I’m breaking Fight Club’s first two rules here: i.e. don’t read this if you haven’t seen the movie.
Fight Club is angry. It’s nasty, filled with vitriol and it wants everyone to notice. It’s a bitter and bitterly funny exposé of a hyper-masculine fantasy, itself a critique of a so-called “IKEA lifestyle” whereby men are domesticated through consumer culture and societal expectations. Continue reading “Classic Review: Fight Club (1999)”
Se7en is less violent than I imagine most people would remember. Its ugly, damp, mordant atmosphere perfectly introduced with an intricately stylised, morbid and scattered opening credit sequence belies a lack of violence. The creative, grizzly murders left behind for detectives Somerset and Mills – Morgan Freeman and Brad Pitt – to dissect and analyse leave such an impression as to make us feel like we’ve actually witnessed the events. In David Fincher’s 1995 crime hellscape masterpiece, we are left to voyeuristically peer at what is left in the wake of violence. Continue reading “Classic Review: Se7en (1995)”