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Hey folks, Harry here. Ok, so the first review for FIGHT CLUB was back on February 25, 1999 here on AICN. It was a rave. Then yesterday, Variety reviews the film in Venice... another rave. Meanwhile, Bill Mechanic, head dude at FOX, has allegedly been heard to say that this is the best movie FOX has ever released. So... when and where would the backlash come in from? From across the see, our old friend Alexander Walker, remember him? He was the first to review EYES WIDE SHUT. Alexander Walker... the same man that led the charge to ban CRASH from England as well as some other heinious anti-film activities... But... while he may very well be a deluded person... he does have an opinion... and he's raging against the FIGHT CLUB in his THIS IS LONDON article about the Venice screening of FIGHT CLUB (CLICK HERE TO ACCESS ALEXANDER WALKER'S REVIEW) He rages about the film with sentences like, "The movie is not only anti-capitalism but anti-society, and, indeed, anti-God." And apparently... all the meaning of the film was lost upon him... but fear not... Our own Bosnian Witch Doctor was in place and has written up quite a piece on it. BUT... he also wrote quite a bit about other VENICE FILM FESTIVAL items like it's history, EYES WIDE SHUT, Etc. For your convenience, I've enlarged the TITLE for FIGHT CLUB into a much larger font so you can easily scan for it, if you need to. Have fun....

FIGHTS AND FASCISM IN LIDO, VENICE

Two days ago, curtain fell on the 56th edition of the Venice Film Festival, the review - or Mostra - of international cinema which had originally been established by Mussolini to showcase the superiority of Italian culture. Sure enough, its Fascist origins are more than evident in the ugly, grandiose design of the Casino, the building at Venice's Lido that this year housed most of the Festival's proceedings. (Last year, Casino's Sala Perla had been undergoing extensive refurbishments that have almost doubled its number of seats and turned it into the principal screening theater for films in competition and some of the more interesting titles from other programs.) I'm not sure how enjoying it was to be surrounded by totalitarian architecture in the eleven days of the Festival; I did get to see almost 50 films - out of those, more than 30 at the Sala Perla, so apparently I got used to it for the duration, although in the day since I returned to my shoddy abode in the wildernesses of the Balkans I have been extensively tired. Totalitarian forms, even those of regimes long gone, still oppress me, I guess...

But those kinds of sentiments were hardly in evidence at the Festival itself; only an Austrian film in competiton - NORDRAND by Barbara Albert - and a Croatian film touched upon the issues involved in the Balkan conflicts of this decade, but as both were rather pedestrian efforts, I won't waste your time expounding upon them. No, the Mostra was this time remarkably well-focused. Re-orchestrated by its new director, Alberto Barbera (last year, the previous director resigned, following a demand by Italian Ministry of Culture to award the Golden Lion to an Italian film), the Festival program included about 160 films, a sizeable downsize from previous years, all rather similar in theme and content - which was not wars, and definitely not politics. Thus the only real connection with what I still consider the main social upheaval of late 20th century was the person of Emir Kusturica, the enfant terrible of Yugoslav cinema, who had won the Best Director award in Venice just last year with the wildly comedic cop-out that is WHITE CAT, BLACK CAT. Kusturica was the chief of the jury that this time made sure the prizes went into the right hands, with but a few understandable omissions.

So it is with reasonable contentment that I look back on the 56th Mostra. While AICN is engrossed in the parallel unfolding of the Toronto Film Festival - made very attractive in recent years for many reasons, not the least being a much larger supply of funds - there were more than enough gems in store at the waterlogged event that is still, and always will be, the oldest running film festival in the world. Sure, Venice could have been better organized, and less expensive, and more kindly to non-Italians: if you wanted to get a CD soundtrack or a T-shirt from a film (and those goodies were in remarkably short supply), you practically didn't stand a chance if you didn't speak fluent Italian - and I don't...

Just about the only piece of merchandising I procured for myself was a pink bar of soap with a FIGHT CLUB logo on it - and having seen the film, I have given that soap the pride of place in my hovel. Not even some future introduction of running water will make me use it. I shall cherish it for my grandchildren, gathered around the cabin's hearth sometime around 2060 and listening in wide-eyed amazement how Grandpa actually saw the classic Fincher film at its world premiere, touching that soap in its cellophane wrapping with religious reverence... But wait; I'm getting ahead of myself. FIGHT CLUB effectively closed the Festival - there were several more titles screened afterwards, but of little merit - and a review should start at the beginning, right?

Maybe. I won't bother you with star appearances and ceremony, that's for sure. Oh, of course everyone was oh-so-happy to see the likes of Cruise&Kidman, Winslet, Diaz, Judd, Norton or Pitt - especially the gazillion members of the Italian press, who always seem more eager to hustle for autographs than to watch films - but I'm not going to waste time on the star system made flesh. Venice is in any case losing the spotlight as the industry launchpad for European releases of Hollywood blockbusters, so the stars were fewer and farther between than in previous years, and as they alwas do their usual press conference / interviews / screenings schtick - looking mightily annoyed for the most part - I'll leave it up to some other spy to expound in detail upon those 'gala' aspects of the Fest. Movies were what I went to see; and here is my spoiler-free account of those movies from the 56th Mostra that I firmly believe warrant the attention of the indomitable Mr. Knowles and his faithful readers. Part one, anyway.

So, without further ado, here are the films, listed in terms of their - well, coolness...

UBERCOOL

EYES WIDE SHUT - oh, but you know that already. Venice did provide the European premiere of the last piece of factual evidence to the divinity of Stanley; I took the time to see it twice within 12 hours of arriving to the Mostra, something I never do with such a crowded schedule, and I can't wait to see it again. What struck me the most about it - if there is any point in describing the already-discussed - is how wonderfully open the movie is at the end, how any kind of rational closure - especially the one given by Sidney Pollack's character at the end - actually fails to fully explain it... EWS is a magnum opus, alienating and engrossing at the same time, and the best depiction of a personal odyssey in the God's oeuvre. The orgy scene, which I understand you didn't get to see in its original form thanks to the wonderful Mr. Valenti - is competely enthralling: and Jocelyn Pook's music (based on some songs my mother used to sing to me in my childhood) deftly turns it into a theatre of mysteries. I do believe that the aborted initiation of Cruise's character will haunt me for years to come... as will the realization that God is dead, that cold, slimy feeling I got when the shivers ended after leaving the cinema. EWS is a brilliant piece that will outlive its detractors to claim its position in the pantheon of the best films of the decade; more than anything, its worth was in amply in evidence in almost all other films screened in Venice, since it introduced several themes that were evident throughout.

Of course, I'm talking about Trials&Tribulations of Married Life (herefrom referred to as Theme #1), and Identity Crisis (Theme #2). Those two issues, along with Abusive Parents (Issue #3) formed the bulk of the subject matter at Venice this year - and showed how a "hermit" in "exile", who hadn't made a film in 12 years, was still very much in touch with the spirit of our times. But whereas other films dealt with those themes in a particular time and place, Kubrick has - by virtue of recreating New York in London, and refusing to bow to the trends of the day, from cinematography to editing - made a truly timeless piece which won't cease to amaze and provoke with the passage of time. Gods do have that knack for immortality, after all...

FIGHT CLUB. Well, that's what you want to read about, after all, right? Let me be the first to say, boys and girls, that you better get ready for what Fincher has in store for you, because here is the only other film from this year's crop that I believe with absolute certainty will be looked upon as a hands-down classic down the time. And I'm not talking only about the selection at Venice, I'm talking about 1999 as a whole. Sure, I haven't seen most of the stuff Harry is so turned on by, but FIGHT CLUB did leave me completely stunned and mesmerized, just like SEVEN did some four years ago... You know the feeling, the one you get all too rarely, the feeling that you have seen an unmistakeably defining piece of cinema that will outlive its theatrical run to really claim its place in film history. SEVEN had that quality - and FIGHT CLUB is a superior film.

Now, let me digress for a moment. I had seen THE MATRIX the day before I left for Venice, and after all the hype AICN and other media - web-based or not - generated around it, I was really prepared to see the masterwork of the caliber I just described. Bud the Wachowski's film failed me, albeit gloriously: I couldn't get over the contrast between the amateurish, mind-numbingly slow and overexplanatory dialogue sequences, and the hyperactive action setpieces; more than that, I couldn't get over the fact that this kind of story has been done much more smartly and much more involvingly in any number of cyberpunk stories and novels of the last 20 years - 40, if you count in Philip K. Dick. THE MATRIX was, thus, just a spectacular rehash of concepts and themes done better elsewhere, and it did leave me cold. Being cool is not just a function of adrenaline, which THE MATRIX sure knows how to pump; but then, I don't expect even Harry to agree with me here, even if I do assure him that I love great action scenes as much as the next guy, perhaps even more.

What FIGHT CLUB does in this context is provide the same level of viscereal impact (no, higher: NOBODY frames and shoots and cuts with quite the same mastery as Fincher does) with an equal level of intellectual complexity. We're not talking about some laughably stupid McGuffin as 'robots creating a virtual universe so their human batteries would have somewhere to THINK to live' -- which never even answers a) what is wrong with nuclear power plants, b) when have we been really getting our electricity from the sun anyway, and c) why do human batteries even need higher brain functions -- that can bring down any concept, regardless of any mastery of its execution. No: THE MATRIX is a cool film, but bad SF; FIGHT CLUB gives it a run for its money as far as visuals go, but achieves something richer and stranger. In short, it's a blindingly innovative comment on our times, our pre-milennial anxieties, frustrations and projections, the role which violence plays in America today, and ways in which perception shapes the world around us. Everything that THE MATRIX (and DARK CITY, another splendid film defiled by bad SF) tried to say, FIGHT CLUB shouts out loud, probably because Fincher&Co. were smart enough to understand that the whole concept of "the world is not what it seems to be" is not primarily a science-fiction concept, but rather an age-old philosophical one.

Of course, everyone's going to be talking about violence and violence only upon the film's release. There's no escaping that, thanks largely to Valenti-inspired misinterpretations of movie violence that the press have been feeding upon ever since Columbine happened. But the real issue - which FIGHT CLUB addresses, unlike most previous violent films (and their detractors) is: where does this violence come from? What makes it so appealing, and conversely so appaling, in the world of today? Previously limited to governments and criminals, violence has now become the domain of high school students and militant citizens: how come? What is it in today's world that makes it generate violence on those frighteningly quotidian levels? We're not at the level of Dirty Harry anymore: violence is no longer a containable threat. It has become something vastly more threatening: perhaps the only way a powerless individual can still face the system. More than that: the only way a person who lives in today's mind-numbing, hypocritical, all-pervading, gray, corporate world can still feel powerful and alive. And, consequently: violence is the ultimate trip.

As anyone who has read the Chuck Palahniuk novel can attest to, there is no way FIGHT CLUB actually endorses any of those views. But it does represent them and argue about them in a very, very compelling way: it says that violence seems to be the only way out of impotence for the familiar overeducated, overtly lucid Generation X-er. Everything that had seemed limp and lifeless about Generation X actually does have a lot of frustration just waiting to start bursting from its seams: FIGHT CLUB depicts, elaborates and takes this to unexpected heights, thanks to the unique simbiosis of cinematic and narrative genius that Fincher has finally proven he has.

Why is this better than SEVEN? Because it features Meat Loaf with a HUGE PAIR OF TITS?

No: it is denser, faster, better shot and edited than literally anything in contemporary cinema, and it does feature a plot twist to end all plot twists, leaving the likes of THE MATRIX wallowing in the implications of the genre it does not fully understand. But this is not a plot twist that puts a different spin on just the film and its internal issues, the way even SEVEN or THE GAME did: this twist comes earlier in the narrative, a good half-hour before the end, and it forces you to think outside of the bundaries of the movie itself, to reinvent for yourself your own comprehension of the world you live in. The parallel impotence and omnipotence of the American male (but not only male, just most prominently male) have never had such a compelling parallel life onscreen: this is everything from Freud and Jung to Douglas Copland and Timothy McVeigh rolled together in a tight, explosive package.

As for the how's: Jeff Cronenweth's cinematography is more brilliant than anything seen so far in a Fincher film: no small feat, considering those films were all visual benchmarks. Simply put, his images are clearer, better composed and more luminous even than the excellent works by a Darius Khondji or a Harris Savides, and even when they are cut at a machine-gun pace, they never fail to profoundly enrich the story and ambiance.

Rob Bottin's work surpasses even the victims in SEVEN for its stark realism: I don't honestly know if he switched to silicone or is still using foam latex, but his appliances do look completely convincing, and Fincher trusts them to the point where they become storytellers of equal stature. His is the only work that will give the TPM team a run for their money at the Oscars, and Bottin does deserve to be recognized for more than TOTAL RECALL anyway. Alex McDowell, the designer of THE CROW, manages this time to completely distance himself from artificiality and create the richest canvas for a Fincher movie yet...

And, finally, the music. Apparently, there is not a soundtrack to FIGHT CLUB yet - at least, I didn't get it, perhaps because of the language barrier. In any case, I won't mind shelling out $20 (the price of a CD here) for it, when it hits the stores: the work of The Dust Brothers here - Michael Simpson and John King - really provides the first viable aural alternative to traditional orchestral scoring thus far. Lukas Kendall and Film Score Monthly regulars will embrace it, I hope: I've long had the feeling that samples and dubs are the most pliable form of contemporary music, and thus the one most suited to scoring, but I haven't heard them utilized in a film properly until now. So even here FIGHT CLUB is groundbreaking.

The actors - let's just say that Pitt has never been more charismatic and devillish, Norton more compelling, and Bonham-Carter so, well, contemporary. Anything more, and I'd be giving away the plot, and depriving you of some true treats.

Anyway, FIGHT CLUB is engrossing from the very first shot - and boy, is that a shot: visual effects sporadically betray their CG origins - but just barely so. The work of Blue Sky, Buf Compagnie, Toybox, Digital Domain (the said main title, done by Kevin Mack), EFilm and Gray Matter is indeed very competent, but at the same time is not used for spectacle only: Fincher, the ILM veteran, uses his FX as narrative devices more constantly and more innovatively than just about any other contemporary director.

Throw in a dark, dark, twisted and decidedly un-PC sense of humor (especially in the first few reels - & reel changes), and you get a film that is cool, cool and smart, smart. Go see it for yourself.

COOL

But this section will have to wait a day or two. I have to do justice to titles such as Woody Allen's SWEET AND LOWDOWN (his least self-centered work in ages), Stephan Elliot's EYE OF THE BEHOLDER with The Ewan and Ashley Judd, Harmony Korine's subversive Dogme 95 title JULIEN DONKEY-BOY, and other stuff like BEING JOHN MALKOVICH which some of you have already seen. Right now, I have to rush off to a production meeting at the local Bogumil temple, so expect another report in a day or two.

Signing off,

Your Bosnian Witch Doctor