A tale of sado-masochistic homo-erotica ... not to be missed!

Rating: Null/10 (23 October 1999)

Rule number one about the Fight Club: Do not talk about the fight club. Rule number two: Do not talk about the fight club. I am about to break two important rules ... but only slightly.
Director David Fincher crafts a complicated tale about a man suffering from insomnia as he goes about his day-to-day life of earning a living, buying IKEA brand furniture, flying from airport to airport and filing report after report. Jack (played by Edward Norton) is the everyday guy without a life.

Jack discovers the wonderful world of support groups. He does not have testicular cancer, a problem with alcohol or a fatal disease, however, Jack finds comfort in the confines of these clubs where he is allowed to anonymously poor out his emotions. He never uses the same name twice, and his stories are whatever he wants them to be. Through these encounters Jack is suddenly able to sleep, and sleep he does.
His make believe world is crushed when Marla Singer (Helena Bonham Carter) starts to appear at the same clubs. Like Jack, she is a 'tourist', sans the alcohol dependency, the life threatening illness and testicular cancer. (As she claims, however, she, like the men in that room, doesn't have testicles.)
Marla is a trip in herself. As though she has a death wish, she walks into traffic and smokes like a fiend. She goes to these support groups because the coffee is free and it's cheaper than a movie. Jack demands that they attend separate sessions, and so they divide the group meetings between them, vowing never to run into each other again.
Jack then meets his wildest trip yet. Brad Pitt plays Tyler, a soap salesman with a anarchist view on life. When Jack's apartment is suddenly bombed, he turns to Tyler for a place to stay.
As the two begin to bond, Tyler teaches Jack to unleash his primitive instincts. They fight. And the fighting is brutal. The pain received from a blow is as much a rush as the thrill of punching the opponent. The wounds are battle scars, and they carry them with pride. This is the ultimate in manhood, and .... sorry boys ... but a sexual rush as well!
So begins a bizarre journey called the Fight Club. At this point I will heed the advice of rules number one and two and will say no more, except that you have to see this film. Once again, David Fincher has a masterpiece on his hands, an intricate story complete with characters who live on the edge, with morals that defy logic. Slick photography, quick editing, fast-paced narrative and brilliant writing make this film the acid-trip of the year. You don't know what is going to happen next. You must simply sit back and enjoy the ride.
Edward Norton is an ace at transforming himself into the character he plays. He IS the insomniac in search of a life. Brad Pitt delivers his best performance since 12 Monkeys. Once again, he is a madman, however this time he truly is dangerous. And Helena Bonham Carter steps out of her corsets and becomes the ultimate freak chick of the year.
I have not left a movie so exhilarated since Pulp Fiction. The story moves along quickly, taking odd turns and tangents, that often don't make sense, but in the end tie together nicely. The characters are all unique. Meatloaf plays a victim of testicular cancer, a former weight lifter, now affected by hormones that cause him to have breasts. He too is lured into the Fight Club because he wants his manhood back.
This is action on the same level as any great Scorcese picture. The story weaves in and out of odd situations like a great John Irving novel. I almost passed on this film because I thought it was just another movie about boxing. Don't be fooled by the trailer. Check this one out. It's easily one of the best films of the year!!