Fight Club

Bottom Line: Stylish, preposterously original black comedy.
Directed by: David Fincher
Starring: Brad Pitt, Christina Cabot, David Andrews, Edward Norton, Eugenie Bondurant, George Maguire Helena Bonham Carter, Meat Loaf Aday, Richmond Arquette, Zach Grenier
1st RULE: You do not talk about Fight Club.
2nd RULE: You DO NOT talk about Fight Club.
3rd RULE: If someone says “stop” or goes limp, taps out the fight is over.
4th RULE: Only two guys to a fight.
5th RULE: One fight at a time.
6th RULE: No shirts, no shoes.
7th RULE: Fights will go on as long as they have to.
8th RULE: If this is your first night at Fight Club, you HAVE to fight.
By definition, I’ve already headed myself in the direction of heavily fracturing the first and second “rules of Fight Club”, as famously spoken by actor Brad Pitt as Tyler Darden. But what do I care? Moreover, why should I care? In the modern age, especially, we could take a walk around any given city and perhaps spot out a couple hundred people whom present themselves as reminders of the psychosocial, nihilistic main character. If there was one person living on this earth who had a story this bizarre to tell–and actually lived to tell it–I’d actually be a bit more scared than impressed. Fight Club opens with a following of a bored, stressed man (Edward Norton) who would give anything to be just about anyone at a higher status than him. He works at an office by day, and by night, he spends his spare time in a necrophobic state, attending group therapy for just about every imaginable disease that he doesn’t have–only to find himself back at home losing another night of sleep to his chronic state of insomnia. Everything changes when this man, whose name beyond “Narrator” is not once revealed, meets Tyler Durden (Brad Pitt) on an airplane he has boarded for a business trip. The word “carefree” in no way begins to describe Tyler; “reckless” is only slightly better. It’s fairly ironic that even though he works as a retailer for soap bars, his lifestyle, domicile, and speech are all filthy in their own rights. To look up to someone as disgusting as Tyler would dig our Narrator, whose condominium has now been burned down, out of his almost bottomless pit. After being taken under Tyler’s wing, and into his dilapidated house, he is hesitantly brought into a world of reckless behavior, self-destruction, ignorance, and–above all–the co-foundation of Fight Club.






