I remember when it released, not because I watched it in its theatrical run, but because talk of it impregnated my high school campus, hijacking every conversation in the cafeteria, permeating throughout the halls with quotes from Brad Pitt’s character, Tyler Durden, on the mouths of teenage philosophers who quickly purchased the stylish posters that soon adorned the walls of their rooms, and began exercise routines to fashion their bodies in Durden’s image. The film was Fight Club
Though I had not watched the film yet, I hated it. If the message was, as my peers who had seen it declared: we should violently overthrow this society, I wanted none of it. Years later, I decided to give it a watch. It was directed by David Fincher, one of the most thoughtful, insightful, and talented directors’s out. Se7en was a masterpiece; Zodiac the same; and The Social Network solidified Fincher as one of the greats. Why shouldn’t I give this film a chance?
I watched it and was amazed at how badly I had prejudged this piece of cinema. After watching it, I was reminded of my tendency toward groupthink; I wanted to be seen as more mature than my peers who loved it for the wrong reasons, and in so doing I hated it – all for the wrong reasons.
I hated it for much the same reasons as the Esquire Culture Editor, Matt Miller, did in his piece where he decries the film for the toxic masculinity he thinks it preaches.
The article itself serves as a prime example of a writer missing the entire point of the film. In his lede, he tells of fantasizing over the film, namely over the physique of one of the leads, Brad Pitt’s character, Tyler Durden. And not only that, but what he saw as the message of the film: violence as a means to resist consumerism. The rest of the piece is the present him castigating his former self, along with the film he most identified with as a youth, Fight Club.
Reading a man virtue signal by committing verbal self-castration is fascinating in the same way as watching an episode of the Office, the one where Dwight wales on himself. Before you condemn your former self, especially so openly, it’s best to first ensure it is for the right reasons.
He writes:
“Fight Club popularized a version of toxic machismo that has been co-opted by online trolls and the alt-right. It’s a film guilty of horrible misogyny.”
He commits the fallacy of conflation: the film is not guilty of misogyny just because those who didn’t get the message of the film use it for their own misogynistic purposes.
If you think the film’s message is found in Durden’s pithy one-liners, you’re wrong. In the end, the Narrator, Edward Norton, comes to the realization that what he’s doing is wrong, and after realizing his schizophrenia, “kills” his alter ego to end it. The film presents this as a good thing. He realized his error, he understands all Durden wanted was chaos and, in the end, condemns Durden’s message, which is seen in the closing shot of him holding Marla’s hand. Embracing a monogamous relationship, the bedrock of society, is his final act of condemnation.
Miller’s piece resembles the backlash from the latest controversial film, Joker. Durden and the Joker are bad guys. And, if I may compare it to another film, Black Panther, bother films’ villains raise needed questions about consumerism and race; however, both films condemn their villains’ violent actions.
When the end of the film clearly presents Durden’s actions as toxic, Miller loses his justification when he writes the following: “The visual storytelling is misleading and the actual satire is confusing and ineffective … You’ll understand the point of view in the first five minutes, and by the end, nothing has changed … It didn’t ask it’s viewers to think, as much as it stoked their anger.”
Nothing has changed? Durden turns from the protagonist to the antagonist. Again, the Narrator realizes this, “kills” him, and embraces what Durden decried. It’s because it asked its viewers to think, that some will inevitably miss the message. In the same manner as those who think Walter White is the hero of Breaking Bad mistook the message of that series, those who didn’t take the time to think, mistake Durden’s message as the film’s message.
Miller tells readers that we have progressed in the 20 years since its release, that we don’t need this film any longer with its “regressive” form of masculinity. He is right in this: we should leave Durden’s view of manhood behind. As
emotional, rational, created beings, we should not seek to make ourselves in Durden’s image.
As the Apostle Paul, in the first chapter of his letter to the Romans, condemns those who cast off the image of God they were created in and traded it in favor of worshipping themselves and beasts, so too does Fincher’s film condemn those who desire to follow in Durden’s footsteps.
Matt Miller decries the toxic masculinity he thinks the film purports; however, in his gross misdiagnosis and subsequent condemnation of the film, he falls into another, just as insidious, form of toxic masculinity: the man who fails to stop and think.
