³ Fight Club ³ * * * *
Granted: youıve never seen anything quite like FIGHT CLUB. Based on the cerebral, kick-ass novel by Chuck Palahniuk, CLUB takes on a slew of issues, ranging from materialism to moral decay. It is visually stunning, quick, smart, stimulating, a visceral powerhouse. But, the film seems to meander; too many themes bouncing off one another, priorities misplaced, characters wandering aimlessly between brutal hand- to-hand choreography and passive philosophizing. Thereıs terrific material, here, let it be said -- just, a bit on the disorganized side.
And, then I went back. Had to; less intoxicated. Bits and pieces stuck with me as great, but not the whole, which kind of baffled me since I absolutely loved the book. Watching a second time, the film is still scatterbrain. Itıs also spectacular cinema. Boldly directed by David Fincher (SEVEN is one of the best, genre redefining, ever) -- a filmmaker who consistently tests the limits of his medium -- FIGHT CLUB focuses on insomniac every-man Narrator (Edward Norton, in a performance that is nothing short of amazing) and his inadvertant quest for self-improvement. He starts with support groups, of all disease and abnormality, where a hug from someone worse off than you is just the thing for a good nightıs sleep. Meets Marla (a wild eyed Helena Bonham-Carter), who goes for the free coffee, plus itıs less expensive than movies; a ³faker². Then, Tyler (another of our best and brightest, Brad Pitt), a social nuisance who sells homemade soap at twenty bucks a bar to finance militant uprising. Narrator, or Jack, makes his most resolute bond with Tyler; ³How much can you know about yourself if youıve never been in a fight?² They beat the shit out of each other, one night, in a parking lot and come to share the same primal instinct: emotional release via bodily harm. As Tyler puts it, you hit rock bottom when, and only if, you push yourself physically beyond yourself, to rise above. Spiritual discovery, if you will; pain equals destruction, and destruction equals awakening. Heıs the rebellious alter ego to Jack, and anyone for that matter daring enough to lose everything in order to gain control. Because, once youıve gotten low as you can possibly get, the only direction is up. Point taken. That perspective made him an intriguing character in Palahniukıs brilliant novel, and it works, here, as well.
Both relationships mesmerize, and the ultra-faithful script by Jim Uhlıs is quirky, witty and biting. Not to mention stunningly funny. You can forget subtlety, though; FIGHT CLUBıs grim and abrasive, virulent on top of its sometimes easy-goingness. Wouldnıt have it any other way. A ³three pitcher² bout amongst friends draws attention, and quickly becomes Saturday night ritual, relocated to bar basements where men join willingly to pulverize one another. No membership fees; each man, regardless how worthless or respectable his lot in life, deific for a moment or two of bare fisted suffering. A sensation that turns into a nationwide thing, existing ³between the hours fight club starts and the hours after fight club ends² according to Nortonıs droll, eloquent voice-over. Because, the first rule is... blah, blah.
Whatıs great about the novel (one thing, anyway) and here, too, is that these savage little get togethers are a starting place for something on more grand a scale. Recruitment for vandals and nihilists who believe ³losing all hope² is freedom. Tyler starts Project Mayhem, and passes out homework assignments which include initiating random fights. Funny montage. And, how could you not like Jackıs contribution to the cause -- a memorable scene, where Norton kicks his own ass before his traumatized boss, leading to ³corporate sponsorship².
Itıs about damning the consumer mentality, getting a new perspective, ³finding something out². FC also has perhaps the most playful story about the human psyche Iıve ever seen, and a realistic depiction of insomnia (ever had it, then you know). ³Nothingıs real² is true; wastebasket contents and airplane food take on a certain strange profound meaning. ³Youıre never really asleep, and youıre never really awake², and hallucinations are not unlikely. Tyler may be one. Jack may. Lose sleep, days on end, you get a distinct sense of futility, like nothing you thought mattered really does. You look for purpose; significance in the world. Anything to give yourself reprieve; God, Iıve been there. Which is why Jack becomes a junkie to twelve-step meetings. Why he listens to his inner misfit, gives his undivided attention (for a while) and follows orders. Seriously: whenıs the last time two sides of the same personality were this fully characterized?
Wasnıt sure how Fincher and team would pull off the infamous plot twist, but... damn, job well done. Allusion is perfection, as with Jack thinking aloud during his solo tussle, ³For some reason, I was reminded of my first fight with Tyler.² Marlaıs morning-after comment to Jack, ³I can hardly believe anything about last night.² A sex scene, in suspended animation, that blurs the manıs face. Or, one of Nortonıs very first lines in the film: ³I know this, because Tyler knows this.² Fun stuff, even if you already know whatıs going down.
Acting-wise? What can you say.. Pittıs an experimentalist, which fits in, whatever the project (MEET JOE BLACK excepted). He takes risks, and you sense it every second heıs on screen. Brit-beauty Carter -- accent gone, lady-like demeanor trashed -- isnıt so much in a performance, as a character sketch, but it works. I liked her scenes with Norton; the way he hasnıt caught on, yet, and treats her by turns coldly and with affection. She doesnıt push it, or overplay. Sheıs manic, alright, but not out of context. Plus, as Marla, grunge never looked so delectable (nor has it made me want a cigarette more in my life). Then, thereıs Edward Norton. Enough canıt be said about his work in FIGHT CLUB, so Iıll simply put it: if no Academy notice comes of what he has done in this film, consider the lot of them unconscious. He is out there, charismatic, assailable, naive, alive with screen presence and non-assumption. Beside giving one of the best movie narrations (second only to Ray Liotta, in GOODFELLAS), he nails every nuance of the character from Palahniukıs scathing novel, and then some. His scenes with Carter, Jack defensive when Marla invades his space, are humorous and kind of sexy. They split up nights at therapy, so neither gets exposed; he is resentful, because she sees through him, and protective of his territory (³This chick, Marla Singer, did not have testicular cancer.²) but drawn to her, also, because sheıs kindred. Same respect: Norton and Pitt have chemistry to spare. Much of their time spent is gruesome -- one scene, with Pitt drizzling blood on a manıs face, is gory beyond words; another, Norton pummeling a helpless youngster into oblivion, features about the queasiest close-up of a mangled face as I think Iıve ever seen. But, both stars shine in quieter moments, like their first meeting on a plane, and later when they make liposuctioned fat soap together. Big names; no egos.
From its brain-tour opener (and BTW, one of these days, cool title sequences are going to be refered to as Fincherian), backed by a driving Dust Brothers selection, on, the furiously entertaining FIGHT CLUB has masterpiece written all over it. Unanswered questions? You betıcha. If Tyler knows what he is, whatıs the ultimate goal? Just cause chaos and/or remake Jack from the inside out? And, where _did_ Jack learn to make explosives that way? Was he born knowing it and didnıt realize or start utilizing the technique till now, what?
Still, classic shit.
Best line: ³I donıt wanna die without scars.²
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