“Samurai Jack” is a source of nostalgia for many readers, who probably remember the primetime cartoon following a samurai lost in time, seeking to return home. Though, there is something to be said for the way that creator Genndy Tartakovsky creates action.
Take the opening of the season five premiere of “Samurai Jack.” The scene is established with a pair of aliens being surrounded by robotic beetle drones before Jack appears on the horizon in a wide shot, before cutting back to a medium shot. This change of aspect ratio is used throughout the scene from focusing in on a tire to an unfolding bow staff to a drop-down attack before cutting to medium-shot.
The space of the screen becomes a canvas, in which the action can take place. The focus can move from the eyes to a hand with only a few frames of animation, like a moving searchlight, aiding in the viewer's focus on specific elements, while the final blows are often shown in a wide shot.
Accompanying the visuals is the show’s sound design. Sound is a key element of the show, as several fights are interested in ways that sound plays into constructing tension and defining space.
Take Jack’s fight with “The Three Blind Archers. After realizing the archers only attack what they can hear, Jack must focus on the sounds of nature, to hide his footsteps. This is a scene filled with a near-deafening crunch of snow, that again pushes the audience to focus on sound design.
This use of silence creates a negative space, or ma, is found throughout Japanese artwork. For this show, ma is used frequently. Episodes often use moments of natural silence to create tension for the next scene.
This is most evident in the ambush with the bounty hunters. The consistent sound of water dripping establishes a rhythm to the scene while tension builds as we cut from a wide screen of a horizon to a close-up of one of the hunters.
The bounty hunters attack Jack as he walks into their ambush. The action itself takes place within the time frame of a single drop of water, the action becomes too quick for the eye. The scene slows down to a stutter, each of Jack’s movements highlighted against quick action.
The final moment sees the last surviving bounty hunter pulling a knife on Jack as the tension of the scene mounts. Jack doesn’t turn around, keeping his back to the bounty hunter.
The bounty hunter pulls a knife on Jack, and as she contemplates attacking him one final time, she drops her knife and falls to her knees, the futility of continuing the fight weighing her down. This is conveyed without dialogue or narration, showing ways in which action can tell a narrative.
These elements — aspect ratio, sound and narrative— are synthesized in the show's best fight: Jack vs. the ninja. The fight takes place within a lighthouse, where the ninja blends in with the shadows. In contrast, Jack adorns white to stand in the light.
The color seeps from the scene, and what follows is a stylized fight relying on sound and visuals to convey the action, inspired by ma art. Tension rises as the sunlight slowly fades, and Jack must find a way to defeat the ninja.
The scene is removed from any narration, explanations or blatant visual cues. Instead, the creators allow the visuals to speak for themselves. The show highlights the ways that action can be used in a narrative.
Action is raised up from its pulp roots to be something distinct in both animation and film, raising action to art, and making “Samurai Jack” a classic.
Benjamin Ervin is a senior studying English literature and writing at Ohio University. Please note that the views and opinions of the columnists do not reflect those of The Post. Want to talk more about it? Let Benjamin know by emailing him at be425014@ohio.edu.
