Fight Club Review
by ejohnsonott AT prodigy DOT net (Edward Johnson-OttOctober 25th, 1999
Fight Club (1999)
Brad Pitt, Edward Norton, Helena Bonham Carter, Meat Loaf Aday, Jared Leto.
Music by the Dust Brothers.
Edited by James Haygood.
Cinematography by Jeff Cronenweth.
Screenplay by Jim Uhls, based on the novel by Chuck Palahniuk.
Directed by David Fincher.
139 minutes.
Rated R, 4 stars (out of five stars)
Review by Ed Johnson-Ott, NUVO Newsweekly
www.nuvo-online.com
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At one point in "Fight Club," Edward Norton and Brad Pitt study a
designer underwear ad posted on the wall of a bus. After looking at
images of a lean, incredibly well defined male body, Norton asks "Is
that what a man looks like?" and the pair break into derisive
laughter. In another segment, Pitt lectures a group of men, stating
they were betrayed by a television culture that told each boy he was
destined to be a rich, celebrated rock star or movie star. The irony,
of course, is that Norton and Pitt are both rich, celebrated movie
stars with bodies that closely resemble those in the underwear ad. The
beauty of "Fight Club" is that its creators are completely aware of
the irony.
Dark, brutal and very funny, "Fight Club," the latest from David
Fincher ("Alien3," "Seven" and "The Game"), is one of the most
mesmerizing films to come along in quite a while. This ingenious
package combines dazzling visuals, a sizzling score, top-notch acting
and a truly audacious screenplay to whack the audience upside the
head, challenging us to sort out the dense conceptual package. At once
a psychological study, an apocalyptic horror show and a feature length
bloody giggle, "Fight Club" shouts "Fire!" in a crowded theater,
knowing that most of us will stay and study the flames instead of
running to safety.
The film begins, literally, inside the mind of its unnamed narrator
(Edward Norton), as the camera swoops through his brain, out of his
head and up the barrel of the gun in his mouth. Then we jump backwards
in time to learn what led to this moment. Frazzled by insomnia, the
narrator begs a doctor for medication to help him sleep. Instead, the
physician snaps at his patient, suggesting he visit a weekly
testicular cancer victims' group to "see what real suffering is like."
At the meeting, the narrator finds himself sobbing in the arms of
"fellow" sufferers, providing the catharsis he needs to sleep. He
quickly becomes a support group addict, attending different meetings
daily under a variety of assumed names.
All is well until he meets Marla Singer (Helena Bonham Carter),
another poseur who travels the support group circuit because it's
"cheaper than a movie and there's free coffee.'' The narrator cannot
cry with another "tourist" in the room and his insomnia soon returns.
Then, during a plane flight, he meets Tyler Durden (Brad Pitt), a
self-assured provocateur who works two part-time jobs when not
peddling his home-made soap to upscale stores. As a projectionist, he
splices single pornographic frames into family films. As a waiter, he
"seasons" foods with his bodily fluids. Tyler and the narrator bond
during a night of drinking, sealing their newfound friendship with a just-for-the-hell-of-it fistfight. High off the violent release, they
decide to fight on a weekly basis. Other men witness the sparring and,
in short order, Fight Club is born, an underground phenomena that
spreads like wildfire.
Tyler becomes the central figure of the new men's movement, spouting
bumper sticker philosophy to his rapt audience of lost boys desperate
to remove the numbness from their ordered lives. Tyler begins
assigning homework ("Pick a fight with a stranger. Lose the fight")
and Fight Club escalates into Project Mayhem, something far more
frightening. The narrator is shaken by the changes. Why is Tyler
getting all the credit for something they both created? Why is Marla
sleeping with Tyler? And why didn't Tyler tell him about Project
Mayhem?
The extremely violent madness spins wildly, with kinetic camerawork
and the Dust Brothers' score creating a surreal atmosphere of
impending doom. The cast is outstanding, with the three principal
actors doing flawless work and Meat Loaf Aday contributing a solid
supporting turn. Jim Uhls' screenplay, based on the novel by Chuck
Palahniuk, contains so many ideas that it is impossible for Fincher to
address them all, so the director simply presents them for our
consideration. While sifting through the barrage, certain things
linger, from the early, almost subliminal single-frame flashes of
Tyler to the overwhelming homoerotic imagery in the bastions of
hyper-machismo. Of course, Tyler's psychobabble is merely a
rationalization for stylish violence (evoking memories of "A Clockwork
Orange"), but what does Fincher really think about the subject?
The moral conclusions are left up to us. In interviews, Fincher merely
stresses that the film is primarily a comedy. And it is: a grand,
horrific comedy that actually provokes discussion and reflection.
In light of a major revelation that comes late in the film, you'll
likely go see "Fight Club" again. I did, and the story is even more
fascinating the second time around. But as I left the theater, yet
another question popped into my head that will send me back to study
"Fight Club" a third time. SPOILER ALERT: THE FOLLOWING MAY REVEAL A
SIGNIFICANT PLOT POINT. After you learn the secret, ask yourself "Is
Marla Real?" Chew on that one for awhile.
© 1999 Ed Johnson-Ott
Originally posted in the rec.arts.movies.reviews newsgroup. Copyright belongs to original author unless otherwise stated. We take no responsibilities nor do we endorse the contents of this review.
