Respond to these rapid questions in our Fight Club quiz and we will tell you which Fight Club character you are. Play it now.
The most openly and joyously fascist big-star film since “Death Wish” is “Fight Club,” a festival of violence in which the protagonists grant themselves permission to consume alcohol, use drugs, have sexual relations, and beat one another up.
Sometimes, for variation, they beat up themselves. It’s macho porn, the type of sex film that Hollywood has been working toward for years and in which all-guy locker-room brawls take the place of sex attraction between the sexes. Women, who have spent their entire lives dealing with little-boy posturing, will intuitively be able to see through it, while men might enjoy the adrenaline rush. It definitely obscures the problem because it is very well made and has a fantastic first act.
Edward Norton plays a depressed urban loner who is overflowing with anguish in the lead role. In a dialogue that is sardonic social satire, he explains his reality. He’s stressed out about his life and work. He seeks out 12-step meetings as a way to cope with his pain, where he can hug those who are less fortunate than himself and find catharsis in their suffering. Ironically, given that the entire movie is about guys afraid of losing their cojones, the first meeting he visits is for testicular cancer patients who have recently undergone surgery.
These opening scenes have a pleasant understated tone, and the Norton character narrates them in a voice reminiscent of Nathanael West’s in Miss Lonelyhearts. For reasons that will be made apparent later, he is only known as the Narrator. When tragedy hits, the meetings are acting as a sedative and his life is only just bearable: At meetings, he starts to observe Marla (Helena Bonham Carter). She is a “tourist” like him, someone who is only addicted to gatherings. He gets duped by her. He is aware that he is a faker but still wants to think that everyone else’s suffering is genuine.
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He has another significant meeting on an airplane with Tyler Durden (Brad Pitt), a man whose demeanor shines through the mist. Shortly after, when the Narrator’s high-rise apartment transforms into a fireball, he turns to Tyler for safety because it seems like he has a direct line to the Narrator’s soul. More is given to him. He joins Fight Club early, a group of men who gather in secret to beat one another into submission in an effort to achieve liberation and self-realization.
Around this time, the film stops being clever, savage, and funny and instead features some of the most brutal, relentless, continuous violence ever captured on camera. The men in “Fight Club” have fists of steel and hammer one another while the sound effects guys beat the living daylights out of Naugahyde sofas with Ping-Pong paddles, despite the fact that reasonable people are aware that if you hit someone with an ungloved hand hard enough, you’re going to wind up with broken bones. The story then takes yet another turn. Call it the Keyser Soze syndrome, but a lot of contemporary movies seem unsatisfied unless they can include climactic sequences that redefine the reality of everything that has come before.
Fight Club Quiz
What is the purpose of this? It is about breaking free from the constraints of modern living, which, in Durden’s opinion, confine and subjugate men. Members of Fight Club find freedom by being prepared to suffer pain themselves as well as others and chance death. For Durden, movies like “Crash” (1997) must seem like comedy. He is a mysterious, alluring figure who has the power to motivate hordes of men in large cities to enter the Fight Club’s hidden basements and assault one another.
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Only gradually are the precise contours of his grand scheme made known. Is Tyler Durden really a moral example for guys with sound principles? When he says, “It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything,” he sounds like a man who stumbled over the Nietzsche exhibit while making his way to the coffee shop in Borders. He doesn’t, in my view, have any real truths. Werner Erhard + S & M, a manager of a leather club without the decor, make him a bully. The Fight Club members are reduced to pitiful cultists as a result of their participation; none of them become stronger or more liberated. They should be given black uniforms and registered as skinheads. The movie tries to use the issue of whether Durden symbolizes dark aspects of the male psyche as a plot device, but it is unable to do so because the focus of “Fight Club” is on the action rather than the resolution.
Naturally, “Fight Club” does not support Durden’s viewpoint on life. It serves as a cautionary tale, I suppose; according to a reviewer I like, it “makes a telling point about the bestial nature of man and what can happen when the numbing effects of daily drudgery cause people to go a little crazy.” I believe that the numbing affects of films like this are what drive some people slightly insane. My guess is that the audience will like the behavior but not the argument, despite the fact that sophisticates will be able to defend the movie as a case against the behavior it depicts. A lot more people will leave this movie and fight than will leave it debating Tyler Durden’s moral stance, but they’ll still purchase tickets so they can watch Pitt and Norton fight. In films like this, the visuals largely speak for themselves; it takes a lot of narration (or narration) to refute them.
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The performers put in plenty of effort, Lord knows. In this film, Norton and Pitt experience almost as much physical pain as Demi Moore did in “G.I. Jane,” and Helena Bonham Carter plays a fiery chain-smoking hellcat who is likely so incensed because no man thinks having sex with her is as much fun as breaking a nose. When excellent actors are involved in a project like this, one wonders if they chose to participate instead of canyoneering.
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Jim Uhls, who adapted the Chuck Palahniuk book for the screenplay, worked with director David Fincher to create the film. It resembles Fincher’s 1997 film “The Game” in many respects, albeit with more violence directed at teenage boys of all ages. In that movie, a man (Michael Douglas) who is drowning in capitalism undergoes a testing process in which he is forced to learn how to battle for survival after having the rug pulled out from under him. The difference between “The Game” and “Fight Club” is that “The Game” was truly about its theme, whereas “Fight Club”‘s message was more like bleeding scraps of socially redeeming content tossed to the howling mob.
Fincher is a talented filmmaker. (his work includes “Alien 3,” one of the best-looking bad movies I have ever seen, and “Seven,” the grisly and intelligent thriller). He appears to be putting himself to the test with “Fight Club” by seeing how outrageous he can go. The film has layers of irony and criticism above and below the action, making it visceral and hard-edged. It might have developed into a great movie if everything had proceeded along the path discovered in the first act. But whatever message Fincher intends to convey, most viewers won’t understand it because the second act is manipulative and the third is deceptive. “Fight Club” is a thrill trip that passes for philosophy; some riders pass out while others can’t wait to get back on.
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