Live in the Montage
- Larry Githaiga
- Mar 19, 2019
- 3 min read
Life is a Series of Quick Cuts

The Rocky workout Montage
Scene:
He doesn’t see the punch coming. Mainly because his eyelids are nearly swollen shut and his ego has taken more than a simple bruising.
A drop of blood slowly makes its way down his cut forehead an onto the floor of the ring. He’s too exhausted to put his guard up. The darkness slowly consumes the edges of his vision.
His jaw is the first to feel the impact. His ears ring. The ring floor rises up to meet him.
Darkness.
Every story has it. That moment when the protagonist loses. It’s that beautiful moment when we, the audience, are reminded of the hero’s fragility. That however strong they are, there’s worse out there and it’s going to get them.
And in that second, mortality slaps him in the face and reminds him that destiny is a rough road. And that he needs to change. Needs to adapt. Needs to grow.
This moment takes many forms: Defeat, Loss, Divorce, Imprisonment. But the idea is always the same.
That external forces are sometimes needed to fuel internal motion.
Introducing: The Montage
Scene:
A man says something profound and deep to the protagonist as he lies in the hospital bed.
Something like: “Pineapples don’t belong on Pizza”.
The protagonist nods slowly. He stares at the wall but we can see the distant look in his eyes slowly fade as he sees his goal. He stumbles out of the hospital bed and despite the warnings of his doctors ( and very weak hospital security, apparently ) he heads to the gym. ( You know it’s an American film because he ‘s leaving since he cannot afford the exorbitant bill — But that’s a story for another day )
He takes a look at his gloves. Get’s on the floor and starts working out.
A series of fast cuts.
Him on the treadmill. Him on the floor doing pushups. Him on the skipping rope. Him taking punches. Him throwing punches. Him screaming in frustration in his dark apartment. Him getting up early to run. Him in the ring again. Him drinking some advertiser-branded drink that we needed to include in the film to make money. Him getting knocked out. Him getting back up. Him throwing a strong punch. Him getting knocked out again. Him taking a shower while staring deeply at the point where the wall meets the floor. Him running faster in the morning. Him punching the bag harder and faster. Him screaming in frustration. Him throwing punches. Him sparring again. Him drinking the same damned drink. Him knocking out his sparring partner. Him in the shower smiling, confident. Him back in the ring.
CUT
I love the montage. It fires me up as I await the final reckoning. I know that the protagonist has put in time and energy. That they have expended every resource in becoming better, in improving themselves. That their heart is in it. And now I await the final fight. The showdown.
But real life never works that way, does it? Every day is a tiny bit of the final battle. Every day is a tiny bit of the montage. And every once in a while, I have massive bouts with the enemies destiny puts in my way. But unlike the movies, there are no credits. No beautiful sendoff to the sunset. Only another morning, another day, another battle.
Live in the Montage
It’s a simple fix. Live in the montage. That’s what real life is, is it not?
A series of fast cuts between work and play. between love, pleasure and everything in between. Some days feel like a sped-up edit and others feel like someone slowed down the whole reel. But if we can find beauty in every moment. Perhaps the battles that plague us won’t feel like grand bouts but like everyday matches.
Just like the fast cuts of the montage, I have to embrace the actions that lead me to the goal.
I have to know my goal.
And unlike the movies where the goal is generally singular and oh-so-visible, real life has the sucky habit of embracing complexity. I have to keep moving forward. Keep showing up. Keep drinking that advertiser-friendly drink that makes someone money.
Because consistency breeds discipline and discipline is the first step of any accomplished goal.
More than anything, that is what the montage is about. A single-minded effort to achieve a goal. Any goal. And the willingness and dedication to getting there.
To me, the montage is the greatest unshown story. While it may not be the greatest thing to watch in its full form, It is truly the most relatable part of any film. Because in less than five minutes, It shows us that work must be put in to drive success. It shows that the day-to-day actions carried out matter and that improvement is a game of gradual change.
That within us is the great ability to achieve anything should we put our minds to it.
But most importantly, that Pineapple does not belong on Pizza.
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