, so everything is coming along nicely.  Expect that bad boy to drop in a few weeks!

Anywho, one of the most talked about topics in fiction is originality.  You see it not only in conversations about books, but conversations about movies, television, and every other story telling medium, as well.  Many people lament the loss of "originality" in film in particular.  One of the most common criticisms of James Cameron's Avatar, for instance, is that it was just like Pocahontas or Dances with Wolves, but with blue-skinned aliens instead of Native Americans.

 

All the metaphors for Native Americans, without the need to hire any Native American actors!

On the other hand, one of the most popular quotes about creativity is "good artists copy; great artists steal", a line that is made even better by the fact that no one is sure who to attribute it to (most people say either Pablo Picasso or TS Elliot, but no one is sure).  In fact, many people say originality doesn't exist.  So what's the deal?  How can we mourn the loss of originality, but also embrace this loss and make clever little witticisms about it?  What is "originality" in creative works, and fiction in particular, anyway?

Before we tackle the tricky subject of borrowing from other works, let's talk about the base concept of originality first.  There is a lot to unpack here.

It's important to realize that even if you aren't drawing explicitly from fiction or any other type of creative work in your writing, there are certain tropes- that is, story telling devices- that show up in stories you create, and these tropes have all shown up before.  It's not a bad thing, as there are only so many different types of characters, stories, and themes you can create.  I've seen so many starting writers try too hard to be innovative and in the process they either (1)never end up writing anything because that perfect, mind-blowing, game-changing story never comes or (2)create a jumbled mess that is so focused on being different it forgets to add quality story telling.

Humans have been telling stories for a long, long time.  Stories about love, hatred, war, peace, oppression, liberation, courage, cowardice, acceptance- every theme you could ever want.  Stoic characters, loud characters, funny characters, sad characters, brave characters, honest characters, deceitful characters, optimistic characters, cynical characters and more, as well as every permutation of these traits you can think of.  There are too many situations to even name that can happen in these stories- that's why there is an entire online encyclopedia dedicated to these tropes.

Don't click that link if you were hoping to be productive any time in the next couple hours.

This is what people mean when they say you can't be completely original.  Even if everything you write is drawn from a combination of your noggin, your life experiences, and the life experiences of other people in your life, there is almost certainly a number of tropes that fit us and our experiences.  Not in the minute details, but in what they boil down to.

Speaking of "not in the minute details, but in what they boil down to", let's move on to the topic of drawing inspiration from other creative works.  Because there are a lot of examples of great works that are influenced by other works, and those influential works themselves having been influenced by other works.

Let's start with my favorite filmmaker, whom I've written about before: Akira Kurosawa.  Aside from being one of the best filmmakers of all time, he is also one of the most influential.  The Hidden Fortress inspired the original Star Wars trilogy; Yojimbo inspired A Fistful of Dollars; Seven Samurai has influenced so many films, from The Maginificent Seven to A Bug's Life, that it's hard to keep track.

 

Just some little movie trilogy, you may have heard of it.

And yet, even being one of the most talented, innovative, and influential directors ever, Kurosawa had his own influences as well.  The linked article talks about the influences on his work as a filmmaker; in addition to his own life experiences, one of the biggest influences on Kurosawa was Russian literature, especially Dostoyevsky and [Maxim] Gorky.  My favorite movie of all time, Kurosawa's Red Beard, is based on a short story collection by Shūgorō Yamamoto, and also draws from a Dostoyevsky novel for one of the movie's subplots.  So to say he came up with the ideas for his brilliant films by himself would be, at best, disingenuous.

Think of stories as a chain reaction of different influences coming together.  Every story is a mixture of the author's life experiences, the life experiences of people they know or know of, ideas they've studied, fictional works they've seen and enjoyed, other creative works they've experienced and enjoyed (I once wrote a short story inspired by a painting I saw), and other such sources that come together  into whatever work that person creates.  Originality, if such a thing exists, comes in the way you synthesize those pieces together, not in pretending that whatever you make has never been influenced by anything else and is completely unlike everything before it.

And that's where the "not in the minute details, but in what they boil down to" idea comes back into play.  Every story, boiled down to its bare elements, is very basic.  Fight Club, a book and movie I was just talking about with my good friend Morgan, is one of my favorite stories out there.  Many people, myself included, find it very creative and original.  Yet, at it's very core, Fight Club is about a person overcoming a certain part of himself.  In that sense, Fight Club isn't much different than most other fiction.

Can Tyler Durden overcome himself... by working up the courage to ask Marla to the prom?!

Defining what is or isn't plagiarism is a little bit tricky, particularly because the line can be ambiguous.  But this is where the "minute details" come in.  Two stories might share similar characters, themes, and overall stories, but how similar are their character's arcs, the way they explore their themes, and the specific plot points they go through?  Earlier I mentioned Yojimbo/A Fistful of Dollars.  Well, I have have been a bit nice in saying A Fistful of Dollars was "influenced" by Yojimbo, because the movie actually seems to be plagiarized from Kurosawa's film.  Scene by scene, the movies are incredibly similar.  So similar, in fact, that Kurosawa brought a lawsuit against Director Sergio Leone and won.

Interestingly, Leone's defense was that Yojimbo wasn't a completely original work, either.  And he certainly had a point.  Kurosawa himself stated that the 1942 movie The Glass Key was a major influence for the film.  The difference here is that Kurosawa took a lot of tropes/story elements from The Glass Key and made them his own, while Leone took entire scenes from Yojimbo without giving proper credit.

Originality in fiction, to me, comes from the ability to synthesize an original story from existing parts.  Creating fiction is sorta like the act of creating life: you're not doing anything new, but you're creating something unique (also, you're naked, sweaty, and possibly drunk... that's how most other authors also write, right?).  So if you're a writer of any sort, don't feel the need to focus on creating fiction that is unlike any other.  Focus, instead, on creating something worth reading or watching.

Stereotypes and Jokes

I love to laugh, and I love good comedy.  Jim Gaffigan, Chris Rock, and Aziz Ansari are some of my favorite widely known comedians.  I even did standup comedy myself for about a year, performing at various open mics, and even co-hosting a comedy show out of a Jiujitsu gym I trained at.  During that time I met tons of great comics from southern California; some of my favorite were Karl Hess, Billy Bonnell, Rajan Dharni, Christian Spicer, and Zoltan Kaszas.  My good friend David Zafra, whom I had co-hosted the Jiujitsu comedy show with, still performs and is even getting booked shows now.  He's taking the comedy and podcast world by storm with his wild, take-no-prisoners style of wordplay that would have Shakespeare himself saying "damn, that shit was hot!  Now time to go smoke a blunt and write some more dick jokes."

Me doing standup, circa 2012.

 The point is, I'm no stranger to standup comedy.  In fact, I'm quite the fan.  During my time participating in it, I had a lot of fun coming up with new joke concepts and fleshing them out.  I also heard a lot of fantastic jokes of all sorts: some critiquing something about society, some dealing with certain traumatic experiences, some just so wacky and out of left field you couldn't help but laugh.  Then there were the jokes about race, and that's my topic for today.  There's a lot to unpack when talking about race and comedy, especially since there are different ways to do so.

First off, jokes where the punchline is the stereotype.  These are what people, even advocates, appropriately term "racist" jokes.  When you make jokes that draw upon stereotypes, you're perpetuating these stereotypes. You can say it is "ironic" or just in "good fun" or whatever, but you're still bringing those stereotypes to the surface.

Let's take an example of a racist joke I heard recently to look at what I mean. "What's the difference between a Mexican and a bench? A bench can support a family!" Literally, the punchline of that joke is that Mexicans can't support a family. It's feeding into the idea we are all unreliable and living in poverty.  If you didn't know about the stereotype, then this joke could not work.

For instance, we don't have many stereotypes about Bhutanese people here in the United States.  So let's try the same joke: "What's the difference between a Bhutanese person and a bench?  A bench can support a family!"  It's completely nonsensical.  That's what any joke about stereotypes would be if we didn't actually still hold onto those stereotypes as a society.

On a side note, holy shit, look at this picture from Bhutan!

Also, remember that stereotypes have real life consequences.  For instance, the stereotyping of young black folks as criminals means they're more likely to be shot than their white counter parts, more likely to be arrested for drug use despite similar rates between black and white folks, and less likely to receive employment when qualifications are the same.  Stereotypes are not harmless.

Now, if you and your friends just love teasing each other about your backgrounds and only make these jokes around each other, sure, do you and have fun.  But also, try to develop an actual sense of humor?  Because these types of jokes, aside from keeping around stereotypes, are also just structurally bad. Because the meat of your joke is literally "ha, notice that I just said a stereotype?  Pretty clever and ironic, right?" That shit is just weak.

But not all jokes involving stereotypes simply refer to them.  Plenty of comedians bring them up to critique, ridicule, subvert, or otherwise challenge them.  These comedians take these stereotypes on and challenge them.  For instance, check out this quick Dave Chappelle joke about chicken:

 
In it, he talks about an experience of his as a black man visiting the south. He then explores and mocks the stereotype about black folks liking chicken; "all these years I thought I liked chicken because it was delicious, turns out I'm genetically predisposed to liking chicken! I got no say in the matter! That guy ruined chicken for me, I was scared to eat it in public."

Notice how he deconstructs and attacks the stereotype. The punchline isn't "black folks sure do like chicken!" but "man, isn't that stereotype about black folks liking chicken ridiculous?" And that's what comedy has the power to be: subversive and challenging to prevailing ideas. Even outside the topic of race, it can be used to critique society and be a powerful tool for critical thought.

The thing is, when you make a racist joke where the punchline is a stereotype, you're doing exactly the opposite. You're just keeping stereotypes in people's minds without being critical about them, and that's where the difference lies.  A lot of people say "well, if you're criticizing racist jokes, then how about guys like Chappelle and Rock?"  It's a misunderstanding, because they are tackling the subject matter in very different ways.  Talking about your experiences involving stereotypes and deconstructing them is quite different from simply referring to those stereotypes and calling it a joke.

One thing that is important to keep in mind is that anyone can make jokes lazily relying on stereotypes.  Carlos Mencia's entire shtick is based on constantly repeating the punchline that lots of Mexican Americans are here without papers.  No one gets a pass when they are making shitty jokes.

Now, of course there are plenty of shades of gray when talking about jokes that subvert stereotypes vs feeding into them.  I've heard a lot jokes that I couldn't neatly place into one category.  What's important is that we at least try to analyze and think critically about them.

Especially when it's a super edgy joke about ketchup.

Damn him and his reckless comedy!

Self-Defense for Women

How awful is it that I even have to make this post?  Unfortunately, we live in a society that teaches young men that they are entitled to women's bodies.  Ever since childhood we are shown and told stories of men saving the day and essentially winning their love interest, even if that love interest previously didn't have any interest in them.  In every day life,"nice guys" think that if they act pleasant toward a woman then they somehow deserve her, as if a woman is a prize to be won at an arcade in exchange for politeness points.

 

Redeemable for 20 chivalry coupons!

Beyond that, men are often encouraged to not respect when a woman says no, or to try to push the boundaries of what she is comfortable with, in order to score and prove how "manly" we are. It's an unjust situation.  If we lived in an ideal world, this post wouldn't be necessary.  Alas, we don't, and this is where we find ourselves.

The main focus of this post will be two-fold: critiquing so-called "self-defense" oriented programs and recommending better alternatives for training.

The main problem with most self-defense focused programs/styles is that they offer very little "aliveness" in their training- in other words, they don't have opportunities to go against an opponent who is actively resisting.  Instead, they usually only do choreographed drills that involve your opponent compliantly letting you do to them whatever you're being taught.  Static drills are an important part of any training regimen, but they can't be the only part.

The excuse you'll hear from these "reality based" styles is that their moves are "too deadly" to train with aliveness. And certainly, there are indeed highly effective moves you don't want to perform on your training partners for risk of severe injury.  But here's the thing: if you're not supplementing your training with aliveness, everything you learn will fly out the window the instant someone in real life actually tries to attack you.  If you're not used to someone trying to fight back when performing your moves, you will have no idea how to deal with an opponent who isn't being compliant.

Basically, if your training has no aliveness, this is what you're doing- which is all good,
but let's call it what it is.

And that's what most self-proclaimed "self-defense" styles do.  Compliant drill, after compliant drill, after compliant drill.  It's like becoming really good at playing catch and thinking that alone can make you a quarterback in the NFL, when in reality you need to practice throwing the ball while dealing with people trying to tackle you to the ground.

Instead, train in a style that offers aliveness.  The ultimate form of aliveness is sparring (or its equivalent in other styles such as randori in Judo, rolling in Jiujitsu, kumite in Karate, etc): a simulated match where each participant is trying to win.  There are other forms of aliveness, too, such as drills where your opponent offers increasing levels of resistance when you try to apply techniques on them.

Now, because you're training in a style with aliveness, your training won't focus on "deadly" moves.  But it's much better to be able to perform well-trained normal moves under pressure than to have "deadly" moves that you can't use on anyone willing to fight back.

To bring this back to women in particular, I'd recommend a good grappling style to train in.  Most violence against women outside of domestic abuse doesn't involve a man hitting a woman, but trying to force himself on her.  That is what a good grappling style will prepare you for- also, size also tends to matter less in grappling arts than in striking arts.  I'd recommend Judo, Jiujitsu, Sambo, or even good ol' Wrestling as consistently reliable styles.

A grappling match between a man and a woman where the woman wins by submission.

Check out that video up there (the advertisements end at about 20 seconds in).  Even when the guy gets the dominant top position and is trying to go for the finish, she is able to keep her cool, fight off of her back, and go for the finish herself.  That's what training with aliveness does.

Now, I do have to warn anyone reading this and considering training, it is not easy.  I honestly think part of the reason people train in less effective arts without aliveness in the curriculum is they know how hard it is  to train effectively.  In my post about martial arts and violence, I talked about all the setbacks and small victories that define training.  It sounds noble and almost romantic in writing, but in the gym it can sometimes be frustrating and discouraging.

However, the results are more than worth it.  That grappling match I posted was from an actual competition; in other words, that guy was actively trying to beat her and still lost.  Very, very, very few non-trained men could ever smother an experienced grappler, regardless of their sex.  When I first started training Jiujitsu, women that probably don't even have weight in the triple digits were able to submit me easily.  Even with my training, a high level grappler half my size can still wipe the floor with me.

For those of you reading who don't know me in real life: I am 6 feet tall, just shy of 200 pounds, and do strength training a couple times a week.  I am not exactly a small guy.  But if I were trying to win a match in Jiujitsu, I'd much rather take on a 250 pound man without training than a 120 pound purple belt.

We shouldn't have to live in a world where women are put in charge of defending themselves from sexual assault and other forms of violence.  Thanks to the objectification of women, however, we do.  To all the ladies out there, please, don't be taken in by talk of super deadly, super awesome, super quick self-defense classes.  It's a scam.  Instead, take a class where you are being pushed to your limit and put up against people in an alive training environment.  It'll be difficult, but if you are ever forced to put your training to the test, you need to be able to make it out okay.

Fantasy Worlds and Believability

As I've mentioned before on this blog, I write fiction in addition to blog posts.  Some of the settings I write are "realistic" in the sense that everything operates in the same way that everyday life does in the real world.  There are no mystical elements involved in these stories.  Others involve crafting new worlds, worlds with their own internal logic and creatures that inhabit it.

When discussing works of fiction that take place in worlds more fantastic than our own, criticism of certain plot points someone finds nonsensical is often met with the response "of course it doesn't make sense, it's a movie/video game/TV show/etc."  This post will be about unpacking that statement; I think it is mostly a cop out, but there is also some truth to it.

As I alluded to in the first paragraph, creating worlds different from our own involve creating a new set of rules.  No matter what type of world you're creating- a fantasy land of magic and mythic creatures, a science fiction space adventure, an alternative universe where United States foreign policy actually gives a shit about democracy- a fictional universe needs its own set of governing rules that dictate how everything operates.  Let's take Fullmetal Alchemist, an easy example.

A universe where perfectly coiffed hair curls can withstand anything.

In Fullmetal Alchemist, the show emphasizes the principle of "equivalent exchange"- the idea that in order to obtain anything, something of equal value must be given in turn.  In other words, alchemists can transform and modify objects in that world, but they can't simply make something out of nothing.  When you see Edward make his staff, he's transforming the materials in the ground into his signature weapon.

If someone in that show were suddenly able to make objects materialize out of nothing, then you'd want an explanation for how that happened.  Yes, alchemy is basically magic and defies our laws of physics, but the world of Fullmetal Alchemist still has its own set of rules that it is expected to follow.  Hell, if someone were to suddenly bust out an iPad when the technology of that world is about equivalent to the technology of the early 20th Century, you'd want an explanation.

And that is where the "it's a _____, of course it's not realistic!" idea falls apart.  Yes, we shouldn't hold our entertainment to our own laws of reality.  But fictional works need to hold up to their laws of reality, otherwise that is inconsistent writing, even if other elements of the story are awesome.

A big example of this sort of inconsistency from a work I like (I prefer to pick apart works I like so that it's more analysis than complaint) is from The Walking Dead.  As this article tells us, one of the main rules about zombies is that their eyesight is poor and their sense of smell is strong.  We see that confirmed when Rick decides to cover himself and his pals in zombie remains to walk through the streets... but then we see it broken later when they avoid zombies by hiding under cars.

Then Daryl does something badass and all is forgiven.

A common response to this criticism is that the walkers spot the humans first, and then they use the ol' sniffers to track out whether they are human or not.  But that goes against the rule mentioned above, which specifically says their eyesight is "poor" but they have a "strong" sense of smell.  That would mean that their smelling ability is stronger than their sight (unless the meaning of those words have changed recently), and therefore the hiding trick they used shouldn't have worked.  It's a vague, inconsistent trait that helps kill the believability of their world- again, not because it is "unrealistic" by our terms, but by the terms the show sets up for itself.

These inconsistencies can make us feel less like we're watching something unfold in a different world and more like we're watching something unfold in a clearly fictional one.  Now, different inconsistencies bother people to different degrees, and what some people consider plot holes others don't.  For instance, I find a lot of the so-called plot inconsistencies everyone usually brings up about The Dark Knight Rises to be unfounded, and a lot of the actual inconsistencies didn't bother me much.

"No one noticed Bruce Wayne in the European cafe!"  Oh, right, because a billionaire who is well known in his own town will definitely be globally recognized.  Just like how you would totally recognize the CEO of Walmart or Target if they walked by you right now!

So, yes, some things take some people out of the movies, while those same things don't take others out.  Some aren't taken out of the experience because they don't think the inconsistency is a big deal, while others don't think it's an inconsistency at all.  That's fine, because we all interact with fictional worlds in our own ways.

The main problem with saying "it's a [comic book/fantasy/sci fi/etc] [movie/game/TV show/etc], don't think about it" is that it's dismissing the fact that these types of works have the ability to be immersive and take people to a different world.  A well crafted world with consistency is a fantastic thing.  When you say "don't think about it" you're encouraging people to not immerse themselves, to not critically engage with what they enjoy.

Now, that all being said, not everything needs an explicit explanation.  A movie that comes to mind is the movie Midnight in Paris from a few years back.

They never once explain how Owen Wilson keeps finding work!

In the movie, Owen Wilson is a writer who is visiting Paris with his fiance.  He loves it there, particularly because it was the home of many ex-patriot US writers during the modernist era of the 1920s.  One night, while on a walk, he ends up transported to 1920s-era Paris and gets to meet Ernest Hemingway, F Scott Fitzgerald, Zelda Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein, Salvador Dali, and others from that time period.  There is never an explanation given as to why Wilson (and, later, someone sent to track him) are able to travel back in time.

The thing is, the movie is still establishing a set of rules.  The movie shows us early on that time travel is possible in that universe, but everything else about it is realistic.  No one shows up with a light saber, or mind reading abilities, or a positive opinion of any M Night Shyamalan movies.  That is a universe that permits time travel in certain vehicles to the past, and the movie never adds extra fastballs into the mix.

So an explanation isn't always necessary.  In the original Star Wars trilogy, they established how the force functioned as a power, but not what it actually was "scientifically" speaking.  Everyone loved the movies, and then the prequels came up with a sci-fi explanation as to what the force was.  It wasn't a bad explanation, but it wasn't an answer people were clamoring for to make further sense of the universe.

So, in the end, what is arguably most important is establishing a clear set of rules that the works within that universe follow consistently.  Analyzing and picking apart fiction can be fun, and certainly helpful to anyone trying to create their own.  Critiquing and contemplating entertainment can help give us a deeper understanding of it- or at least that's what I tell myself to justify all the time I spend over-analyzing pop culture.