Fight Club
Fight Club is a 1999 American film directed by David Fincher, and starring Brad Pitt, Edward Norton and Helena Bonham Carter. It is based on the 1996 novel by Chuck Palahniuk. Norton plays the unnamed narrator, who is discontented with his white-collar job. He forms a "fight club" with soap salesman Tyler Durden (Pitt), and becomes embroiled in a relationship with an impoverished but beguilingly attractive woman, Marla Singer (Bonham Carter). Palahniuk's novel was optioned by Fox 2000 Pictures producer Laura Ziskin, who hired Jim Uhls to write the film adaptation. Fincher was selected because of his enthusiasm for the story. He developed the script with Uhls and sought screenwriting advice from the cast and others in the film industry. It was filmed in and around Los Angeles from July to December 1998. He and the cast compared the film to Rebel Without a Cause (1955) and The Graduate (1967), with a theme of conflict between Generation X and the value system of advertising. Studio executives did not like the film, and they restructured Fincher's intended marketing campaign to try to reduce anticipated losses. Fight Club premiered at the 56th Venice International Film Festival on September 10, 1999, and was released in the United States on October 15, 1999 by 20th Century Fox. The film failed to meet the studio's expectations at the box office and received polarized reactions from critics. It was ranked as one of the most controversial and talked-about films of the 1990s. However, Fight Club later found commercial success with its home video release, establishing it as a cult classic and causing media to revisit the film. In 2009, on its tenth anniversary, The New York Times dubbed it the "defining cult movie of our time."
People are always asking me if I know Tyler Durden. 3 minutes. Ground zero. Would you like to say a few words to mark the occasion? With a gun barrel between your teeth, you speak only in vowels. I can't think of anything. For a second I totally forget about Tyler's whole controlled demolition thing, and I wonder how clean that gun is. Getting exciting now. That old saying, how you always hurt the one you love? Well, it works both ways.
Fight Club
We have front row seats for this theater of mass destruction. The demolitions committee of Project Mayhem wrapped the foundation columns of a dozen buildings with blasting gelatin. In 2 minutes, primary charges will blow base charges and a few square blocks will be reduced to smoldering rubble. I know this... because Tyler knows this. 2 1/2. Think of everything we've accomplished. And suddenly, I realize that all of this: The gun, the bombs, the revolution... has got something to do with a girl named Marla Singer.
Fight Club
Bob. Bob had bitch-tits. This was a support group for men with testicular cancer. The big moosey slobbering all over me, that was Bob. We're still men. Yes, we're men. Men is what we are. 8 months ago, Bob's testicles were removed. Then hormone therapy. He developed bitch-tits because his testosterone was too high, and his body upped the estrogen. And that was where I fit... They're gonna have to open up my pecks again and drain the fluid. Between those huge, sweating tits that hung enormous the way you'd think of God�s as big. OK. You cry now. No, wait. Back up. Let me start earlier.
Fight Club
When deep space exploration ramps up, it'll be the corporations that names everything: The I.B.M. Stellar sphere, the Microsoft Galaxy, Planet Starbucks. Gonna need you out of town a little more this week. We got some red flags to cover. It must've been Tuesday. He was wearing his cornflower-blue tie. You want me to deprioritize my current reports until you advise of a status upgrade? Make these your primary action items. Here's your flight coupons. Call me from the road if there's any snags. He was full of pep. Must have had his grandee latte enema.
Fight Club
Like so many others, I had become a slave to the IKEA nesting instinct. Uh, yes. I'd like to order the Erica Pekkary dust ruffles. Please hold. If I saw something clever Like a little coffee table in the shape of a yin-yang, I had to have it. The Klipske personal office unit, the Hovetrekke home exert-bike, or the Johannshamn sofa with the Strinne green stripe pattern. Even the Rizlampa wire lamps of environmentally friendly unbleached paper. I'd flip through catalogs and wonder: What kind of dining set defines me as a person? I had it all. Even the glass dishes with tiny bubbles and imperfections. Proof that they were crafted by the honest, simple, hard-working indigenous peoples of - Please hold. Wherever. I was holding. We used to read pornography. Now it was the Horchow collection. No, you can't die from insomnia. What about narcolepsy? I nod off. I wake up in strange places. I have no idea how I got there. You need to lighten up. Can you please just get me something? Red and blue Tuenois, lipstick-red Seconais. No. You need healthy natural sleep. Chew some Valerian root and get more exercise.
Fight Club
I always wanted 3 kids, 2 boys and a girl. Mindy wanted 2 girls and a boy. We never could agree on anything. Well, uh, you know, she- She had her first child last week, a... a girl. With-With her, uh, with her new husband. Fuck. Hey-Hey, thank God, you know. I'm-I'm glad for her. Because she deserves it.
Fight Club
Everyone, let's thank Thomas for sharing himself with us. Thank you, Thomas. I look around this room, and I see a lot of courage, and that gives me strength. We give each other strength. It's time for the one-on-ones. So let's all of us here follow Thomas' good example and really open ourselves up. Would you find a partner?
Fight Club
My name is Bob. Bob. Bob had been a champion body-builder. You know that chest-expansion program you see on late-night TV? That was his idea. I was a juicer. You know, using steroids. Diabonal and... Wistrol. Oh, they use that on racehorses, for Christ sakes. And now I'm bankrupt. I'm divorced. My 2 grown kids... won't even return my phone calls. Strangers with this kind of honesty make me go a big rubbery one.
Fight Club
Now we're going to open the green door, the heart chakra. I wasn't really dying. I wasn't host to cancer or parasites. I was the warm little center that the life of this world crowded around. Imagine your pain as a white ball of healing light. It moves over your body, healing you. Now, keep this going. Remember to breathe, and step forward through the back door of the room. Where does it lead? To your cave. Step forward into your cave. That's right. You're going deeper into your cave, and you're going to find your power animal.
Fight Club
Slide. Every evening, I died... and every evening, I was born again. Resurrected. Bob loved me because he thought my testicles were removed, too. Being there... pressed against his tits, ready to cry. This was my vacation. And she ruined everything. This is cancer, right? This chick Marla Singer did not have testicular cancer. She was a liar. She had no diseases at all. I had seen her at Free and Clear my blood parasites group Thursdays. Then at Hope, my bimonthly sickle cell circle. And again at Seize the Day, my tuberculosis Friday night. Marla, the big tourist. Her lie reflected my lie, and suddenly, I felt nothing. I couldn't cry. So once again, I couldn't sleep.
Fight Club