The repetition is annoying for most readers, and it’s common for an exciting journey through Torah study to grind to a halt here. The minute details in the instructions and subsequent execution of the instructions sounds is like a process doc for building a portable nuclear reactor. And based on how the ark functioned, that’s probably an accurate description.
This OCD-level of detail should be expected from any priestly portions of holy texts because these are the sections where the author(s) can demonstrate that they not only took the critical instructions seriously, but actually executed those instructions exactly. The modern equivalent would look like a set of CAD designs and process instructions for the nuclear reactor, followed by a detailed checklist of how each instruction was carefully heeded, maybe with an accompanying signature from a foreman signing off on every step.
An uncontrollable crisis such as famine, infertility, and violent contagion – in other words, total annihilation – is just around the corner in the ancient mind, and priestly matters deal with the control centers of the crises. Before the Semitic alef-bet, these matters were either passed down verbally and suffered decay from a game of telephone, or they were written in a indecipherable languages like Tangut that could only be read by officials. The point wasn’t to democratize the priestly process, but to just write it down so that the priests (or bureaucrats) had a process to follow to avoid certain destruction.
I’ve used the blood-ritual spectrum to demonstrate that combat rituals allow the contestants to balance the blood debt. On one end of the spectrum is the blood feud, which gets the job done fast with a high risk of violent contagion. At the other end is the choreographed war dance, which is a slow burn but with almost no risk of violent contagion.
That article was primarily concerned with the participants in combat ritual. Participation in ritual has one clear benefit aside from balancing the blood debt: it was a release valve for built-up, violent intents, which if bottled up could easily explode in violent contagion.
This article covers an element that all combat rituals have in common: spectators. Spectators weren’t just there for their own entertainment, and they weren’t just ticket sales for the promoters. Spectators form an integral part of the combat ritual equation: their presence is also critical to keeping violent contagion in check.
The Violent Spectators
We can simulate this scenario in a few ways. Let’s go back in time and imagine a peaceful tribe on one side of a large canyon. On the other side is a gang of cannibals. The gap prevents the cannibals from invading the peaceful tribe. For the sake of argument, the peaceful tribe can’t escape. So once the cannibals build a bridge, they’ll enjoy the human buffet waiting on the other side.
The peaceful tribe watches the cannibal gang sharpen their teeth and hone their axes all day. Their peaceful mirror neurons are slowly inundated with the cannibals’ intentions to eat them. Cannibalistic notions will begin invading their once-peaceful thoughts. One goes crazy and stabs his brother with a sharp stick. A cousin takes revenge for the stabbing. A small feud erupts. At this rate, the peaceful tribe will kill itself off before the cannibals can even finish the bridge. What can they do?
The peaceful tribe, like any society, still has to balance its blood debt. It does this while weighing the risks of violent contagion. As mentioned previously, blood feuds don’t mix well with neighbors. In an open system like this, the stress of an impending cannibal invasion is too much kindling for the fire.
Before we propose a solution, we need to understand the mechanics of what’s happening in the peaceful tribe members’ mirror neuron systems. We can use the modern example of Office Space. Peter is an office worker. His overbearing boss Lumbergh and annoying coworkers get on his nerves. They bombard his mirror neuron systems with malicious intentions. Peter is constantly inundated by his job, just like the peaceful tribe is inundated by the cannibals.
If this were medieval Iceland, Peter could kill Lumbergh and rule Initech. If it were the Old West, he could challenge Lumbergh to a gun duel, or maybe a fist fight. Even a quick Jujitsu match could settle things quickly. But the corporate world of post-1994 doesn’t allow for these modes of resolution.
Fight Club posits an interesting resolution for inundation – get together on Friday nights and do fist fights (level 3 on the blood-ritual spectrum). Corporate boxing gyms are all over America for this reason. The physical release of the intent loads can clear the air for office workers and allow them to keep working. If boxing isn’t an option, they can run, lift weights, or do something physical that, at least partially, targets these problematic intent loads.
But let’s say Peter didn’t do anything, or he can’t do anything. Or he didn’t have time. What happens to all the intents that he loads into his brain? His relationship is on the brink, and he’s miserable. He might snap and stab someone. We have the same situation as our cannibal invasion: intents are loaded, they’re boiling over, and our subjects can’t physically do anything. Peter goes to a hypnotist, but that’s movie logic and won’t work for us. We need a resolution to the problem of inundation without action.
Inundation – Intents Kept In a (Volatile) Potential State
In Mirrors in the Brain Rizzolatti theorized that when we observe an object that requires some kind of action, such as a coffee cup, the PMVr (or “F5”) region of our brain builds a simulation of the action. This is stored as a potential motor action. The simulation helps us to process exactly how to pick up the coffee cup, which then allows us to act. Intents are loaded and then released by action.
Once we have discovered how to conjugate the different kinds of motor acts with specific visual aspects relative to objects, which therefore become object affordances, our motor system will be able to perform all the transformations necessary to carry out any act, including that of picking up our cup of coffee.
… Many objects, including our coffee cup, have more than one affordance. It follows that when we see these objects, more than one set of neural AIP populations will be triggered, each of which will code a specific affordance. It is likely that these action proposals will be sent to F5, sparking off what can be defined as potential motor acts. Now, the choice of how to act will not depend only on the intrinsic properties of the object in question (its shape, size, and orientation), but also on what we intent to do with it, on its functions, etc. Going back to our coffee cup once more, we will grasp it in different ways depending on whether we are picking it up to drink from it, to rinse it, or simply to move it from one place to another. Moreover, our grip on the cup varies according to the circumstances, whether we are afraid of burning our fingers, or the cup is surrounded by other objects; it will also be influenced by our customs, habits, and our inclination to adhere to certain social rules and so on.
Rizzolatti, Mirrors In The Brain, (pp. 35-36)
When we do not act on the potential motor act, the intention is retained in a potential stage.
When an act is performed, the discharge of the neuron represents the activation of a motor command, such as ‘pick this up with a precision grip’, but what happens when there is no action involved, just observation? If the neuron also discharges in the same way in this condition, this discharge should convey an identical message to that sent when the animal moves, but which instead of determining an overt action, remains at the potential stage. This happens automatically whenever the monkey looks at a given type of object. … [W]e are interested here in the functions to be ascribed to the vocabulary of motor acts even when there is no explicit intention to act.
Rizzolatti, Mirrors In The Brain, pp. 47-48
Interestingly, children with Autism Spectrum Disorder can’t seem to ignore the inundation of objects and will constantly act on these stored intentions. Studying Autism as it relates to the mirror neuron system might reveal some interesting clues. This will be covered in a later article.
This same function of storing potential motor action helps us comprehend the intentions of others performing an action. The potential motor action builds a simulation within our own brains of what the other person is trying to do.
The ‘act on the spectator’s part’ is a potential motor act, determined by the activation of the mirror neurons that code sensory information in motor terms thus enabling the ‘reciprocity’ of acts and intentions that is at the root of our ability to immediately understand what we see others doing. … As soon as we see someone doing something, either a single act or a chain of acts, his movements take on immediate meaning for us, whether he likes it or not [and whether we like it or not]. … The mirror neuron system and the selectivity of the responses of the neurons that compose it, produce a shared space of action, within which each act and chain of acts, whether ours or ‘theirs’, are immediately registered and understood without the need of any explicit or deliberate ‘cognitive operation’.
Rizzolatti, Mirrors In The Brain, p. 131
These potential intents, if not acted upon, are what cause us to be “bogged down” or inundated. Inundation is a huge load on our mirror neuron systems, begging us to do something. Of course, doing something about them would get us fired. We can’t all be gangstas.
The Cathartic War Dance
Back at the impending cannibal holocaust, our peaceful tribe needs to resolve the inundation from their cannibal neighbors, without sparking violent contagion within the tribe. A chieftain comes forward, who understands the whole situation. Understanding the situation requires decoding the simulation going on in the mirror neurons of his tribe. In our case, the intent load looks something like this:
Cannibals want to eat us
We can’t stop them
Feuds are erupting from our inundation
The chieftain then makes a blueprint of a counter-simulation which, in the minds of the peaceful tribespeople, could resolve the threat of the cannibal holocaust. This data would be:
Our tribe unites
We use weapons to beat the cannibals
Peace is restored
The chieftain gathers some of his warriors. They’re a little out of shape, so he paints some six-packs on them and makes them look hard. He choreographs a dance with them, a simulation of a defense against a cannibal holocaust. He integrates some aspects specific to their tribe like the red color of the soil and some local bird quills. The chieftain consults with the priests, integrating lore and storytelling into the routine.
The chieftain gathers the tribe together and presents The War Dance. The people are enchanted as their warriors battle and tell stories. At the end is an animal sacrifice, which brings a symbolic peace on the whole assembly. The war dance rallies the troops against the inevitable cannibal attack, but it also serves to calm down the audience. It clarifies the “we” against “them cannibals”.
Like the war dance, in any story we are introduced to the main character of the drama, whom we relate to in some way. Typical stories have a “save the cat” moment where our mirror neuron systems can click with the protagonist. His desires become our desires, his enemies our enemies, his struggle our struggle, and his catharsis our catharsis. His entire drama is simulated within our mirror neuron system, which becomes our internal reality for the length of the drama. If our intent load doesn’t click with his, we can’t sync up with his story, so we’ll pick a different drama. Netflix has 160 TV shows as of writing this post, so people have no shortage of dramatic options to choose from. Corporate bosses like Lumbergh might connect with a show about a politician, a laborer will connect with a show about a coal-miner in post-Edwardian England, etc.
No matter what intents we’re loaded with throughout the day, there is a drama out there, a war dance, that we can sync with. Our protagonist will vanquish the villain, offloading her intents through the resolution of, say, a final sword fight. This has the effect of unhitching the same intents that we’ve been inundated with up until that point. The death of the villain simulates the intent offloading, and we’re suddenly freed from the inundation.
(Sidenote: This is the same method used in possession and exorcism rituals. I’ll write more in depth on this subject in a later post. But essentially, the shaman/Netflix syncs with our MNS and uses various sacred objects/imagery to help us expel foreign intent loads. The more we study our ancestors, the more we realize that we haven’t changed.)
The removal of these loaded intents gives new meaning to the Greek word catharsis. The “purification”, “cleansing”, and “clarification” of catharsis makes a lot more sense now. Netflix and the war dance have this very cathartic effect on the spectator: the shedding of unwanted intent loads so that we don’t kill each other.
The Formal Era of the War Dance
Going back to our impending cannibal holocaust, the cathartic war dance (or any media that we watch for its cleansing properties, and not for research) keeps the peaceful tribe from killing itself off. It’s on the cleanest end of the Blood-Ritual Spectrum, where violence is codified and not actually violent toward anybody, so we could call this period a formal era. The goal is to keep violent contagion to an absolute minimum.
Formal eras don’t necessarily require an impending, external crisis. If we look at war dances like the WWE, Wushu, and Pakistani Kabbadi, these aren’t due to the threat of invading cannibals. However, highly coded forms of combat always stem from a strict taboo against violence, whose roots might be in the distant past. China’s reverence for traditional martial arts comes from millennia of peasant revolts and military conquest, which come with a host of coded taboos (even taboos against violence while eating). These traditional institutions bear the mark of history and are worth preserving for their weapons alone.
In the case of our peaceful tribe, formal violence is actually quite an accomplishment. Putting boundary lines around choreographed combat requires a long continuity of cultural signs, which is only possible if the tribe has escaped destruction from within and without.
But what happens when we do descend into a crisis?
When Cannibals Attack, We Eat Them – Plummeting to the Crisis Era
The tribe was too distracted watching the war dance and the cannibals built their bridge and attacked. The tribe attempts to fight, but their rusty weapons fail them, and they’re not in fighting shape. They take massive casualties. The cannibals finally devour the chieftain and secure their dominance. The tribe are caged and will be eaten over time, not necessarily for food, but more as a flex. Plus, that old fickle sun god seems to like it when they eat people.
The peaceful tribe’s collective mirror neurons have been inundated for months, maybe years, by the cannibals. They never acted on these loaded intentions to preemptively strike and stave off the attack, so now they’re lunch. We can look to history to see how dire the situation is for our peaceful tribe.
So now, perhaps without thinking, and with no other options, a handful of the peaceful tribe members gang up on the prison guard and eat him in front of some other cannibals. They begin to act like cannibals themselves, going on a rampage against the invaders. The once-peaceful tribe totally lets loose in the interest of self-preservation. Some of them even seem to enjoy this moment of animal-like brutality. The cannibals are then vanquished. They cross the bridge and murder all the cannibals’ family members too, just to be sure they don’t come back in a generation to settle the blood debt.
The tribe has rid themselves of the cannibals, but they have a new problem: now they’re cannibals. The dividing line between the animalistic cannibals and the high-minded tribe has been totally erased. The hero has become the villain, the villain the hero. There’s no right or wrong. This “undifferentiation” is the crisis, when critical differences and categories are lost. In this case, the difference between “human life” and “food” has vaporized.
In the wake of the crisis, the tribal mirror neuron network just looks like a bunch of cannibals. The network says, “Eating humans brings peace.” They’ve officially gone there. “Cannibalism” is now associated with “peace and victory” in the mirror neuron network! Uh oh! They want to go back to what were before, but whenever a threat crops up, they go to ritual cannibalism. It keeps the peace, but things aren’t the same anymore.
The elders come together and realize, in the interest of self-preservation, that they can’t just keep eating people. There at least has to be a sunset on cannibalism, because nobody wants to be the cannibal tribe. It’s not good for trade and it scares the kids. Worst of all, cannibalism is very bloody on the Blood-Ritual Spectrum, causing more than its fair share of contagious violence. (Food for thought: maybe the cannibal invaders were just trying to shake off their cannibalistic practices!)
The elders come up with a plan to de-cannibalize. They restrict cannibalism to prisoners only, then to only dead people, and then only domesticated animals that they pretend are people. Modern Latin American sacrifice calls for a chicken, which the priestess gently rocks like a baby. Then she cuts its throat. Sacrificial substitution gets the tribe out of the crisis situation and into an structure governed by a higher ethic.
If no plan is given, de-cannibalization might happen naturally. Eating a human in a dispute causes far too much revenge and anger. Disputes will have to be settled in cleaner ways (again, we can reference the blood-ritual spectrum). Disputes will become regulated by the elders, who will place strict boundaries around the contestants, which moves the tribe out of the crisis era and into the lawful era.
Lawful Era – The Market of Combat
The lawful era is when our new combat rituals emerge, which as we saw in the blood-ritual spectrum serve to settle blood debts among participants. New chieftains will emerge to help inaugurate these combat rituals. They will provide adequate cathartic release for the spectators, integrating various familiar cultural symbols, turning them into events that can draw many spectators.
It’s impossible to arbitrary dictate which type of combat to institute. Ethnic factors, inter-tribal relations, and geography are just a few of the many variables that will cause the right kind of combat to emerge in the lawful era. Take America, for example. The blood feud (1 on the spectrum) came with the territory, as did the duel (2) and the bare-knuckle fight (3). We see the pro wrestling match (war dance – 8) at early carnivals. Gloved boxing (5) was the sport of choice starting in 1892, and around the same time the bare-knuckle fight (3) and the duel to the death (2) were phased out. Much later in the 60s came competitive Karate (free fighting – 4, though arguably much cleaner than its later UFC counterpart) and only recently did we see the emergence of the Bare-Knuckle Fighting League (back to 3 again).
In a lawful era, the emergence of combat forms will be all over the place. Sometimes a ritual combat will displace others, and at other times both can exist side-by-side. Today, most developed countries have everything from free fighting to war dances (4-8), and many warrior societies still have bare knuckle fight rituals (3). Duels are mostly gone, and blood feuds are mostly gone too.
The lawful era is inherently stable. Rules and regulations are the basis of combat. Contagion is limited by emerging combat markets which balance participant payment with the demand for event tickets. Combat rituals which become outlawed might be commemorated in nostalgic media (Westerns, Chambara) or regulated as cultural treasures if they fail in the market. Lawful societies are generally able to balance the blood debt, avoid violent outbreaks, get the catharsis they need, and defend themselves from cannibals.
Despite its stability, there’s always a chance that a lawful era will descend back into a crisis era: lawful combat rituals might result in an explosion of violent contagion; cathartic outlets might not provide the juice and result in riots; or the cannibals might fly an airplane into a tower.
If the society fears violent contagion and decides to move toward cleaner combat, it might seal up the borders, outlaw all rituals besides the war dance, and institute a formal era via martial law.
Back Into the Formal Era – Aesthetic, But Unstable
A formal era is inherently unstable: borders have to be closed, the state will come down hard on violence, and people have no recourse to blood payment except through the state. Without strict military protection and a smart propaganda campaign, cannibals will infiltrate and destroy a formal society.
The Chinese Government created Wushu and entered its purely formal era for decades, but the formal era was eroded with the reforms of the early 2000s: China invited in more outside media, the borders were opened, and MMA took off. Wushu is still around, but for how much longer? China’s formal era might be on the brink and the country might be joining the rest of the world by moving into a more stable lawful era. North Korea, though it allowed Taekwondo, would still be considered a formal society, albeit a very unstable one.
And just like the lawful era, a formal era can quickly unravel into a crisis era, as our peaceful tribe discovered.
Though formal eras are unstable, nostalgia for past formal eras permeates society. Musicals like West Side Story and spoofs like The Naked Gun feature highly coded violence. They call back to a time, often a fantasy that never existed, when violence was divorced of its contagious element.
Eras – Blueprints for Action Films
We will return to these eras – crisis, lawful, and formal – when we begin studying genre film, and action films in particular, since action film is a commemoration of the combat ritual. But first we will investigate media more broadly. How do crises affect media storytelling? How can we, as storytellers/filmmakers/choreographers, make the right kind of cathartic media? The next article on code-making will cover this and more.
In my article Mirror Neurons and Human Violence, citing Gans and Girard, I claimed that human violence is unique due to our complex mirror neuron systems and our (perhaps related) ability to use tools. This categorically differentiates humans from animals. Our tendency to escalate violence to extremes leads to one of two outcomes – a standstill, or total destruction.
Blood = Violent Contagion
The ancients were very sensitive to human violence. Any sign of it signaled to everyone that a crisis was at hand. One clear indicator of violent contagion was blood. Armor was ritually washed in Torah after battle. As a sign of contagion, blood from child birth and menstruation was quarantined to prevent further outbreak. This was a ritual common to most, if not all, parts of the world, enforced by both genders. It was not to eliminate bacterial contagion (even if that was a side effect), but violent contagion.
Violent contagion is commemorated, or ritualized, in various ways. Bloodbaths are simulated without casualties in La Tomatina. The sight of red doesn’t result in mass warfare because the safety release valve of the ritual, a booster shot, inoculates the crowd against future violent outbreaks. Early depictions of Holi indicate that the primary color for the celebration was red, though the Indian diaspora seems averse to using red.
If we’re going to try and think like ancients, then we can’t look at the taboo against blood and its related rituals purely as ignorant superstition. Red color has real meaning: sometimes taboo, sometimes fortune, but red is never meaningless.
Ritual is a virtual simulation of violent contagion. The ritual injects information into our mirror neuron system, which counteracts the gradual build-up of (often violent) intentions that we unconsciously download from others over time. Ritual unhitches our intent loads in a cathartic release, putting us back in right-thinking. (Its addictive qualities result in some interesting changes over time, which we’ll touch on later.)
The total destruction of society is too risky for any organization of people, so in the past we come up with some interesting ways of dealing with this. And we still use all of it, just with different coats of paint.
Case Study: A Territorial Dispute Leads to Murder
To begin, let’s simulate a situation common to all time periods: territorial dispute. Abe claims his property line includes the cedar tree. Bert claims his great grandfather planted the cedar. Abe builds a fence and encloses the tree. Bert knocks it down. The two shout. There’s an escalation. Intent loads escalate to extremes.
Abe has a knife in his belt. Bert anticipates violence. So he hits Abe in the head with a pickax and brains him. (Read Njáls Saga for an Icelandic example.)
In a functional, modern legal system, Bert gets arrested, tried, and goes to jail for second degree murder. But not long ago, Bert instead incurred blood debt. There are lots of ways of describing blood debt: “the ground demanded Abe’s blood”, “Abe’s blood cried out from the earth“, etc. Abe’s family would then collect the blood debt from Bert by demanding some form of payment: financial compensation, killing Bert, or Bert offering the life of someone from his family. Trumbull records this in his 1885 book Blood Covenant:
Hence, in the event of a depletion of the family by the loss of blood—the loss of a life—the goel had a responsibility of securing to the family an equivalent of that loss, by other blood, or by an agreed payment for its value. His mission was not vengeance, but equity. He was not an avenger, but a redeemer, a restorer, a balancer. And in that light, and in that light alone, are all the Oriental customs in connection with blood-cancelling seen to be consistent.
… Von Wrede, says of the custom of the Arabs, in concluding a peace, after tribal hostilities: “If one party has more slain than the other, the shaykh on whose side the advantage lies, says [to the other shaykh]: ‘Choose between blood and milk’ [between life, and the means of sustaining life]; which is as much as to say, that he may [either] avenge the fallen [take life for life]; or accept blood-money.” Mrs. Finn says, similarly, of the close of a combat in Palestine: “A computation is generally made of the losses on either side by death, wounds, etc., and the balance is paid to the victors.” Burton describes similarly the custom in Arabia.
Trumbull, Blood Covenant (1885) p. 89-90
Blood accounting and the feud are not-so-ancient concepts that we have to wrap our heads around if we want to understand ritual combat (and action choreography by extension). Without it, we’re left with a useless emotional reaction to sports combat and other ritual acts of violence (bloody MMA bouts, fist fights in Hockey) that thrive in modern pop culture. My hypothesis: ritual violence is a blood accounting simulation.
Emotional Reactions to Blood
An emotional reaction to blood is normal and healthy. This is a legacy function of our brains which creates a stress response when blood is present, signaling a real risk of violent contagion. There’s no need to resist this healthy impulse. The difference is that our ancestors had proper action understanding surrounding blood – they dealt more readily with open wounds, fought each other more often, saw a lot of human death, and killed a lot of animals with their bare hands. Most of us don’t have this kind of comfort with blood, but we don’t need it.
Nonetheless it’s critical that we understand violence so we don’t react emotionally to it. This helps us think clearly during violent threats and analyze the ritual violence of our ancestors fairly. Without some level of understanding, then violent experiences become locked behind an emotional firewall, preventing their rational discussion.
Take this cliche argument between an academic and a fighter. The academic argues from emotion. The fighter is ready to fight. The academic is coaxed into punching the fighter in the nose, drawing blood. The two might trade blows until the academic, having now built up just a little bit of action understanding, can suddenly speak and think rationally. The violent intent load has been released from behind his emotional firewall, giving the rational part of his brain access to it. This is also how EMDR claims to work. I’ll leave it to you to determine whether to proceed, because it gets a little bloody.
With that, here’s the Blood-Ritual Spectrum.
1. THE BLOOD FEUD
High risk of contagion
Rapid response to unplanned violence
Examples: Icelandic Commonwealth, Albania, Death Penalty
On the bloodiest side of the blood-ritual spectrum is the blood feud, a stripped down duel whose aim is to balance the blood debt. The concept is that once payment has been made, the feud is over. On a local level, this seems to have “worked”. It survived for a third of a millennium in the isolated “anarchist” Icelandic Commonwealth a thousand years ago. It’s not an ideal form of tort law, but it also didn’t seem to destroy everything in sight.
The death penalty is the only remaining remnant of the blood feud, whereby revenge is prevented via the police. Until recently the death penalty was a public affair which drew large crowds, with the implicit warning to onlookers that they were to “keep the law or this will happen to you.” Today, the death penalty in the USA is a mostly private, bloodless affair, which minimized violent contagion. They even sterilize the needle for a lethal injection. The old mindset believes that violence and plague share the same contagious channels. To them, this level of sanitation makes sense.
One problem with the blood feud is that it doesn’t function well with outsiders. Neighboring tribes may not have the same sentiments about blood accounting that we do. Perhaps have different views on revenge, or what weapons should be allowed in the blood feud. If we can’t agree on the terms, then either we have endless war, or one side subjugates the other. The blood feud is a disaster in a global economy. A single assassination can kickstart an entire world war.
Another issue with the blood feud is the contagiousness of it. Blood feuds often spread like wildfire to the loser’s next of kin and beyond. It was in everyone interest to put up some boundaries to confine the conflict between the two parties. This became “the duel”.
2. THE DUEL
Lower risk of contagion
Examples: Samurai, Western Gun Duels, later Icelandic sagas
The duel is a humanitarian response to the blood feud. If revenge spiraled out of control, boundaries were erected to reduce or eliminate the spread of contagious violence. At the same time, participation was mandatory. A combatant did not back down from a challenge. In Japan it was better to kill one’s self than to forfeit a sword duel. Icelanders called them níðingr (nithingr), or the lowest form of cowards. European gun and sword duels functioned the same way.
The anticipation of a duel, with death hanging in the air, was a good incentive for others not to let disputes go this far.
Nonetheless, after a duel, a bloody corpse usually remained. Blood contagion was still a factor, just less so than the blood feud. Revenge against the victor was taboo, but not unheard of. The observers might be contaminated by the duel and unleash their own violence in a later, unrelated event. There was an effort to clean up the ritual while still maintaining the dueling elements.
3. FIST FIGHTING
Moderate blood (broken noses, busted lips and knuckles)
The bare-knuckle fighting Wiki page says the first recorded fist fight was in 1681, but that wasn’t the first ritual fist fight. From the moment we realized we could sort out our differences without the fear of death, we fought bare-knuckle brawls. Fist fighting is a critically important institution in America (Dawg Fight, 2015), Ireland (Knuckle, 2011), and anywhere else where warrior classes are legally obligated to abandon their arms and sort out their differences in the arena. They resort to bare knuckle fights because they’re the next-best option to dueling. Peru’s Takanakuy requires combatants to shake hands before and after the fist fight.
Academics criticize bare-knuckle fighting for its supposed “barbarism”. This concern stems from the preponderance of blood in the sport. Common injuries include face cuts and broken hands, fingers, and teeth. However, there are myriad benefits of bare-knuckle fighting over its sanitized cousin boxing.
Bare-knuckle fights are fast and result in only surface injuries. The risk of a broken hand incentivizes contestants to throw strategic shots. By contrast, boxers’ hands are protected by gloves, incentivizing them to punch more often. Bare Knuckle Fighting Championship (BKFC) fights last a maximum of 5 rounds, 2 minutes each, for a maximum of 10 minutes. Boxing fights run 12 rounds, 3 minutes each, a maximum of 36 minutes. More shots thrown and longer rounds in boxing result in far more head trauma than in bare-knuckle fighting.
Academics-turned-lawyers have tried for centuries to outlaw bare-knuckle fights and enforce the use of gloves. This comes from an emotional reaction to the sight of blood, an element that is permitted in the sport. This confirms that blood contagion at the sight of blood is real, even to an academic.
But bare-knuckle fighting has its limits. The audience will demand a longer fight. They’ll want variety beyond just using one’s hands. A fight promoter doesn’t want a corpse on his hands, and we might try and clean up the blood a little more. This was the introduction of free fighting. (Kyokushin Karate and some other contact sports and competitive martial arts fall somewhere within this category and the next.)
4. FREE FIGHTING
Less blood thanks to gloves
Longer rounds (3-5 min.)
Examples: UFC, Savate, Muay Thai, Sanda
The free fight is a little cleaner than the bare-knuckle fight and is far more marketable. It’s often characterized by the use of gloves and allows the legs as weapons, and sometimes includes throws and grappling. Gloves, mouth guards, and groin cups allow the fights to run longer than the bare-knuckle fight. Early UFC fights featured no gloves and unlimited ring times, but the introduction of grappling meant fights sometimes went beyond 40 minutes, and the audience hated it. The UFC has continually re-written the rules to strike a balance between portraying realistic combat and keeping the fight entertaining for the spectator.
Blood is allowed to flow in the free fight. It’s common for UFC fighters to bloody the mat up, and it’s extremely rare for fights to be stopped due to blood. Still, free fighting is just less visceral than bare-knuckle fighting.
There’s always the potential that a ritual combat league or combat sport will transition into a cleaner category. The Masvidal vs. Diaz fight was stopped due to a standard cut over Diaz’s eye. Many claim the state-employed doctor who made the call was inexperienced and responded emotionally. This was no surprise to UFC fans who have known New York ti be particularly hostile to MMA, beginning with its 1997 ban in the state.
If stopping UFC fights due to blood contagion were to become standard practice, Dana White would be forced to transition the league into a cleaner category. But this is unlikely given the audience’s backlash from the decision. And if the UFC were to be cleaned up, leagues in other countries would quickly take its place and soak up all the fans. And given President Trump attended the Masvidal vs. Diaz fight, there’s no indication that the American (or New York state) government will make a move to clean up the biggest free fighting organization in the world.
But cleanups happen. That’s how you get boxing.
Restrictions on blood
Very long fights (up to 36 minutes)
Extremely limited set of movements
Examples: Boxing, fencing, kendo, airsoft (see bottom of section)
Boxing is universally recognized and understood. Equipment: shorts, gloves, mouth piece, groin cup. 4 moves: jab, cross, hook, uppercut. 3 minute rounds, 12 rounds. If they can’t stop your bleeding, you lose. Boxing is where ritual combat becomes very clean.
The world loves boxing. We’re drawn not just to the combat, but to the stories and the rivalries. Our mirror neurons immediately sync up with Pacquiao and Mike Tyson, who went from nothing to global superstars. We become stars ourselves as we watch them rise to the top. Their rivalries sync with our own interpersonal feuds. Boxing’s lack of blood is compensated by the human interest dramas that accompany each fight.
The combination of reduced blood contagion and entertaining human interest stories is why boxing is one of the biggest commodities in the entire world.
Traumatic brain injury (TBI) has made boxing something of a political hot potato in the West. Gloves protect the hands but not the head, incentivizing combatants to throw more strikes. Gloves reduce blood contagion, instead causing cleaner injuries. A bloody bare-knuckle punch destroys the teeth, but a boxing punch destroys the brain. MMA fighters face brain injury too, though for different reasons and probably less often.
When we watch boxing, our mirror neuron systems is constantly loading the intents of the fighters. We unconsciously simulate the fight in our brains. The intentions are absorbed and either released later in our boxing gym, or maybe they erupt on the spot. Boxing, and combat in general, clearly has a tendency to rile up the audience. Theoretically, if striking were removed from the equation, you’d have an even cleaner form of ritual for our combatants.
Many other combat sports fit the cleanliness, limitations, and aggression of boxing, but employ different weapons and rules. Kendo and modern fencing require skills that are beyond the average person, so they could be considered cleaner. Others, like airsoft and SCA, might be categorized as bloodier.
Very low chance of blood
Examples: Judo, Jiujitsu, Sambo, Senegalese wrestling
By removing striking and only permitting throwing or grappling, the audience is deprived of the cathartic punch of the Boxing ritual. Wrestling, by contrast, is a far cleaner affair. The audience’s violent contagion should be restricted to some broken bones, with minimal blood contagion.
The fantasy of living in a warrior society devoid of blood contagion has prompted some interesting films such as Johnny To’s Throwdown (2004). Compare this to the grim reality portrayed in a very different grappling film like Mamet’s Redbelt (2008).
Can we go cleaner? Do we need to? Can wrestling get out of hand and grow bloody? It can. Can we keep the clashing bodies, but eliminate the combat component altogether?
7. CONTACT SPORTS
Rare chance of blood
No fighting (except hockey, in “fist fighting” above)
Examples: Rugby, American Football, Roller Derby, Kabbadi
Sports players aren’t the problems in sports. It’s the fans who get out of hand (even the winners riot). Football Hooliganism (literally the name of its 8-mile long wiki page) is a global phenomenon. It reveals that a clean, non-combat sport like football/soccer will still have a massively contagious element.
Perhaps we’re so far from the blood end of the spectrum that the sporting event itself causes more problems than it solves. Or maybe guys will fight over anything, and football happens to be what they chose. We could still maximize the cleanness by totally departing from aggressive competition.
8. THE WAR DANCE
Zero blood (except some WWE)
Combat is choreographed or friendly
Movements can be applicable
Examples: Wushu, some Kung Fu forms, WWE, Lucha Libre, Pakistani Kabbadi, Kalaripayattu, Capoeira
In 1958, the communist party of China determined that the traditions of kung fu distracted the individual from his duty to the state. The Chinese State Commission for Physical Culture and Sports then created Wushu, a performance art combining kung fu and military poses, but emptied of kung fu’s more traditional, sacred elements. (Communist states tend to try and wipe out the sacred center, replacing it with the state itself. Strange things will often happen.)
Wushu, one of the most physically demanding sports on the planet, is on the clean end of the spectrum. While the combatants attack with fists, feet, and weapons, the movements are entirely scripted like an Olympic gymnastics routine. Wushu is as white-washed as combat gets. Nobody riots after a Wushu performance.
Ritual arts have a long legacy in their respective domains. Pro wrestling leagues around the world like the WWE, All Japan Pro Wrestling, and Lucha Libre feature choreographed moves and scripted character drama. The stories before and after the match are an integral part of the fights. Pro wrestling is the ultimate stage drama because writers determine the narrative. Peking and Cantonese Opera function the same way. (The WWE isn’t always clean, however.)
The clean end of the spectrum might be home to some outliers. Capoeira isn’t scripted, and while its moves can be used in combat, the roda is a mostly friendly affair, and the movements of Capoeira call back to a significant part of Brazilian history. Wing Chun Kung Fu also has some application, but much of the ritualization in the art centers comes from its history. Animal styles of kung fu feature a similar sort of physical storytelling.
The Blood-Ritual Spectrum Overview
Bloody: Paying down blood debt despite high risk of violent contagion.
Less Bloody: Strict rules of battle reduce spread of violent contagion.
Clean: Cathartic entertainment with heavy restrictions on blood.
Cleanest: Ritualized storytelling without fear of violent contagion.
The audience plays a huge role in this. Cathartic entertainment is what they came for, but the intents they load have to go somewhere. We’ll cover this in the next post.
Adesanya vs. Romero in UFC248 was mostly a stand-off. In round 1, Romero lured Adesanya in and tagged him. Adesanya said, “Okay, now I know I can take his worst punch.” Yet, Adesanya played an outside game, with Romero hoping to lure him in again. Repeat for 5 rounds.
Chess fights like these are normal in the streets. The opponents have their different weapons, ready to draw, but the rules of the game create conditions that don’t incentivize the contestants to ever use them. The opponents’ intent loads bounce off one another until they realize the risk of death isn’t worth it, so chess fights usually end with some “f*ck you’s” and a stand-down:
The audience hates these. We have our own violent intents loaded from resentments built up over the week, and we watch fights expecting the opponents to resolve these intents by mirroring what’s in our own brains. When the contenders play chess, our intent loads are left unresolved.
Sanctioned combat is not designed for the fighters. The rules are for the audience, except in the case of safety and liability laws. New rules are always introduced to urge the contenders in the direction of proper intent offloading. Otherwise, the audience leaves unfulfilled and the show loses tickets. That’s show business.
Romero vs. Adesanya is more representative of a real fight than most stuff in the UFC, but events like this in UFC248 may result in rule changes. We’ll see what happens.
The camp fire was the center in our ancient world. It’s where the animal sacrifice was cooked. Our ancestors distributed the meat equally to the periphery members. Animals didn’t function this way: alphas ate the meat, the betas ate the rest, if any was left. A beta could challenge the alpha, and when he won, he didn’t create a popular democracy with the other betas. He became the alpha.
We humans, as opposed to animals, divided the meat equally among the periphery. There’s a good reason this happened: mirror neurons in the human brain. Please read my article Mirror Neurons and Human Violence for some context before going on.
The human’s mirror neuron structure, in the context of a challenge between an alpha and beta, presents a paradox: we create a simulation of the opponent’s intention to kill us, so we might as well strike first, but we, and everyone around us, are aware of the uniquely human prospect of total annihilation. A binary solution means we either go all in and decide who’s the alpha, or we stand down. Both options result in the continuation of the alpha-beta relation, with no chance of transitioning into an egalitarian tribal model.
How and why humans “decided” or “evolved” to become egalitarian has been a favorite topic among academics, who often want to deride capitalism or push other agendas. Conversely, their opponents balk at the lack of growth in these egalitarian “backward” tribal societies. Neither side could ever posit how or why this transition from alpha-beta relations to the distributed, egalitarian model happened.
For this, Eric Gans has developed the compelling Originary Hypothesis. I suggest reading it. There’s also a wiki page. In short, the human alpha male wanted the meat exclusively for himself. The “betas” converged in a plot against the alpha, armed with hidden weapons (rocks, etc.) at their disposal, a uniquely human problem. Animals don’t mob the alpha with weapons, but humans do, and an alpha human has no fighting chance against the mob. Knowing there was no chance against the intricate network of human mirror neurons surrounding him, and the crowd intuitively knowing that a mob action against the alpha could destroy the entire community (or just continue the status quo), someone (it doesn’t matter who, this is purely a hypothesis) emitted the first sign, either verbal or gestural.
This first sign was the first act of language. In the midst of the angry mob, the alpha, or anyone who could assume legitimate leadership, took on the role of dividing the meat equally and averting the crisis. This was nothing short of a miracle. The animal at the center was thanked and worshiped for its divine ability to stop violence.
(The raised hand might be the first reciprocal sign. It’s universally known by all nations, and any child will understand it. Trumbull writes at length about its use as a covenanting gesture between fellow humans and with the supernatural. However, whatever this sign was, or when it happened, doesn’t matter. The hypothesis doesn’t even claim to explain a transition from one stage of humanity to another, and so it can also be seen from the orthodox view as the origin of humanity.)
The one in charge of the distribution had the ability to replicate the distribution process the same, earning him the title of priest.
But people have bad memories and began wondering why the priests received special treatment. Envy set in, even among those working alongside the priests. Temple duty wasn’t enough for Korah – he wanted the priesthood too. Before Paleo-Hebrew, writing the process down was impossible. So it was retold, usually in an address to the crowd.
The priest took the center of the scene and told the crowd about the miracle of peace that fell upon them after the distribution of the meat. Some details, of course, might have been altered, either deliberately or because over the generations the game of telephone produces some pretty wild stories. The storyteller could embellish things however he wanted, so long as the story justified the differentiation between the priesthood and the rest of the tribe. This storytelling was critical for maintaining the peace and keeping us from killing one another. It was our earliest form of entertainment.
There were tribes who also sacrificed humans, which according to Rene Girard began when two sides of a feud scapegoated a person, whose death brought peace. It’s a grizzly thought, but there’s no better way to explain the Aztecs’ murder of thousands of children, slaves, and virgins each year to appease the sun (presumably their own fiery “center”). This emissary murder had to be explained, or the kids might wonder if they would be next. So burned humans became phoenixes, drowned women became mermaids, people thrown off cliffs became winged gods, etc. Mythical exaggeration is a “lie” in the rational sense, but to our ancestors, the ends justified the means. They had a Spock-like utilitarian mindset: better one emissary murder than the entire society collapse. Not that I agree, but this is a pretty satisfactory explanation for their actions.
Priests have always held a monopoly on storytelling for the masses. They inform us as to what’s sacred, what’s profane, what we can say and what we can’t, who the good guys are, and who the bad guys are. Who to vote for, who not to vote for. What’s cool and what’s boomer. Their position has a long legacy of keeping the peace, so their status is zealously guarded by an elite group of media personnel, execs, and whoever else can be employed to maintain the equilibrium. If their stories are kosher, then we’re in the hands of a good priestly class, and we can sleep easily. But if their stories stink of murder, if they’re just propagating lies to keep the machine running, what do we do?
In the West, we have the popular notion of “rising up” against the lies of tyranny. This produced rabid mass murdering alphas like Hitler, Stalin, Mao Ze Dong, and countless others throughout the 20th century. They were united in their desire to counteract the “lies” of their time’s priestly classes, but their media turned out to have more lies than the ones they left in ruins.
Counteracting a lying priestly class requires a legitimate priestly class who can tell bulletproof stories. A story is bulletproof not just on its own merits. “True stories” become festering lies if you tell just this one story and claim it represents (or voids) every other story. Bulletproof stories present a reality that is true for every conceivable story.
The priesthood of Aharon in Tetzaveh is backed by the authenticity of the scene at the burning bush. The Elohim who wouldn’t give Moses His name, but instead gave a sentence “I Am That I Am”, is the Elohim who is inaccessible by summoning Him at the fire. The burning bush was devoid of a center. The sacrificed animal or human was not their Elohim. He is not there and never was. He is that He is. His story is true for every conceivable story. A priesthood built upon this reality creates bulletproof stories. (See Eric Gans’ Science and Faith.)
Defanging a lying priesthood can be a pretty peaceful endeavor when you have access to allthe necessarytools to tell any story you want, at almost no cost. But the story needs to be bulletproof. True storytellers hold legitimate power. If the story is bulletproof, the lying priesthood will be de-legitimized. All this without a single alpha-beta battle.
We hear this a lot: we humans are even worse than animals because we murder one another.
That’s a half-truth. It’s true that animals don’t murder one another, at least not very often, and humans do. The other half of the truth is that humans have created entire institutions to avoid violence at all costs. So, give humans some credit.
Still, the question remains: why do humans murder one another? Why do fights escalate so quickly? Why do we take revenge? And why don’t animals do this?
For millennia, we’ve had spiritual answers to these questions. “We’re fallen”, or “we’re cursed.” These are loaded terms. Unfortunately for us, we’re so far removed from the sacred that terms like these are reduced to mere superstition, and the “educated” mind has a hard time understanding the meaning behind them. But neuroscience and the discovery of mirror neurons can help us out.
The Discovery of Mirror Neurons
Giacomo Rizzolatti discovered mirror neurons first in the macaque monkey. They were looking for the neuron in the monkey’s brain that was responsible for grabbing a banana. They found it, put a probe there, the monkey grabbed a banana, and a machine beeped. Then a scientist grabbed a banana, and the machine beeped again. The monkey, perceiving someone performing the grasping, thought (however minimally) that it was grabbing the banana. (Read: Rizzolatti’s Mirrors in the Brain)
After some more tests, Rizzolatti discovered a large network of mirror neurons in the macaque monkey. Then his team discovered even more in the human brain. If you stick your tongue out at a newborn baby, he’ll stick his tongue out at you. This isn’t rational, and it’s not instinct. It’s pure mimicry in his mirror neuron system. Hi-5s work the same way soon after in development. Eventually he’ll copy your thumbs-up gesture. The neuron network develops from the tongue “outward”.
Mirror neurons create simulations in our brains when we perceive the intentions of others. When we see a man teetering on the ledge of a cliff, we lose our breath momentarily. Our neurons mirror his, creating a simulation of his intentions in our minds. It’s like we’re him. That’s how a baby perceives his mother: he and his mother are one. The concept of the I doesn’t emerge until 2-3 years old, when the mirror neuron system is mostly developed and begins taking on a “mind of its own” (the ego).
Mimicking Intent, Not Action
As developed humans, we don’t simply copy the movements of others. If we did, we’d never get anything done. Instead, we mimic intentions. Mimicry is context-dependent. If we see a clean table set, and a hand grabs a cup, we’ll assume the intention is to drink from the cup. A dirty table set, cleaning up. The hand may even take the same shape, but the difference in intention will fire a different neuron cluster. Intention is everything.
When someone performs an action, we load the intent into our mirror neuron centers. Then we have two, usually unconscious, choices. In this article we’ll focus on the decision to act on the intent load.
In a martial arts class, we copy the teacher’s punches thousands of times. In the end, we learn how to punch. By acting on the intent load, we strengthen the circuit between the neuron and our motor system. But something else is happening without our knowing it: we’re learning how to read punches. Every time you punch, you twist your foot slightly, and your hips move a bit, and one shoulder goes back. You’re mostly unaware of this, but that’s how every human body must move to do this punch. By doing this thousands of times, you can see that movement in your opponents. So when the shoulder moves in that certain way, you know a punch is coming. This is called action understanding and it’s how Muhammad Ali could read the minds of his opponents.
This “mind reading” is just action understanding taken to its logical ends. This is why “doers” make better critics than academics. Charles Barkley will always be a better basketball critic than an armchair sportscaster.
We’re sparring in our martial arts class now. The opponent lunges at us with a punch, we create that simulation in our minds, and if we’re properly trained we block or dodge. If we’re not trained, we don’t have the action-understanding necessary to defend ourselves, and the data is stored in memory without a proper outlet. Either we develop the action understanding necessary to release the intent load, or it’s stored as trauma until we have a proper resolution.
So, we’ve decided to act on the intent load. We punch back. There’s a back and forth. Martial arts class is a good place to test the mirror neuron system. Our teacher then sits us all down at the end of class. A good teacher will say, “Don’t go using this in the streets.” A bad teacher says we’re ready for war. Why aren’t we ready for war? Animals fight and get things done, so why can’t we?
Animal Combat vs. Human Combat
Animal combat is like our sparring class. When the opponent is coy and hides his right hand from view, we know he’s trying to conceal a punch. In our sparring class, all the variables are well know. Our opponent’s weapons are 2 hands, 2 feet, and in some classes his elbows and knees. He’s outfitted with appropriate defensive gear – groin cup, maybe shin and forearm pads, probably a helmet. The equation is 100% transparent to both combatants.
This is exactly how animals of the same species enter into combat: “I know he’s got hands, his teeth, the claws on his feet, and a thick coat I won’t be able to claw through.” Animals within a species generally aren’t able to kill one another with their natural weapons, and they don’t try to. They load all these intents and eagerly enter battle with one another, knowing that they (probably) won’t die. This is a closed altercation.
If we take our martial arts training to the real world, a different scenario unfolds. Our opponent hides his hand. Do we think he’s hiding a punch now? He could have anything. In an open altercation, at least one combat variable is totally unknown.
This is a key difference between humans and animals: humans use tools, animals don’t. When humans enter an open altercation, neither side knows whether he’ll get stoned, shot, stabbed, etc. Either we back down and avoid certain death, or we escalate just in case and stone, shoot, or stab first.
If we train ourselves in a hostile open altercation environment, we begin to suspect anybody with his hand in his pocket is hiding a weapon. We automatically assume the worst in otherwise normal situations. This is PTSD.
Rene Girard got us only so far with Violence and the Sacred with his research on violent escalation, but he couldn’t give the why. Now we have a neurological reason for why humans escalate to extremes.
An open altercation might not end there. The victim’s cousin might take revenge. Then our cousins will take revenge. Then his entire family will avenge them. Eventually we realize we’ve started a civil war.
The Contagion of Violence
Our ancestors understood civil war so well that the very threat of violence and bloodshed took on a character of its own. Violence was rightly seen as a contagion that threatened to destroy all of humanity. The CDC issued a report that said gun violence acts like a plague. They were wrong: all human violence acts like a plague.
Many of us wish to believe we’re above violence, but nobody is free from the constraints of the mirror neuron system. When we witness violent intentions, we load it. There’s no choice made. No matter how gifted or enlightened, this is what humans do automatically. Our celebrities and politicians present “rational” resolutions for this problem at every turn. Our ancestors had amazing resolutions to this issue, which will have to be covered in another article. Action cinema and gaming is not far from what they created. But when our leaders decry rituals as savage, imperialist, or simply stupid, they deliberately cover up the reality that humans are cursed by this. We are fallen, and this is what defines human violence.
by Eric Jacobus I spent years doing traditional pre-vis (or “previz”) for action scenes in films and shows like Altered Carbon, Black Panther, and A Good Day to Die Hard. I took this overseas for Heart of a Champion and Man Who Feels No Pain. Previz is a video blueprint for a movie. They did one of the first pre-vizzes for The Karate Kid, essentially a walkthrough of the entire movie. You can see it on YouTube [EDIT: looks like the video is gone. Pre-viz became more advanced with digital filmmaking, which Yuen Wo Ping employed in The Matrix‘s previz, and with 3D tools in the sequel. Serenity‘s previz, done by 87Eleven, employed sound effects, props, and crowds of stuntmen wrecking on concrete and wooden stairs. This was probably when the previz market exploded. Every indie action filmmaker had learned camera and editing skills over the previous 10 years. They scored big Hollywood jobs, but those filmmaking skills sat dormant. Now they could be employed to full effect to sell a coherent action vision. (The industry term, in the action world, is “stunt-viz”.)
High quality stunt-viz became its own selling point. It became common to work stunt-viz into the budget. The market began to demand that stunt-viz include, besides choreography blocking, all camera angles, editing, sound design, visual effects, music, color correction, and if possible wirework.
The limitations of a live-action stunt-viz required constant re-shoots, repeated falls and reactions for the stunt performers (unwelcome wear-and-tear), and many late-night re-edits. The result was the equivalent of a short action film created over the course of a week or two, which the production could use to demonstrate its high-quality action team.
When it came time to shoot, it was anyone’s guess whether they would actually use the stunt-viz. Most of the choreography would inevitably be thrown out due to time or performance constraints. They threw out the entire rooftop stunt-viz for A Good Day to Die Hard, but I never found out why. They might use some camera angles from the stunt-viz, but the DP will have his own vision. (Forget even asking him to come to the stunt-viz session. He won’t.) And if they do use the stunt-viz edit, then you’ve found a unicorn, or the production just wants everyone to be happy so they can traffic heroin on the side.
At any rate, whether or not any of the stunt-viz was used in the project might not matter. The team still got a long gig out of it, and the stunt coordinator got a high quality demo reel with the stunt-viz.
Since then, previz has become an entire market. Halon, Third Floor, and every stuntman on earth has the means to create high quality previz. Some of them are ridiculous in their production value and have so much gloss they could almost be short films. Almost…
What exactly can you do with stunt-viz? Or live-action previz in general? You can polish it up and add vfx and try to make it into a short film. At best, it’s a bunch of stuntmen in workout pants doing choreography in a gym. Live-action pre-viz just doesn’t carry very far beyond:
Reference for the production
A demo reel to pitch for the next production
Fun behind-the-scenes material that you hope will get a couple thousand views on YouTube
The Process Is the Problem
Live-action pre-viz is a process problem. The reason stunt-viz loses value is because film productions are linear by their nature. They weren’t always that way. Chaplin and Keaton films were, in a way, non-linear. They were like live performances when everything happens at once, only with a camera. Set-construction was Keaton’s specialty, and his gags hinged on this process. Chaplin would rearrange entire scenes to get a gag right. Jackie Chan, with the same live performance background as these Vaudeville performers, used the same process to make his great works. These productions were vertically integrated. The auteur‘s vision had perfect continuity because he exercised control over the elements of production. And that’s how you made good comedy. The auteur was a busy guy because he had to ensure every department carried his vision to completion. Or he just did it himself.
The studio system commodified film by making the process linear. Set construction was graciously taken off Keaton’s back so he could focus on things the studio deemed more important, like learning his dialog lines to take advantage of the new sound capabilities of film. This was the death of Keaton and the rise of screwball stars who could say funny things in funny ways. Fortunately, Chaplin had a good voice… and his own studio. The filmmaking process would become more like an assembly line.
The linear studio system is what we have today. It’s Netflix, Universal, WB, and Disney. Production departments have relative autonomy over their processes. There’s some oversight, but generally these teams are free to do what they need to do, but they do it with caution. Camera team will overshoot (just to cover themselves), and editors will edit the mountain of footage. When a single edit might work perfectly in a scene, the editor might use ten, because ten angles were shot. And you don’t want to throw stuff away. The camera operator doesn’t edit the film, and the choreographer doesn’t shoot the action. The common result is the “Blockbuster style” – lots of camera angles, lots of editing, lots of money. Bollywood and Chinese blockbusters are the same. The linear process is the antithesis of the Chaplin, Keaton, and Jackie Chan genius.
You got a job at Marie Calendar’s because they tasted your grandma’s signature apple pie recipe. Now you work the line building pies. There are fifteen stations of the Marie Calendar apple pie. Your job is to cut the apples. The guy down the line puts marshmallows in the apple pie, because they sold 80 million applemallow pies in China last year. You wish you could make your grandma’s apple pie, but hey, it’s a job.
The Non-Linear 3Viz Process
I did some motion capture for God of War and some other games. One day I walked past a sound booth on the way to the mocap stage, where a sound designer was working on the sound for today’s mocap shoot. This broke my linear filmmaking brain. How can you predict what the sound design will be for something you haven’t even shot yet?
Game design, and 3D filmmaking in general, is not a linear process. It’s a spiral. I snapped this photo of the game design process during a Unity presentation:
This isn’t a revolutionary way of thought. This is how great action and comedy were made almost a century ago. Sometimes, great ideas are very old. The process also applies to virtual production, which is when 3D engines and filmmaking cross paths. In a virtual production, you can motion capture animal movements and stream it live onto an LED wall or into a green screen, composited on the fly, and tracked with the camera movement. Once disparate processes of filmmaking suddenly collide into the same moment. The auteur’s vision can be executed at every second, but only if he can grasp the tech.
That’s the moment I took a right turn from the traditional, live-action world and began learning Unity, Unreal, MotionBuilder, and the Xsens system. We created action scenes using these tools, pitching them as high-end 3D pre-viz, which I dubbed 3Viz. With 3Viz, we could shoot and edit the pre-viz, or we could ship it to the production and let them do it. Reshoots and re-edits in 3D were as simple as moving some camera icons around, altering the timeline a little, and re-exporting. A reshoot might take a couple hours for a single person. The alternative was the live model, which meant getting our 15 stuntmen together again at the gym and re-shooting and re-editing everything.
The goal of 3Viz is to get the director’s action vision solidified before post-production, before cameras roll. The director might want to change the environment to accommodate the action. He might want a character to be 30 feet taller. Or move the sun 90 degrees west. All of this is 3D modeling 101 and requires a few clicks. Finishing the 3Viz mocap, shoot, and edit requires a team of 4-8 people, who can work remotely from cruise ships or hot springs at the same time and see live updates. The film is pre-finished this way.
The 3Viz is sent to all relevant departments. Art department replicates the textures when painting the set, carpentry builds the set that the director devised for the action, wardrobe is looking at the asset costumes, and camera team has a very defined shot-list. Any shots they can’t accomplish practically have already been sent to VFX, who are using the camera animations created in the 3Viz to build those VFX shots. VFX also have the motion capture files, character assets, and anything else for creating VFX shots in post. Publicity are using the assets for creating posters and social media posts to promote the film. Sound department is designing a soundscape based on the 3Viz edit. The composer has already playing to the 3Viz, and his music can be played on set like Morricone’s.
Cameras haven’t even rolled yet, but the film is almost done. During shooting, production can change the lighting on the fly to reflect the 3Viz using LED walls, and other lighting setups were pre-programmed weeks ago. Dailies are passed to the editor, who edits to the same 3Viz edit that he’s supervised for the past few months.
Post-production? What post-production? Clean it up, take a week-long vacation, and release the movie a month after shooting completes. The result is an action vision that is exactly the way the director planned it.
Cabin Fever is a demonstration of the 3Viz process which allows continuity of vision throughout the entire production. 3Viz can be a pre-viz and just stay that way. Only shoot what you need. Mocap for a day, edit for 2 days, and it’s done. Iterate away. But all the assets acquired during pre-viz can be kicked up to production and be worked into the final product.
In the case of Cabin Fever, the 3Viz IS the final product. With some facial capture, finger capture, asset creation, additional lighting and all that, we could have made it look as good as a Pixar film, but the action and the comedy, the bread and butter of the project, remain the same through all this. We hope you enjoy the short, but even more we hope you like the process. We cover that at the 5-minute mark.
Email me at firstname.lastname@example.org if you’d like more info, or if you wanna give it a shot.
Credits: WRITTEN & DIRECTED BY ERIC JACOBUS PRODUCED BY ZAC SWARTOUT ERIC JACOBUS AS “THE MAN” DENNIS RUEL AS ZOMBIE, ROBOT, AND “BERNIE” SET TECH/BEHIND-THE-SCENES/TITLES MARK R. JOHNSON MOCAP SUPERVISOR/UNREAL TECH/MOTION EDITOR MIKE FOSTER MOCAP TECHNICIAN CORDERO ROCHE LIVE VCAM OP JEREMY LE PA’s – CHRIS CORTEZ & DANIEL SHEPHERD
MUSIC: “HOME ON THE RANGE” BY CHRISTIAN LABRECQUE “DAWN OF THE DEAD” THEME BY GOBLIN “A HAPPY DAY” BY Z80 “GODZILLA THEME” BY ARTIFICIAL FEAR “TERMINATOR THEME (COVER)” BY NEON FRONTIER
POST-PRODUCTION BY ERIC JACOBUS BUILT IN UNREAL 4.23 SHOT USING GLASSBOX DRAGONFLY SOUND DESIGNED IN ADOBE MOTION EDITED IN AUTODESK MOTIONBUILDER SPECIAL THANKS TO TJ GALDA AND ALINA KLINAEVA
CREATED WITH 3VIZ COPYRIGHT SUPERALLOY INTERACTIVE 2020 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Eric Jacobus’s action design company SuperAlloy Interactive is now collaborating with Jacob Dzwinel on his sandbox fighting game. Jacobus is handling the choreographed action design and developing moves as well as performing for the main character using SuperAlloy’s in-house motion capture system.