Who knew the beat-'em-up gruntfest depicted in the movie's trailer was actually a disguise for a sharp, biting satire of American consumerism? ("The things you own end up owning you.") The Sixth Sense stole Fight Club's twist-ending thunder a few months prior to its release, of course, but David Fincher's macho yet philosophical masterpiece still holds up a decade and a half later. Edward Norton plays an insomniac product recall specialist for a major car company who meets soap salesman Tyler Durden (played by Brad Pitt) and together they form a "fight club" that seeks to expurgate male aggression pent up from years of servitude in slave-wage jobs. Seven director David Fincher brought his A game to this visually arresting movie, overlaying rapidly appearing - and then disappearing - texts over certain images. When people complained that there wouldn't be enough time to read all the words, Fincher helpfully explained that this would be a movie people "downloaded" into their brains, rather than watched, and even went so far as to sprinkle subliminal images throughout the film. Truly, he understood our ADD society. This rapid-fire/information-overload directing technique would later be aped by Edgar Wright's movies a decade later (especially Scott Pilgrim vs. the World). This is one of the quintessential movies of our frustrated, disillusioned generation. There's probably more to say, but the first rule of Fight Club is you don't talk about it.
Michael Perone has written for The Baltimore Sun, Baltimore City Paper, The Island Ear (now titled Long Island Press), and The Long Island Voice, a short-lived spinoff of The Village Voice. He currently works as an Editor in Manhattan. And he still thinks Michael Keaton was the best Batman.
