Combat Is A Narrative Tool, Not A Destination
Flashy fight scenes and intricate duels are worthless on their own
As a young man in the modern world, I’ve consumed a wide variety of entertainment media: video games, television shows, documentaries, video games, music, anime, and many, many novels. While I’ve explored many genres (some shallowly, I must admit), I always come back to fantasy, fiction, and tragedy — often in combination. Regardless of the type of driving conflict, there always seems to be room for at least one fight scene.
Every good story has a dragon needing to be slain, and a knight to slay it. Right?
That statement, metaphorical or literal, is as reductive as it is true. If the purpose of the story, the climax and conclusion of the plot, is merely to “slay the dragon”, then you get the soullessly entertaining qualities of the Michael Bay Transformers films. From a viewer’s perspective, those films set out with a dual purpose: demonstrate the power of modern CGI technology, and show giant robots beating the tar out of each other.
Full disclaimer: I had a blast with these films. As a teenage boy, watching giant robots rip each other apart filled me with the same boyish glee as setting off Independency Day fireworks. Whether that makes the films “good” entirely depends on your personal definition.
As we know, there wasn’t exactly a lot of depth or nuance to those films (though newer adaptations of the beloved IP are doing better). There wasn’t much emotional weight to them, and therefore not much catharsis. In those films, the combat was the narrative destination — the purpose of the film was the fighting. That is why they failed to maintain their cultural relevance for years after their completion.
So what’s the point of a fight scene? Are they just testosterone syringes forced into stories to make them more interesting?
Obviously not; we know this instinctively. If I were to ask you what your most memorable fight scenes are — from any medium—I’m certain that you’d be able to name at least a few of them off of the top of your head. That alone is proof that combat in a story can be compelling and memorable, on top of being exciting. So what makes the difference?
The best fight scenes in any medium are supported by deeper meaning, conflict, or emotional catharsis. Indeed, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to say that some of the most beloved and memorable fight scenes set the actual combat as a backdrop to something more narratively significant.
Now, don’t mistake “narratively significant” for “always serious and gritty”, because that would be untrue — though it is often the case. One of my examples later on will prove this point; one of the best duels in cinema is considered such for a reason (there’s your clue, you only get one).
I’m going to discuss two excellent fight scenes. What they are, the context around them (if needed), and what makes them memorable. Let’s get started.
The Last Agni Kai (Avatar: The Last Airbender)
If we’re going to talk about cultural relevance, we are inevitably going to discuss Avatar: The Last Airbender. The beloved and highly-praised show’s return to Netflix this year sparked a renaissance for its narrative and animated excellence. This children’s show made waves with its compelling and nuanced character writing, beautiful animation quality, and exemplary themes throughout its three-season (61 episode) runtime.
I’m going to assume you haven’t been living under a rock and are vaguely aware of the general plot of the show, so let’s focus on the fight.
The Last Agni Kai is a firebending duel between Prince Zuko and Princess Azula — two siblings from the same abusive royal family, who had very different journeys over the course of the show. It takes place at the same time as Aang, the protagonist, is fighting the final boss of the show — but many fans consider this fight to be the true emotional climax of the narrative. Why?
There are several reasons for this, and I’m going to break it down into character development and animation/choreography.
Character Development
Let’s start with the most important first. Prince Zuko spent two-thirds of the show as an antagonist to Aang before witnessing the consequences of his actions, the actions of his family, and the actions of his home nation. This battle represents both Zuko’s commitment to his changed loyalty, and his dedication to doing the right thing — even if it means potentially killing his sister. He’s fighting not for himself and his honor, but for the world as a whole; he’s moved beyond himself.
In comparison, his once-refined and poised sister Azula stands across the courtyard from him, disheveled and rambling. She has fallen into a pit of narcissistic insanity that comes from an unloved existence. Zuko’s presence is an affront to her hard-earned power and prestige (hollow as it is), and she responds with unhinged violence. She has become so consumed by her own wants and twisted perceptions that she’s devolved completely.
This stark contrast between the development of these two characters changes the tension of the scene. This battle is no longer a righteous duel of good versus evil; it’s a necessary act to put down a rabid dog. This battle is both the culmination of Zuko’s character arc in the sense that he finally defeats his previously undefeated sister, but a tragic ending to any chance of salvation or redemption for Azula. This battle has emotional weight and catharsis because we see a character we’re deeply familiar with, and have grown to love, finally overcome the last of his demons.
But we also see a broken shell of a girl, and we’re left with the question of “what could have been?” hanging in the air as Azula is chained to a grate, screaming fire and sobbing — with nobody there to comfort her. The Last Agni Kai underscores a character’s developmental triumph with another’s tragic doom.
Animation and Choreography
The animation and subtle fight choreography play a massive role in deepening the character development of these two characters throughout the fight. It has to; this fight scene has almost no spoken dialogue once it starts. The choreography of the Last Agni Kai does highlights the development of Zuko’s character and the development of Azula’s character.
In the beginning of the show, Zuko and Azula have distinct styles of firebending: Zuko is aggressive and proactive in combat, where Azula is patient and calculating. At this point in the story, Zuko is constantly warring with feelings of shame and inferiority as a result of his exile and repeated failures. This naturally results in anger and rage, which influences his fighting style.
By contrast, Azula is assured of her own power and personal perfection. She’s a manipulator and calculated sadist, and lets her foes tire themselves out before defeating them — usually in some humiliating manner. She can be proactive, but only when it’s the best course of action for her.
This is visible in how they’re animated: Zuko is always moving forward, always in pursuit, always the aggressor. Azula is the opposite: lying in wait, like a spider in its web, ready to strike at the best opportunity.
That all changes leading up to the Last Agni Kai.
As you can see in the GIF to the left, Zuko (orange fire) is playing defensively, where Azula (blue flame) is aggressive and relentless. Zuko is calm and focused — his footing is stable and immovable. Azula is rocketing around the arena, screaming like a banshee without any plan of action. This choreography is consistent throughout the fight, demonstrating the complete swap of the two’s fighting styles — mirroring the changes in the characters’ self-confidence, perception of self-worth, and mental stability. It’s a nuanced part of the fight that I don’t see many people discussing.
Another piece of subtlety is in the animation of the fire itself. If you look closely, you can see that Zuko’s firebending is coming out in short, controlled, purposeful bursts — he’s not wasting any energy on excess fire. His flames come out quickly and fade as soon as their job is done. Azula’s flames are the opposite: bombastic, lingering blue fires that explode around Zuko’s defenses. Her flames are larger, but so much of them are sailing off into the ether in a pointless waste of energy. The animators worked Azula’s instability into the animation of her very flames. This is the kind of beautiful and delightful attention to detail that the series is known for — I wish more shows had this level of excellence.
The Last Agni Kai is a somber fight scene that is significant because of the characters inside of it. Without the stories of Zuko and Azula behind it, this turns into a merely well-animated fight scene between two fire mages. This fight scene is used as a narrative tool to illustrate the conclusion of these two characters’ journeys, and that’s what makes it so impactful.
Inigo Montoya vs. The Dread Pirate Roberts (The Princess Bride)
If you didn’t guess this scene’s appearance in this article, I’m disappointed in you. I even gave you a hint!
While there are other amazing sword fights/duels in film history (the brutal realism of the final duel of Rob Roy and the choreographic spectacle of the Duel of the Fates in Star Wars: The Phantom Menace come to mind), none have the charm, quotability and sense of genuine fun that this one does. The Princess Bride is a movie that has been culturally relevant in some form since its release, in large part due to its unique blend of humor, fairytale charm, and memorable characters.
This scene exemplifies all of those things. Pairing clever (and gleefully unrealistic) swordplay with the back-and-forth between two men of rapier wit created an instant classic. When you add on character development and illustration, it gets even better.
We learn a few things about the characters over the course of this duel. Inigo Montoya is an honorable and intelligent man on a quest for revenge. You learn this before the fight even starts — as the man in black climbs the rope, Inigo comments on how easy it would be to cut the rope and win without a fair fight. Yet he not only allows the masked man up on the cliff, Inigo let’s him catch his breath first. This shows us that Inigo is a man of integrity — an inherently good man, despite circumstances.
“You seem a decent fellow. I hate to kill you.” — Inigo Montoya
The man in black is the Dread Pirate Roberts. Leading up to the fight, we are shown his physical strength on the cliffside, and his mental fortitude in the face of a certainly-doomed situation. We know little about him at this point in the story, but his dialogue and bearing make it clear that this rougish man is no brutal pirate. Once he catches his breath, the fight begins.
“You seem a decent fellow. I hate to die.” — Dread Pirate Roberts
Each swipe and thrust of the blade is paired with witty repartee, the two duelists dancing over stone as easily as they dance with words. The two discuss various fencing techniques candidly, complimenting each others swordplay as they strive to kill eachother. The fight moves both physically about the arena and emotionally with tension, with two main shifts: where Inigo reveals that he is not left-handed, and where the Dread Pirate Roberts responds with “I am not left-handed either” — accompanied by a fanciful trio of trumpet blasts to highlight the absurdity of it all.
The man in black then goes on to beat Inigo, knocking him out instead of killing him because “[he] would sooner destroy a stained-glass window than an artist such as [Inigo],” revealing himself to also be a man of honor. As the audience, we are clued in to an eventual reunion between these two characters, and are excited to see it happen.
This scene pairs wildly entertaining fight choreography and infinitely quotable dialogue to craft one of the most beloved fight scenes in cinema — which also serves as the first major point of character introduction for both of these characters. It has a little bit of everything, and a heaping pile of charm. It’s always going to be a favorite, and I dread the day someone tries to remake it.
Final Thoughts
There are hundreds of examples of good fight scenes that are narratively significant and compelling. From anime like Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood, to fantasy novels like Brandon Sanderson’s Mistborn series, to video game fights like Cloud vs. Sephiroth in Final Fantasy 7, good fight scenes are used as tools of the narrative — not the destination. I could spend another two hours talking about good scenes (Tony Stark vs. Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes from Captain America: Civil War comes to mind), but I want to respect your time.
The best fight scenes are the ones that move the narrative, highlight a character’s growth, or exemplify the core themes of the story as a whole. The fights with emotional depth and/or intellectual sophistication are the ones we remember — not the adolescent demolition-porn of the Michael Bay Transformers movies.
I hope this article was fun and interesting for you. What are some of your favorite scenes from books, movies, games, shows, etc? I’d love to hear from you below. Thanks!
