|
www.kevacho.com
©2002-2024
Kevin Michael Vance
Writer - Portland, Oregon
|
|
|
Go Back To Reviews
Title: Fight Club
Director: David Fincher
Year: 1999
Reviewed: July 04, 2003
| Rating: |
|
 | |
| |
| |
| |
Four Course Meal-Highest Rating |
[Rating Definitions]
|
|
|
I give "Fight Club" a four-course meal rating.
"Fight Club"… what the hell can I say about this movie that it didn't already say? All I can tell you is this… if you haven't seen it, see it. Immediately! If you saw it and didn't like it, I probably won't like you. If you watched this film and it did not speak to you, then you're definitely someone with whom I do not wish to converse.
This movie spoke to me, it screamed at me, it sang songs in the dulcet tones of demons and the ice-evil wail of angels, it slashed my skin, bludgeoned my brain, and sliced big, wet, chunks from my heart. It bled and bled and bled, until there was nothing left to bleed for, and then it bled again. "Fight Club" is definitely as good as it gets. And admittedly, I haven't even read the book.
Instead of giving some long-winded, less than prophetic, sermon on how you will forever atrophy, grow numb in muscle and bone, and finally wilt, like so many dead and stinking flowers, if you don't see this movie, I will however give some of the choicest lines from this remarkable, wholly unique, incredibly ballsy, and imaginative film.
JACK (V.O.)
With a gun barrel between your teeth, you speak only in vowels.
PENGUIN
Slide.
JACK (V.O.)
The things you own, they end up owning you.
TYLER
If you add nitric acid to the soap-making process, you get nitroglycerin. With enough soap, you could blow up the world.
TYLER
The first rule of fight club is -- you don't talk about fight club. The second rule of fight club is -- you don't talk about fight club.
TYLER
We're the people who do your laundry and cook your food and serve your dinner. We guard you while you sleep. We control every part of your life. So don't fuck with us.
TYLER
The world I see -- you're stalking elk through the damp canyon forests around the ruins of Rockefeller Center. You wear leather clothes that will last you the rest of your life. You climb the wrist-thick vines that wrap the Sears Tower. You see tiny figures pounding corn and laying strips of venison on the empty car pool lane of the ruins of a super highway.
TYLER
You're not how much money you have in the bank. You're not the kind of car you drive. You're not the contents of your wallet. You're not your fuckin' khakis. You are the all-seeing, the all-dancing crap of the world.
And this, my friends, is how it is fucking done.
|
|
