The fight scene is the single most important and meaningful expression in cinema. Without it, the inspirational montage would not exist, "I know karate" would not be the playground's Neutron Bomb, and Rocky would just be another mentally diminished meathead from Philadelphia (which is like being a teardrop in an ocean of sadness). But while nobody can dispute the value of the fight scene, the great tragedy is that the best are not always the brightest: Here are the most epic fight scenes in the history of film... that you've never seen:

3 Hard Ticket to Hawaii

The Setup:

It is a beautiful, peaceful sunny day, and everything that's wrong with the 90s jogs down the beach together. But their fun is quickly brought to a halt by one of the terrorists from Die Hard on his lunch break:

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The Fight:

"Who's this?" He demands of the woman. "He's just a thrower," she responds, after struggling and ultimately failing to remember what a Frisbee is called. "We're just throwing," the man reaffirms, in the same way you might reply "you too" to a waiter who asks you to enjoy your meal; he is immediately filled with shame, regret and confusion. "Oh yeah?" the postal worker retorts, clearly disbelieving that a man so stupid is capable of moving his arms laterally, "let's see you throw one."

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That's right: This game of Frisbee is the fight scene. No punches are thrown, no kicks are unleashed, no heads are locked--these two dual like true gentlemen of the 90s: as gaily as humanly possible. The only way this could be more emblematic of the era is if they were both on rollerblades and one of them was Will Smith. But, unbeknownst to our hero, this particular elite guardsman has sunk all of his skill points into dual-wielding and Frisbee manipulation (you're welcome, nerds), and the protagonist is in for the match of his life. He can't be blamed, though: How the hell was he supposed to know that he's up against Vincent Frisbee, long-lost heir to the Discus Fortunes?

The Aftermath:

Faced with the impending Frisbee apocalypse, the woman jogs away in mincing fear. Our protagonist, ever the gentleman, wishes her a good day by virtue of her ass.

What, did you think the game was a metaphor? No, this is how all true Frisbee games end: in death and embarrassment. Oh, but there is no regret for John Frisbee. No, he died as he lived: guarding an empty stretch of beach and recklessly entering discus throwing competitions during work hours. And to the victor, as always, go the spoils: The right to subtly fist-pump.