| Fight
Club
viewed October 17, 1999 at Century Plaza 10
For full
information about this film, click
here
I went to see Fight Club following a few hours
of utter disorientation after saying goodbye to my girlfriend
at the airport. I was alone in my Bay Area world
once more and I did not want to return home to my mom,
who disapproved of my girlfriend (well, at least her
race) and have to hear what she had to say
about my sorry startup life. Fight Club
seemed to be the only answer -- to stake a little time
and ground for myself before returning to the all-too
familiar estrangement of my life.
It almost worked -- but after a solid hour of
exhiliaration it finally drove me further
from a sense of reality and righteousness and left me deflated about my prospects. Most of all I
wondered where everybody was on this sunny Sunday
afternoon instead of joining me in this 1/4-filled matinee
theater. Out with their loved ones, alas...
Actually there were only a couple of loners besides me,
both of them intriguing looking, in a healthy attractive
way (as opposed to the unhealthy attractiveness of the
Fight Club actors), and someday I'll strike up a
conversation with another loner just to see what
happens. The rest of my company were mostly families, kids included,
and not as many men as I thought would outnumber
women. It was a gathering of well-adjusted groups
and individuals present that made our screening into a
subdued, gently laughing and ultimately unfulfilling affair.
I didn't go
to this movie to see guys beating up on guys but rather
to get a sense of where I was in life and where I could
go. Therefore I didn't identify with the
characters when they started pounding each other, since I perceived their
brawling as just another addictive, desperate act.
To think that men would take fight club seriously is
scary -- they're identifying with those being ridiculed.
Here's a movie that exploits what it criticizes (or vice
versa, in the last act at least).
Though the
first half is visually stunning and well-paced, the
social criticism is scattered -- cut up in a post modern
way (it is increasingly difficult to do take a singular
stance of social protest in a post-modern world, because
we're too informed of alternative points of view).
The script is full of flesh-tearing barbs at indicators
of society's ills, from IKEA catalogs to support groups
to bags of cellulite, but it's all taken from the stance
of the nihilist, the one who has no stance and laughs at
whatever may come, anything and everything. In the
words of Ebert "the message in "Fight
Club" is like bleeding scraps of Socially Redeeming
Content thrown to the howling mob." Director
David Fincher is a stylistic master, which is more than
he'll ever be as a provider of profound content.
Edward
Norton has a brilliant go in this movie -- it's all
about him wrestling with a side of him he can barely
comprehend, and he conveys that feeling almost
invisibly. I forgive the script for resorting to
scenes of him beating himself up because he makes them
watchable. Pitt is diesel slick as Edward's alter
ego, and Helena Bonham Carter is downright disgusting --
but good -- as his girlfriend. Too bad her
character ran out of purpose halfway through.
Meatloaf is a lot of fun too as the big guy with the
breasts.
The ending
is kind of nice to watch, with a lovely Pixies tune to
go home humming, but finally we have no real
constructive alternatives to the stated nihilistic
stance. What the narrator learns in the end is to let go
of his personal anxieties, but the release seems to
include his social conscience as well as his ego.
As I headed out into the blinding sun and my 83 Corolla
I convinced myself that this was enough (it must have
been the Pixies getting to me), but later I realized
that my letting go and enjoying this emptiness was no
different than what Norton's character does in those
support groups. The character's final disregard of
the world is the same as the coda of letting go and
seeing beauty in destruction of American Beauty,
and his accepting himself as the unspecial speck he is
brings Trainspotting to mind. Such
thoughts are nice for his slick Fincher world, but I
need a little more to get me up in the morning.
Somehow I was provoked enough by this movie to
search widely for reviews. Here are my findings,
which I placed in order of quality of criticism (they're
all pretty good):
Roger
Ebert (the only resoundingly negative review I
found, and the most pointed one)
Boston
Phoenix
San
Francisco Examiner
Village
Voice
David Poland at Rough
Cut (surprisingly, he, who rips relentlessly on
junkets, has written a junket style piece -- but I think
he sincerely likes this movie)
And hey, if you know of any good online reviewers,
let me know!
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