Fight Club: The Director's Cut
posted by Paul on 5/13/02
EDWARD NORTON is tied to a chair. He is bloody and bruised. A gun rests between his teeth.
EDWARD NORTON: (voiceover) With a gun-barrel between your slick dental work, you speak only in vowels. Or in deep, pop psychological voiceovers. Never before had I felt so close to death. Well, apart from that time Christian Slater took me for a spin in his new car. How did I get here? How did my life become so bad? Why did I agree to let Christian Slater drive me home? It wasn't good. It had never been good.
Director David Fincher's flashy camera work scrolls through the interior of Edward Norton's head...for no particular reason at all.
DIRECTOR DAVID FINCHER: Please love my fucking awesome camera angles and dim lighting. Bow to my technical mastery and grandeur.
EDWARD NORTON: (voiceover) It all started with "A River Runs Through It" and continued with "Seven". I was..addicted. Addicted to Brad Pitt movies. I needed..help. Late-night TV was disturbing. Too much Springer had left me jaded. Infomercials made me want to spend my hard-earned cash on poorly produced merchandise. What sort of juicer defined me as a person? Why my sudden longing to watch endless repeats of Richard Simmons' deal a meal? Nothing was filling the void, and even though my abs and buttock region were looking stellar and I'd lost a cool twelve pounds, I still couldn't sleep. This is my life and, even without AOL or chatroom access, I felt it was ending one second at a time.
Edward Norton sits before the doctor.
DOCTOR: So, you can't sleep, have frequent visions of Brad Pitt and you're addicted to consumerism?
EDWARD NORTON: I just need something to believe in. A cause. Anything. I'm a lost soul. Prescribe me some sleeping pills or give me some advice.
DOCTOR: No. Your condition is perfectly normal. Your need to be Brad Pitt has been absorbed from countless TV shows and gossip mags that tell you Brad Pitt defines perfection and that you should aspire to be him. I used to get visions of R.Kelly standing outside my window. No, wait, he was dating my twelve year-old daugther.
EDWARD NORTON: What's your opinion on this?
DOCTOR: You watch too many movies.
EDWARD NORTON: I want a second opinion.
DOCTOR: My second opinion is that you're creepy. Look, I treat Jennifer Anniston and she has the exact same problem. She's desperate to get pregnant because she knows it's her only hope of holding onto him. I'm giving her fertility treatment and diet pills....
EDWARD NORTON: I have hallucinations. I have no sense of identity and people call me the "narrator". What's up with that?
DOCTOR: Judging by our conversation here, I'd wager that you have deep-seated repression and are a borderline schizophrenic with underlying psychosis. Take some herbal supplements and chill out. Or, go make a website. The internet is full of wackjobs with false identities. You'll fit in!
EDWARD NORTON: I think my insomnia is caused by pain and a need to be punished. Why else would I watch "Freddy Got Fingered" ten times? I slept like a baby then. Granted, I did consume fifty Nyquil in order to end my life, but it's a plausible psychological link. Hey, what's that poster say?
DOCTOR: It says Meat Loaf is going to be attending a "Men with Bitch Tits" support group. Didn't you hear he lost both his testicles in a bungee accident? As a bonus, he's performing "I would do anything for Love" during the break. If you want to know pain, you should go there. Rather you than me.
EDWARD NORTON'S head is buried in Meat Loaf's cleavage. Ha!
EDWARD NORTON: (voiceover) Meat Loaf certainly had gargantuan titties. Not to mention disgusting dental hygiene.
MEAT LOAF: (sobbing) We're still men. Men with no nads.
EDWARD NORTON: Yes. Men is what we are. Now please release me from your vice-like grip and garlic breath.
EDWARD NORTON: (voiceover) Things started to improve. For the first time in six months, I actually slept more than an hour and I binned all the Dr Phil books I'd treasured. No more listening to a Hank Kingsley lookalike telling me how to be the perfect partner, how to channel my masculinity and all that latte enema. My visions of Brad Pitt were confined to wet dreams and soap. I felt...alive. Seeing Meat Loaf reminded me that, even though my situation was far from perfect, at least I wasn't a laughable ageing rocker with no nutsack. I am Norton's sense of superior acting.
EDWARD NORTON: (voiceover) It had to be a woman who'd ruin my fun. Here I was having visions of penguins and getting off on other people's pain. Now, SHE had to jeopardize my sleep pattern. I felt like blowing up the world and starting up a masochistic cult. SHE was sick, SHE ruined everything. And here I was thinking I had problems relating to chicks.
HELENA BONHAM CARTER: I'm not really sick. Like yourself, I find support groups cathartic. I'm also fucked up.
EDWARD NORTON: How can you respond to a voiceover?
HELENA BONHAM CARTER: You're talking to yourself. Anyway, this isn't good. We better stop seeing each other at these mournful gatherings. You take "Internet Addicts" on Monday and I'll take "Forum Troll Support" every second Tuesday. By the way, I'm weird and kooky. Wanna have degrading sex?
EDWARD NORTON: No, but I've a feeling that one of my identities might. My socially scuplted side is repulsed by you. Nevertheless, I find you interesting. Get ready to be a sex toy, just in case a plot twist happens. I'm Enrique's unsightly mole.
EDWARD NORTON is at work. He sits at his desk, bored and jaded, full of mid-Thirties male angst. We see his boss.
EDWARD NORTON: (voiceover) There he is in his Gucci suit. You can tell by the way he's uses his walk he's just had another delicious Starbucks Mocha. Hmm, Starbucks. The choice of a corporate generation.
DAVID FINCHER: By slamming capitalism and consumerism, I can ram in some perfect and unexpected product placement. I'm a genius. Starbucks sucks! Go buy Starbucks! Hehe.
BRAD PITT: The world is just a big sham and we should all die angst-ridden deaths.
EDWARD NORTON: Excuse me?
BRAD PITT: Oh, sorry. I was just reading the title for Linkin' Park's new album. I have a habit of reading out loud.
EDWARD NORTON: I didn't see you boarding the plane, my single-serving friend.
BRAD PITT: Maybe you just imagined me! How's it working out for you?
EDWARD NORTON: Having a split personality?
BRAD PITT: No, being a capitalist bitch who's become emasculated and has to resort to lame conversations with "single-serving friends". You are not your car, you're not your fucking Reeboks, you're not a half bad actor. Booyaka. I feel like starting my own cult.
EDWARD NORTON: (loudly) Would anyone like to swap seats?.... No?.... Uh, what is it you do, beside making inappropriate comments and poor career choices.
BRAD PITT: I make soap and silly agendas against the social fabric.
EDWARD NORTON: Cool. I make imaginary friends.
BRAD PITT: At least we're not Scientologists!
Both men chuckle.
EDWARD NORTON: (voiceover) When I got off the plane, I felt empty. It seemed as though I'd known Brad all my life. It's almost as though he was an extension of me. You know, like my subconcious being? Anyway, via some plot contrivance, my apartment was burned to the ground. Naturally, I decided to call Brad Pitt and he agreed to put me up rent-free. His house was hellish and the shower didn't work, but he did have cable and the full collection of "Friends" on DVD, so it wasn't all bad. We went to a bar, hung out in the bathroom and this is when IT happened. Mischief, mayhem and soap. Also, we came up with the idea for...
BRAD PITT: Fight Club! A place where people can, uhh, fight and stuff. This is what I, I mean WE, should do. Besides, it'll kill a few hours and give us some purpose. Hit me in the face.
EDWARD NORTON: That's disgusting. Granted, I hate women and am a largely sexless being, but a club like that is a little unsettling. I'll hit you just for making the suggestion.
He hits Brad. Brad hits him back.
EDWARD NORTON: Wow! I feel amazing. Please start brutalizing me and other sheep, master Pitt.
BRAD PITT: I'll play Techno music and make big, hypocritical speeches against the perils of conformity.
EDWARD NORTON: I can see it now: Writhing bodies, broken bones and dim basements. Fight Club will celebrate mindless violence and give an outlet to the disgruntled. This is our gift to the world!
A dim basement. Brad Pitt is standing in front of a congregation of Fight Club members. It is the first night.
BRAD PITT: Welcome to our little club, gentlemen. Welcome to Fight Club, the only place where you can beat people to a pulp and not get arrested. Well, apart from the Viper Room. This is a club for the disillusioned, the drone workers who want to unleash their anger on this shitty world of ours. For years, the system has told us we'd all be millionaires or movie gods...but we won't.
RANDOM SHEEP: You're Brad Pitt. You ARE a millionaire movie god.
BRAD PITT: How dare you shit on my boxing club! There are no rules here. The only rules are don't challenge my authority, question the dialogue and DO NOT talk about Fight Club. The other rule is DO NOT talk about Fight Club. Also, this is a no Homer club. Two guys to a fight, no shirts or shoes, the fight stops when the other guy goes stiff. If you get crippled, you'll have to make your own way home. No rabbit punches or ear nibbling. Aside from that, no rules. Fight the power!
Fincher shows a busted nose going through the screen and allows his camera to trek through the poor victim's brain.
EDWARD NORTON: (voiceover) Allow me to tell you something about Brad Pitt. For a few years, he'd been a renegade Frat boy who hated society and starred in boring movies. A few examples: before "Thelma and Louise" ,he worked as a projectionist and spliced a still of an erect penis into "Monster's Inc".
BRAD PITT: I'd always wanted to insert a penis into a family film. No, wait a sec!
EDWARD NORTON: (voiceover) People pretended they didn't see it...but they did, just like they kidded themselves "The Michael Richards Show" didn't happen. Brad also worked as a waiter, and would routinely piss into his customer's cups, fart in their soups and jerk off in their bread. All because he hated society and wanted to make changes. Yeah, and Eddie Murphy was really just giving that gender bender a ride home! And they say Warren Beatty is depraved?!
EDWARD NORTON: (voiceover) I beat myself up in front of my anal boss. I then bribed him into giving me a lump sum payoff. I quit my job. This is how we funded Fight Club. The club became stronger than ever. So strong, in fact, that Jared Leto and Meat Loaf joined the ranks. We were nearly sued by a nature fund, also called Fight Club, and there was a danger we'd have to rename ourselves "Ight" Club. Thankfully, we gave them lots of soap and a good beating and they dropped the suit.
HELENA BONHAM CARTER: Hi, I'm going to hang around in a semi-important supporting role. I want to die.
EDWARD NORTON: (voiceover) Oh yeah, Helena started hanging around again. And, by "hanging around", I mean having filthy sex with Brad Pitt. Brad liked to wear rubber gloves during sex. Ever since being with Gwyneth Paltrow, he felt dirty and germ-phobic. I guess that also explained why he hated society.
BRAD PITT: Say, these rubber gloves come in very useful. Not only are they kind to my skin, they enable me to polish the headboard. Why are you watching me having sex?
EDWARD NORTON: There wasn't much on TV and I was wondering how you'd incorporate the gloves. Sorry. We're out of fat to make soap, by the way. The Body Shop aren't going to be pleased.
BRAD PITT: That's ok. We'll just drain some of the fat from Meatloaf's breasts. Then, I'll burn your hand with acid as a mark of ownership. By the way, after I climax, I plan to draw up my plans for world domination. Go get me a pen and a post-it note.
EDWARD NORTON: (voiceover) And this is when we conceived Project Mayhem. We put out ads in USA Today for reliable people who'd help us cause some mayhem....
MEATLOAF: I promise to abide the army of Project Mayhem and people who fight. I will be a great asset with my large boobs and distinctive singing voice.
JARED LETO: I was in "My So-Called Life". I also have nice eyes. Please let me join your club.
BRAD PITT: Ok, membership is $2. Here's your starter packs and a free Mocha. I trust you two completely. Meatloaf, your first mission is to carry a bomb to TRL. I'm sick of those lame shoutouts and, let's face it, TRL represents the worst of what society has to offer. They may even let you sing. Don't let us down.
EDWARD NORTON: (voiceover) Sadly, Meatloaf didn't make it. He managed to get into the studio and even secured his own fly-on-the-wall TV series, but he was insulted by Eminem and gunned down by Snoop Doggy Dogg, although not necessarily in that order. They didn't even know he had a bomb. They were just clownin' and things got out of hand. Project Mayhem had suffered a major blow.
BRAD PITT: If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. I knew I shouldn't have trusted Meatloaf. Things are going to change!
EDWARD NORTON: (voiceover) And with that, Brad Pitt was gone. I couldn't find him anywhere. I searched every studio and soap shop in L.A. I even sneaked onto the Friends set. Matthew Perry gave me some sleeping tablets. The one who beat me into submission and opened my eyes to the many metaphors of soap had been washed out of my consciousness. I'm the audience's complete feeling of confusion.
EDWARD NORTON: (voiceover) And then it came to me, in a stream of well-edited Hollywood montages... I was Brad Pitt! Everyone told me so, we were never together in the same room at the same time and there was no record of him anywhere. It turned out it was I who starred in "The Mexican". I just tried to block it out and therefore created a new identity. He existed, like a cool "Star Trek" fan, only in the realms of fantasy. Or did he? After all, this is where we left off..with a gun on my tongue and the world about to collapse. I'm confused.
The gun fires...
EDWARD NORTON: (voiceover) I'm still alive but Brad Pitt, my evil alter ego, has been shattered. The message of this movie is...don't be a schizo. Also, women are manipulative, society sucks, commercialism is evil and...
DAVID FINCHER: Go buy Starbucks!
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