Starring: Edward Norton, Brad Pitt, Helena Bonham Carter, Meat Loaf, Zach Grenier, Richmond Arquette, Jared Leto, Holt McCallany, Eion Bailey, Evan Mirand, Thom Gossom Jr., Peter Iacangelo

OUR RATING: ★★★★★

Story:

Drama based on the novel of the same name by Chuck Palahniuk and directed by David Fincher. The story centers on a nameless depressed man, the narrator (Edward Norton), who decides to attend support groups in an attempt to subdue his emotional state and relieve his insomniac state. However, when he meets a strange soap salesman named Tyler Durden (Brad Pitt), he soon finds himself living in his squalid house after his perfect apartment is destroyed. The two bored men form an underground club with strict rules and fight other men who are fed up with their mundane lives. Together the two men spiral out of control and engage in competitive rivalry for love and power. When the narrator is exposed to the hidden agenda of Tyler’s fight club, he must accept the awful truth that Tyler may not be who he says he is.

REVIEWS

 

Our Favorite Quotes:

‘I found freedom. Losing all hope was freedom.’ – The Narrator (Fight Club) Click To Tweet ‘This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time.’ – The Narrator (Fight Club) Click To Tweet ‘I say never be complete. I say stop being perfect. I say let's evolve, let the chips fall where they may.’ – Tyler (Fight Club) Click To Tweet ‘The things you own, end up owing you.’ – Tyler (Fight Club) Click To Tweet ‘It's only after we've lost everything that we're free to do anything.’ – Tyler (Fight Club) Click To Tweet ‘We've all been raised on television to believe that one day we'd all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won't. And we're slowly learning that fact. And we're very, very pissed off.’ – Tyler (Fight Club) Click To Tweet ‘People do it every day. They talk to themselves. They see themselves as they'd like to be.’ – Tyler Click To Tweet

 

Best Quotes   (Total Quotes: 116)


 

[first lines; Tyler is pointing a gun into the Narrator’s mouth]
Narrator: [voice over] People are always asking me if I know Tyler Durden.
Tyler: Three minutes. This is it: ground zero. Would you like to say a few words to mark the occasion?
Narrator: …i…ann…iinn…ff…nnyin…
Narrator: [voice over] With a gun barrel between your teeth, you speak only in vowels.
[Tyler removes the gun from the Narrator’s mouth]
Narrator: I can’t think of anything.
Narrator: [voice over] For a second I totally forgot about Tyler’s whole controlled demolition thing and I wonder how clean that gun is.


 

Narrator: [voice over] That old saying, how you always hurt the one you love, well, it works both ways.


 

Tyler: Two and a half. Think of everything we’ve accomplished.
Narrator: [voice over] 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.


 

[Narrator is engulfed by a weeping Bob in an intense embrace]
Narrator: [voice over] Bob. Bob had bitch tits. This was a support group for men with testicular cancer. The big moosie slobbering all over me, that was Bob.
Bob: We’re still men.
Narrator: Yes, we’re men. Men is what we are.
Narrator: [voice over] Eight 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…
Bob: They’re going to have to open my pecs again to drain the fluid.
Narrator: [voice over] Between those huge sweating tits that hung enormous, the way you’d think of God’s as big.


 

[Narrator, sleepy, stands over a copy machine]
Narrator: [voice over] With insomnia, nothing’s real. Everything is far away. Everything is a copy, of a copy, of a copy.


 

Narrator: [voice over] When deep space exploration ramps up, it will be corporations that name everything: The IBM Stellar Sphere. The Microsoft Galaxy. Planet Starbucks.


 

Richard Chesler: going to need you out-of-town a little more this week. We’ve got some “red-flags” to cover.
Narrator: [voice over] It must’ve been Tuesday. He was wearing his “cornflower-blue” tie.


 

[about his boss, Richard Chesler]
Narrator: [voice over] He was full of pep. Must’ve had his grande latte enema.


 

[sitting on a toilet talking on the phone ordering IKEA furniture]
Narrator: [voice over] Like so many others, I had become a slave to the IKEA nesting instinct.


 

Narrator: [voice over] I’d flip through catalogs and wonder “what kind of dining set defines me as a person?”


 

[Narrator sits before an intern in a doctor’s office, who studies him with bemusement]
Intern: No, you can’t die from insomnia.
Narrator: What about narcolepsy? I nod off, I wake up in strange places, I have no idea how I got there.
Intern: You need to lighten up.


 

[after going to his first support group meeting for Testicular Cancer]
Narrator: [voice over] And this is how I met the big moosie, his eyes already shrink-wrapped in tears. Knees together, those awkward little steps.
[Bob walks towards Narrator and extends his hand]
Bob: My name is Bob.
Narrator: Bob!
[Bob takes Narrator into an embrace]
Narrator: [voice over] Bob had been a champion body-builder. You know that chest expansion program you see on late night TV? That was his idea.
Bob: I was a juicer. You know. Using steroids. Diabonol, Wisterol, they use that for racehorses for Christ sakes. And now I’m bankrupt, I’m divorced, my two grown kids, they won’t even return my calls…
Narrator: [voice over] Strangers with this kind of honesty make me go a big rubbery one.
[Bob breaks into sobbing and embraces Narrator tightly. After a long moment of crying, Bob raises up his head, looks at Narrator’s nametag]
Bob: Go ahead, Cornelius. You can cry.
[Narrator begins to cry and tighten his arms around Bob]
Narrator:[voice over] And then something happened. I let go. Lost in oblivion, dark and silent and complete. I found freedom. Losing all hope was freedom.


 

[after admitting his addiction to attending Support Groups]
Narrator: [voice over] 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.


 

Narrator: [voice over] Every evening I died, and every evening I was born again, resurrected.


 

[Bob and Narrator are in an embrace]
Narrator: [voice over] 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.
[Marla Singer enters, smoking]
Marla: This is cancer, right?
Narrator: [voice over] 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 parasite group Thursdays. Then at “Hope”, my bi-monthly sickle cell circle. And again at “Seize the Day”, my tuberculous Friday night. Marla, the big tourist. Her lie reflected my lie. Suddenly, I felt nothing. I couldn’t cry, so once again I couldn’t sleep.


 

Narrator: [voice over] When you have insomnia, you’re never really asleep and you’re never really awake.


 

[at one of his Support Group meeting]
Narrator: [voice over] Oh, yeah, Chloe. Chloe looked the way Meryl Streep’s skeleton would look if you made it smile and walk around the party being extra nice to everybody.
Chloe: Well, I’m still here. But I don’t know for how long. That’s as much certainty as anyone can give me. But I’ve got some good news: I no longer have any fear of death. But I am in a pretty lonely place. No one will have sex with me. I’m so close to the end, and all I want is to get laid for the last time. I have pornographic movies in my apartment, and lubricants, and amyl nitrite…
[the group leader takes control of the mic]
Group Leader: Thank you, Chloe. Everyone, let’s thank Chloe.


 

[whilst trying to meditate in of the Support Group meetings]
Narrator: [voice over] If I had a tumor, I’d named it Marla. Marla, the little scratch on the roof of your mouth that would heal if only you could stop tonguing it, but you can’t.


 

Narrator: Hey. We need to talk.
Marla: Sure.
Narrator: I’m on to you.
Marla: What?
Narrator: Yeah. You’re a faker. You’re not dying.
Marla: Sorry?
Narrator: In the Tibetan philosophy, Sylvia Plath sense of the word. I know we’re all dying. But you’re not dying the way Chloe back there is dying.
Marla: So?
Narrator: So, you’re a tourist. Okay? I’ve seen you? I saw you at melanoma, I saw you at tuberculosis and I saw you at testicular cancer!
Marla: I saw you practicing this.
Narrator: Practicing what?
Marla: Telling me off. Is it going as well as you hoped…? [reads his nametag] “Rupert”?
Narrator: I’ll expose you.
Marla: Go ahead. I’ll expose you.


 

Narrator: When people think you’re dying, they really, really listen to you, instead of just…
Marla: …instead of just waiting for their turn to speak?


 

[following Marla out of the Support Group meeting]
Narrator: Hold on, I’ll tell you; we’ll split up the week, okay? You take lymphoma, and tuberculosis…
Marla: You take tuberculosis. My smoking doesn’t go over at all.
Narrator: Okay, good, fine. Testicular cancer should be no contest, I think.
Marla: Well, technically, I have more of a right to be there than you. You still have your balls.
Narrator: You’re kidding.
Marla: I don’t know, am I?
Narrator: No, no! What do you want?
Marla: I’ll take the parasites.
Narrator: You can’t have both the parasites, but while you take the blood parasites…
Marla: I want brain parasites.
Narrator: I’ll take the blood parasites. But I’m going to take the organic brain dementia, okay?
Marla: I want that.
Narrator: You can’t have the whole brain, that’s…
Marla:: So far you have four, I only have two!
Narrator: Okay. Take both the parasites. They’re yours. Now we both have three…


 

[following Marla into the thrift shop]
Marla: So, we each have three, that’s six. What about the seventh day? I want ascending bowel cancer.
Narrator: [voice over] The girl had done her homework.
Narrator: No. No, I want bowel cancer.
Marla:: That’s your favorite too? Tried to slip it by me, eh?
Narrator: Look we’re going to split it, Okay. Take the first and third Sunday of the month.
Marla: Deal.
[they shake hands]
Marla: Looks like this is goodbye.
Narrator: Well, let’s not make a big thing out of it.
[Marla walks out the shop not looking back]
Marla: How’s this for not making a big thing?


 

Narrator: Marla’s philosophy of life is that she might die at any moment. The tragedy, she said, was that she didn’t.


 

[Narrator wakes up in Airplane cabin]
Narrator: [voice over] You wake up at SeaTac, SFO, LAX. You wake up at O’Hare, Dallas-Fort Worth, BWI. Pacific, mountain, central. Lose an hour, gain an hour. This is your life, and it’s ending one minute at a time. You wake up at Air Harbor International. If you wake up at a different time, in a different place, could you wake up as a different person?


 

Narrator: Everywhere I travel, tiny life. Single-serving sugar, single-serving cream, single pat of butter. The microwave Cordon Bleu hobby kit. Shampoo-conditioner combos, sample-packaged mouthwash, tiny bars of soap. The people I meet on each flight? They’re single-serving friends.


 

Narrator: [voice over] Every time the plane banked too sharply on take-off or landing, I prayed for a crash, or a mid-air collision, anything.
[we see the plane having a mid-air collision]
Narrator: [voice over] Life insurance pays off triple if you die on a business trip.


 

[Narrator wakes up and sees Tyler sitting next to him on the same flight. They start talking]
Tyler: You know why the put oxygen masks on planes?
Narrator: So you can breathe.
Tyler: Oxygen, gets you high. In a catastrophic emergency, we’re taking giant, panicked breaths, suddenly you become euphoric, docile, you accept your fate.


 

Narrator: What do you do?
Tyler: What do you mean?
Narrator: What do you do for a living?
Tyler: Why? So you can pretend like you’re interested?


 

[to the Narrator]
Tyler: You have a kind of sick desperation in your laugh.


 

Tyler: Did you know that if you mix equal parts of gasoline and frozen orange juice concentrate you can make napalm?
Narrator: No, I did not know that. Is that true?
Tyler: That’s right. One could make all kinds of explosives, using simple household items.
Narrator: Really?
Tyler: If one were so inclined.
Narrator: Tyler, you are by far the most interesting single-serving friend I’ve ever met. See I have this thing: everything on a plane is single-serving, even the…
Tyler: Oh I get it, it’s very clever.
Narrator: Thank you.
Tyler: How’s that working out for you?
Narrator: What?
Tyler: Being clever.
Narrator: Great.
Tyler: Keep it up then. Right up.
[Tyler gets up from his seat]
Tyler: Now a question of etiquette: As I pass, do I give you the ass or the crotch?


 

[in the airport baggage claim area, the Narrator has lost his luggage]
Narrator: Was it ticking?
Airport Security Officer: Actually throwers don’t worry about ticking because modern bombs don’t tick.
Narrator: Sorry, throwers?
Airport Security Officer: Baggage handlers. But, when a suitcase vibrates, then the throwers got to call the police.
Narrator: My suitcase was vibrating?
Airport Security Officer: Nine times out of ten it’s an electric razor, but every once in a while, it’s a dildo. Of course it’s company policy never to imply ownership in the event of a dildo. We have to use the indefinite article “A dildo”, never “Your dildo”.
Narrator: I don’t own…
[Security Officer waves Narrator off]


 

[Narrator arrives to see his condo has been blown up with all his belongings burned and scattered everywhere]
Narrator: Home was a condo on the fifteenth floor of a filing cabinet for widows and young professionals. The walls were solid concrete. A foot of concrete is important when your next-door neighbor lets their hearing aid go and have to watch game-shows at full volume. Or when a volcanic blast of debris that used to be your furniture and personal effects blows out of your floor-to-ceiling windows and sails flaming into the night. I suppose these things happen.


 

[Tyler and Narrator are at a bar discussing the destruction of Narrator’s condo]
Tyler: You know man it could be worse. A woman could cut off your penis while you’re sleeping and toss it out the window of a moving car.
Narrator: There’s always that. I don’t know, it’s just, when you buy furniture, you tell yourself: “That’s it, that’s the last sofa I’m going to need. Whatever else happens, I’ve got that sofa, problem handled.” I had it all. I had a stereo that was very decent, a wardrobe that was getting very respectable. I was close to being complete.
Tyler: Shit, man, now it’s all gone.
Narrator: All gone.


 

Tyler Durden: Do you know what a duvet is?
Narrator: It’s a comforter…
Tyler Durden: It’s a blanket. Just a blanket. Now why do guys like you and I know what a duvet is? Is this essential to our survival, in the hunter-gatherer sense of the word? No. What are we then?
Narrator: Uh, consumers?
Tyler: Right. We’re consumers. We’re by-products of a lifestyle obsession. Murder, crime, poverty, these things don’t concern me. What concerns me is celebrity magazines, television with five hundred channels, some guy’s name on my underwear. Rogaine, Viagra, Olestra.
Narrator: Martha Stewart.
Tyler: Fuck Martha Stewart. Martha’s polishing the brass of the Titanic. It’s all going down, man! So fuck off, with your sofa units and your string green stripe patterns. I say never be complete. I say stop being perfect. I say let’s evolve, let the chips fall where they may. But that’s me, I could be wrong, maybe it’s a terrible tragedy.
Narrator: No. It’s just, it’s just stuff, not tragedy.
Tyler: Well, you did lose a lot of versatile solutions for modern living.
Narrator: Fuck, you’re right!
[Tyler offers him cigarettes]
Narrator: No, I don’t smoke.


 

Narrator: My insurance is probably going to cover it, so.
[Tyler gives Narrator a look]
Narrator: What?
Tyler: The things you own, end up owing you.


 

Narrator: Oh, it’s late. Hey, thanks for the beer.
Tyler: Yeah, man.
Narrator: I should find a hotel.
Tyler: [in disbelief] What?
Narrator: What?
Tyler: A hotel?
Narrator: Yeah.
Tyler: Just ask, man.
Narrator: What are you talking about?
Tyler: [laughs] Three pitchers of beer, and you still can’t ask.
Narrator: What?
Tyler: You call me because you need a place to stay.
Narrator: Oh, hey, no, no, no, I didn’t mean…
Tyler: Yes, you did. So just ask. Cut the foreplay and just ask man.
Narrator: Would that be a problem?
Tyler: Is it a problem for you to ask?
Narrator: Can I stay at your place?
Tyler: Yeah.
Narrator: Thanks
Tyler: But I want you to do me a favor.
Narrator: Yeah, sure.
Tyler: I want you to hit me as hard as you can.
Narrator: What?
Tyler: [talking very slow] I want you to hit me as hard as you can.


 

[talking about Tyler Durden’s job as a projectionist splicing frames of pornography into family films]
Narrator: So when the snooty cat, and the courageous dog, with the celebrity voices meet for the first time in reel three, that’s when you’ll catch a flash of Tyler’s contribution to the film.
[we see the audience is watching the film, the pornography flashes for a split second]
Narrator: Nobody knows that they saw it. But they did.
Tyler: A nice, big cock.
[we see several audience members look rattled, a little girl starts to cry]
Narrator: Even a hummingbird couldn’t catch Tyler at work.


 

Narrator: Well, what do you want me to do? You just want me to hit you?
Tyler: C’mon, do me this one favor.
Narrator: Why?
Tyler: Why? I don’t know why; I don’t know. Never been in a fight. You?
Narrator: No, but that, that’s a good thing.
Tyler: No, it is not. How much can you know about yourself if you’ve never been in a fight? I don’t want to die without any scars. So come on; hit me before I lose my nerve.
Narrator: Oh God. This is crazy.
Tyler: So go crazy. Let ‘er rip.
Narrator: I don’t know about this.
Tyler: I don’t either. Who gives a shit? No one’s watching. What do you care?
Narrator: Whoa, wait, this is crazy. You want me to hit you?
Tyler: That’s right.
Narrator: What, like in the face?
Tyler: [laughing] Surprise me.
Narrator: This is so fucking stupid.
[Narrator swings, connects against Tyler’s head]
Tyler: Oh. Motherfucker! You hit me in the ear!
Narrator: Well, Jesus, I’m sorry.
Tyler: Ow, Christ, why the ear, man?
Narrator: Aw, I fucked it up…
Tyler: No, that was perfect!


 

[Narrator is reading a Magazine in the dilapidated house Tyler and him are living in]
Tyler: Hey, man, what are you reading?
Narrator: Listen to this. It’s an article written by an organ in first person. “I am Jack’s medulla oblongata, without me Jack could not regulate his heart rate, blood pressure or breathing!” There’s a whole series of these! “I am Jill’s nipples”. “I am Jack’s Colon.”


 

Narrator: [voice over] After fighting, everything else in your life got the volume turned down.
[Narrator is cleaning blood from his mouth with a handkerchief. when his boss enters]
Narrator: [to his boss] What?
Narrator: [voice over] You can deal with anything.


 

Tyler: If you could fight anyone, who would you fight?
Narrator: I’d fight my boss, probably.
Tyler: Really?
Narrator: Yeah, why? Who would you fight?
Tyler: I’d fight my dad.


 

Tyler: My dad never went to college, so it was real important that I go.
Narrator: Sounds familiar.
Tyler: So I graduate, I call him up long distance, I say “Dad, now what?” He says, “Get a job.”
Narrator: Same here.
Tyler: Now I’m 25, make my yearly call again. I say Dad, “Now what?” He says, “I don’t know, get married.”
Narrator: I can’t get married, I’m a 30 year old boy.
Tyler: We’re a generation of men raised by women. I’m wondering if another woman is really the answer we need.


 

[sitting in a meeting at work]
Narrator: [voice over] Monday mornings, all I could do was think about next week.


 

Narrator: [voice over] You can swallow a pint of blood before you get sick.


 

Tyler: Gentlemen! Welcome to Fight Club. The first rule of Fight Club is: you do not talk about Fight Club. The second rule of Fight Club is: you DO NOT talk about Fight Club! Third rule of Fight Club: Someone yells “stop!”, goes limp, taps out, the fight is over. Fourth rule: only two guys to a fight. Fifth rule: one fight at a time, fellas. Sixth rule: no shirts, no shoes. Seventh rule: fights will go on as long as they have to. And the eighth and final rule: if this is your first night at fight club, you have to fight.


 

Narrator: [voice over] Sometimes all you could hear were the flat, hard packing sounds over the yelling, or the wet choke when someone caught their breath and sprayed. You weren’t alive anywhere like you were there. But fight club only exists in the hours between when fight club starts and when fight club ends. Even if I could tell someone they had a good fight, I wouldn’t be talking to the same man. Who you were in fight club is not who you were in the rest of the world. A guy came to fight club for the first time, his ass was a wad of cookie dough. After a few weeks, he was carved out of wood.


 

Narrator: If you could fight any celebrity, who would you fight?
Tyler: Alive or dead?
Narrator: Doesn’t matter, who’d be tough?
Tyler: Hemingway. You?
Narrator: Shatner. I’d fight William Shatner.


 

[Tyler and Narrator get on a bus. Narrator studies the faces of the other passengers]
Narrator: [voice over] We all started seeing things differently. Everywhere we went, we were sizing things up.
[Narrator looks up an advertisement; a Gucci underwear ad featuring a tan, bare-chested, muscled model]
Narrator: [voice over] I felt sorry for the guys packing into gyms, trying to look like Calvin Klein and Tommy Hilfiger said they should.
Narrator: [indicating to the ad] Is that how a man looks like?
[Tyler looks at the ad and laughs]
Tyler: Ahh, self-improvement is masturbation. And self-destruction…


 

[Narrator is fighting and the opponent smashes his head to the floor, over and over]
Narrator: [voice over] Fight Club wasn’t about winning or losing. It wasn’t about words. The hysterical shouting was in tongues, like at a Pentecostal Church. When the fight was over, nothing solved but nothing mattered. Afterwards, we all felt saved.


 

Tyler: Okay, any historical figure.
Narrator: I’d fight Gandhi.
Tyler: Good answer.
Narrator: How about you?
Tyler: Lincoln.
Narrator: Lincoln?
Tyler: Mm. Big guy, big reach. Skinny guys fight till they’re burger.


 

[speaking on the phone]
Marla: I’ve been going to Debtors Anonymous. You want to see some really fucked up people?
Narrator: I’m just on my way out…
Marla: Me too. I got a stomach full of Xanax. I took what was left in the bottle. It might’ve been too much.
Narrator: [voice over] Just picture watching Marla Singer throwing herself around her crummy apartment.
Marla: This isn’t a for-real-suicide thing. This is probably one of those cry-for-help things.
Narrator: [voice over] This could go on for hours.
Narrator: So, you’re staying in tonight then?
Marla: Do you want to wait, and hear me describe death? Do you want to listen and see if my spirit can use a phone?
[Narrator puts the handset on top of the phone whilst Marla is talking, still off the hook, and walks out the door]
Marla: Have you ever heard a death rattle before?


 

[after finding out Tyler has slept with Marla]
Narrator: [voice over] I am Jack’s Raging Bile Duct.


 

[after Tyler has asked him if he’s ever had sex with Marla]
Narrator: [voice over] Put a gun to my head and paint the walls with my brains.
Tyler: That’s good, because she’s a predator posing as the house pet. Stay away from her. And the shit that came out from this woman’s mouth, I ain’t never heard!
[cut to Tyler’s room after Tyler and Marla have had sex, now lying in bed together]
Marla: My God! I haven’t been fucked like that since grade school!


 

Narrator: Marla doesn’t need a lover, she needs a fucking case worker.
Tyler: She needs a wash. And she’s in love with sport-fucking.
Narrator: [voice over] She’d invaded my support groups, now she’d invaded my home.


 

[sitting in his office]
Narrator: [voice over] I became the calm little center of the world. I was the Zen master.


 

[leaving his office after his boss has told him to take the day off for looking disheveled]
Narrator: [voice over] I got right in everyone’s hostile little face. Yes, these are bruises from fighting. Yes, I’m comfortable with that. I am enlightened.


 

[after a detective has notified him that his condo was burned down on purpose]
Narrator: [voice over] I am Jack’s cold sweat.


 

[speaking on the phone]
Det. Stern: Son, this is serious.
Narrator: Yes, I know it’s serious.
Det. Stern: I mean that.
Narrator: Yes, it’s very serious. Look, nobody takes this more seriously than me, that condo was my life! Okay? I loved every stick of furniture in that place. That was not just a bunch of stuff that got destroyed, it was ME!
Narrator: [voice over] I’d like to thank the Academy…


 

Narrator: [voice over] Except for their humping, Tyler and Marla were never in the same room. My parents pulled this exact same act for years.


 

Marla: The condom is the glass slipper of our generation. You slip it on when you meet a stranger. You dance all night, and then you throw it away! The condom, I mean. Not the stranger.


 

Marla: I got this dress at a thrift store for one dollar.
Narrator: It was worth every penny.
Marla: It’s a bridesmaid’s dress. Someone loved it intensely for one day, and then tossed it. Like a Christmas tree. So special. Then, bam, it’s on the side of the road.
[walks up to Narrator’s back and grabs his crotch]
Marla: Tinsel still clinging to it. Like a sex crime victim. Underwear inside out. Bound with electrical tape.
Narrator: Well, then it suits you.
Marla: You can borrow it sometime.


 

[Tyler tells Narrator to get rid of Marla]
Narrator: [voice over] I’m six years old again, passing messages between parents.
[Marla enters the Kitchen grabbing her stuff to leave]
Narrator: You know what, I really think it’s time you got out of here.
Marla: Don’t worry I’m leaving.
Narrator: Yeah, not like we don’t love your little visits.
Marla: You know you are such a nutcase, I can’t even begin to keep up.


 

Narrator: Why do you still waste time with her?
Tyler: I’ll say this about Marla, at least she’s trying to hit bottom.
Narrator: What, and I’m not?
Tyler: Sticking feathers up your butt does not make you a chicken.
Narrator: What are we doing tonight?
Tyler: Tonight, we make soap.
Narrator: Really?
Tyler: To make soap, first we render fat.


 

[at a biohazard waste dump site]
Tyler: The salt balance has to be just right, so the best fat for making soap comes from humans.
Narrator: Wait. What is this place?
Tyler: A liposuction clinic.


 

Tyler: Now, ancient peoples found their clothes got cleaner when they washed them at a certain spot in the river. You know why?
Narrator: No.
Tyler: because human sacrifices were once made on the hills above this river. Bodies burnt, water seeped through the wooden ashes to create lye.
[holds up a bottle]
Tyler: This is lye, the crucial ingredient. Once it mixed with the melted fat of the bodies, a thick white soapy discharge crept into the river. May I see your hand, please?
[Tyler licks his lips until they’re gleaming wet. He takes the Narrator’s hand and kisses the back of it]
Narrator: What is this?
Tyler: This…
[pours the lye on the Narrator’s hand]
Tyler: …is a chemical burn. It will hurt more than you’ve ever been burned and you will have a scar.


 

[after pouring lye onto Narrator’s hand]
Tyler: Stay with the pain, don’t shut this out.
Narrator: No, GOD!
Tyler: Look at your hand. The first soap was made from the ashes of heroes. Like the first monkeys shot into space. Without pain, without sacrifice we would have nothing.
Narrator: [voice over] I tried not to think of the words “searing” or “flesh”.
[we see a shot of a forest in gentle spring rainfall. Then back to Narrator in deep pain trying to get his hand away from Tyler]
Tyler: [shouting] Stop it! This is your pain, this is your burning hand. It’s right here!


 

Tyler: Listen to me. You have to consider the possibility that God does not like you. He never wanted you. In all probability, he hates you. This is not the worst thing that can happen.
Narrator: It isn’t?
Tyler: We don’t need Him.
Narrator: We don’t, I agree…
Tyler: Fuck damnation, man. Fuck redemption. We are God’s unwanted children. So be it!


 

Tyler: But first you have to give up. First, you have to know, not fear, know that someday you’re going to die.
[Narrator spasms with a shiver of pain]
Narrator: You don’t know how this feels!
[Tyler hold up his hand to show a the same burned kiss scar on his own hand]
Tyler: It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything.


 

Narrator: [voice over] Tyler sold his soap to department stores at $20 a bar. God knows what they charged. It was beautiful. We were selling rich women their own fat asses back to them.


 

[in the midst of having a long discussion with his boss, the phone rings]
Narrator: [into phone] Compliance and Liability?
Marla: My tit’s going to rot off.
Narrator: [to his boss] Would you excuse me? I need to take this.
Marla: My tit’s going to rot off.
[his Boss stares at Narrator and then leaves]
Narrator: [into phone] What are you talking about?
Marla: I need you to check and see if there’s a lump in my breast.
Narrator: Go to hospital.
Marla: I can’t afford to throw money away on a doctor…


 

[at Marla’s place after giving her a breast exam]
Marla: I wish I could return the favor.
Narrator: There’s not a lot of breast cancer in the men in my family.
Marla: I could check your prostate.


 

[Narrator runs into Bob and finds out he’s also joined Fight Club]
Bob: Have you heard about the guy who invented this thing?
Narrator: Well, yeah, actually…
Bob: I hear all kinds of things.
Narrator: Yeah?
Bob: Supposedly, he was born in a mental institution. And he sleeps only one hour a night. He’s a great man.
Narrator: Oh…
Bob: Do you know about Tyler Durden?


 

Narrator: [voice over] Fight club, this was mine and Tyler’s gift, our gift to the world.


 

[giving a speech to the Fight Club member]
Tyler: Man, I see in fight club the strongest and smartest men who’ve ever lived. I see all this potential, and I see squandering. Goddamn it, an entire generation pumping gas, waiting tables, slaves with white collars. Advertising has us chasing cars and clothes, working jobs we hate so we can buy shit we don’t need. We’re the middle children of history, man. No purpose or place. We have no Great War. No Great Depression. Our Great War’s a spiritual war. Our Great Depression is our lives. We’ve all been raised on television to believe that one day we’d all be millionaires, and movie gods, and rock stars. But we won’t. And we’re slowly learning that fact. And we’re very, very pissed off.


 

[after getting beaten up by the owner of the bar that Fight Club is using the basement to have their fights]
Tyler: This week, each one of you has a homework assignment. You’re going to go out, you’re going to start a fight with a total stranger…
[there’s a pause as he drools blood]
Tyler: You’re going to start a fight and you’re going to lose.
[we see a montage of Fight Club members trying to pick a fight]
Narrator: [voice over] Now this is not as easy as it sounds. Most people, normal people, do just about anything to avoid a fight.


 

Narrator: We need to talk.
Richard Chesler: Okay. Where to begin? With your constant absenteeism? With your un-presentable appearance? You’re up for a review.
Narrator: I am Jack’s Complete Lack of Surprise.
Richard Chesler: What?
Narrator: Let’s pretend. You’re the Department of Transportation, okay? Someone informs you that this company installs front seat mounting brackets that never pass collision tests, brake linings that fail after a thousand miles and fuel injectors that explode and burn people alive. What then?
Richard Chesler: Are you threatening me?
Narrator: No,..
[his boss sits up in his seat, becoming enraged]
Richard Chesler: Get the fuck out of here! You’re fired.
Narrator: I have a better solution: You keep me on the payroll as an outside consultant and in exchange for my salary my job will be never to tell people these things that I know. I don’t even have to come into the office, I can do this job from home.
Richard Chesler: Who the fuck do you think you are, you crazy little shit?
[he stands up and picks up the phone]
Richard Chesler: [into phone] Security?
Narrator: [voice over] I am Jack’s Smirking Revenge.
[Narrator starts to punch himself and falls to the floor]


 

[Narrator, with bloody face and nose, pushes a shopping cart filled with his office equipment and being escorted out of the building]
Narrator: [voice over] Telephone, computer, fax machine, fifty-two weekly pay-checks and forty-eight airline flight coupons. We now have corporate sponsorship. This is how Tyler and I were able to have fight club every night of the week.


 

Narrator: [voice over] I am Jack’s wasted life.


 

Narrator: [voice over] On a long enough time line, the survival rate for everyone drops to zero.


 

[Tyler is holding a guy on his knees with a gun pointed to the back of his head]
Tyler: Would you rather be dead? Would you rather die? Here? On your knees? In the back of a convenient store?
Raymond: Nooo! Please stop!
[Tyler unlocks the gun and lowers it]
Tyler: I’m keeping your license. I’m going to check in on you. I know where you live. If you’re not on your way to becoming a veterinarian in six weeks, you will be dead. Now run on home.
[Tyler throws him his wallet. Raymond takes it, staggers to his feet and runs down the alley]
Tyler: [shouting to Raymond] Run, Forrest, run!
Narrator: I feel ill.
Tyler: Imagine how he feels.
Narrator: Come on, this isn’t funny! That wasn’t funny! What the fuck was the point of that?
Tyler: Tomorrow will be the most beautiful day in Raymond K. Hessel’s life. His breakfast will taste better than any meal you and I have ever tasted.


 

Tyler: You are not your job. You are not how much money you have in the bank, not the car you drive, not the contents of your wallet. You are not your fucking khakis. We are the all-singing, all-dancing crap of the world.


 

[Marla has walked into the kitchen after another night spent with Tyler]
Narrator:
Hey, listen, um, what are you getting out of this?

Marla: What?
Narrator: I mean, all this, why do you keep, is this making you happy?
Marla: Yeah well, sometimes.
Narrator: Well, I don’t know, I don’t understand, why does a weaker person need to latch on a strong person? What is that?
Marla: What do you get out of it?


 

Tyler: Right, if the applicant is young, tell him he’s too young. Old, too old. Fat, too fat.
Narrator: Applicant?
Tyler: If the applicant then waits for three days without food, shelter, or encouragement he may then enter and begin his training.


 

Narrator: [voice over] Sooner or later, we all became what Tyler wanted us to be.


 

[Bob stands outside Tyler’s front porch as a potential ‘applicant’]
Tyler: [to Bob] You’re too old, fat man. Your tits are too big. Get the fuck off my porch.


 

[newly appointed ‘applicant’ Steph now takes over viewing applicants]
Steph: [to Bob] You’re too fucking old fatty! [to Angel Face] And you! You’re too fucking blond! Get out of here, both of you.


 

[Tyler and his army have grabbed Commissioner Jacobs in the bathroom. They hold Jacobs, pulling down his pants. Bob snaps a rubber band]
Tyler: Wrap it around the top of his hackie-sack, Bob.
Bob: Yeah, his balls are ice cold.
Tyler: Hi. You’re going to call off your “rigorous investigation”, you’re going to publicly state that there is no underground group. Or these guys going to take your balls.


 

[after seeing that Tyler now favors new recruit, Angel Face]
Narrator: [voice over] I am Jack’s Inflamed Sense of Rejection.


 

[in the car with Tyler driving]
Tyler: Something on your mind, dear?
Narrator: No. Alright, why wasn’t I told about Project Mayhem?
Steph and Machanic: [together] The first rule of Project Mayhem is you do not ask questions.
Tyler: What are you talking about?
Narrator: Why didn’t you include me, in the beginning?
Tyler: Fight Club was the beginning, now it’s moved out of the basement, it’s called Project Mayhem.


 

[Tyler steers the car into the opposite lane and accelerates]
Narrator: What are you doing?
Tyler: Guys, what would you wish you’d done before you die?
Steph: Paint a self-portrait.
The Mechanic: Build a house.
Tyler: [to Narrator] And you?
Narrator: I don’t know. Nothing, nothing. Come on get in the right lane!
Tyler: You have to know the answer to this question! If you died right now, how would you feel about your life?
Narrator: I don’t know, I wouldn’t feel anything good about my life, is that what you want to hear me say? Fine. Come on!
Tyler: Not good enough.


 

[Narrator tries to stop Tyler from driving the car in the opposite lane and into the oncoming traffic]
Tyler: Look at you, look at you! You’re fucking pathetic.
Narrator: Why? Why? What are you talking about?
Tyler: Why do you think I blew up your condo?
Narrator: What?
Tyler: Hitting bottom is not a weekend-retreat, it’s not a goddamn seminar. Stop trying to controlling everything and just let go. LET GO!
[Narrator takes his hands off the steering wheel]


 

[after the car has overturned]
Tyler: God Damn! [laughs] We just had a near-life experience.


 

[Narrator is asleep, dreaming about Tyler]
Tyler: In the world I see, you’re stalking elk through the damp canyon forests around the ruins of Rockefeller Center. You’ll wear leather clothes that will last you the rest of your life. You’ll climb the wrist-think kudzu vines that wrap the Sears Tower. And when you look down you’ll see tiny figures pounding corn, laying-strips of venison on the empty car pool lane of some abandoned superhighway.


 

[discovering Tyler has left, Narrator walks around the house noticing all of Tyler’s new recruits]
Narrator: [voice over] The house had become a living thing, wet inside from so many people sweating and breathing. So many people moving, the house moved. Planet Tyler. I had to hug the walls, trapped inside this clockwork of Space Monkeys, cooking and working and sleeping in teams.


 

Narrator: [voice over] I’m all alone. My father dumped me. Tyler dumped me. I Am Jack’s Broken Heart.


 

[trying desperately to find Tyler by going to all the places Tyler has been]
Narrator: [voice over] Am I asleep? Had I slept? Is Tyler my bad dream or am I Tyler’s?


 

[Narrator is seated with two bruised patron in a bar trying to find Tyler]
Bruised Patron 1: We just heard the stories.
Narrator: What kind of stories?
Bruised Patron 1: Like, nobody knows what he looks like.
Bruised Patron 2: He has facial reconstructive every three years.
Narrator: That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.
Bruised Patron 1: Is it true about fight club in Miami?
Bruised Patron 2: Is Mr. Durden building an army?


 

Narrator: [voice over] I was living in a state of perpetual de ja vu. Everywhere I went, I felt I had already been there. It was like following an invisible man. The smell of dry blood. Dirty bare-foot prints circling each other. That aroma of old sweat like fried chicken. The feel of the floor still warm from the fight the night before. I was always just one step behind Tyler.


 

[Narrator enters a bar he believes Tyler has been to]
Wounded Bartender: You were standing exactly where you are now, asking how good security is. It’s tight as a drum, sir.
Narrator: Who do you think I am?
Wounded Bartender: Are you sure this isn’t a test?
Narrator: No, this is not a test.
Wounded Bartender: You’re Mr. Durden. You’re the one who gave me this.
[Bartender holds up his hand, shows the kiss scar on the back of his hand]
Narrator: [voice over] Please return your seatbacks to their full, upright and locked position.


 

[on the phone to Marla]
Narrator: Just answer the question, Marla, please. Did we do it or not?
Marla: You fuck me, then snub me. You love me, you hate me. You show me your sensitive side, then you turn into a total asshole. Is that a pretty accurate description of our relationship, Tyler?
Narrator: [voice over] We have just lost cabin pressure.
Narrator: What did you just say?
Marla: What is wrong with you?
Narrator: What did you just call me? Say my name!
Marla: Tyler Durden, Tyler Durden, you fucking freak, what’s going on? I’m coming over.


 

[Narrator finally confronts the possibility of being Tyler Durden and has flash backs on his actions as Tyler Durden]
Tyler: Say it!
Narrator: Because we’re the same person.
Tyler: That’s right.


 

Narrator: I don’t understand this…
Tyler: You were looking for a way to change your life. You could not do this on your own. All the ways you wished you could be, that’s me! I look like you want to look, I fuck like you want to fuck, I am smart, capable and most importantly, I’m free in all the ways that you are not.
Narrator: No, this is impossible. This is crazy.
Tyler: No, people do it every day. They talk to themselves. They see themselves as they’d like to be. They don’t have the courage you have, to just run with it. Naturally you still wrestling with it so sometimes you’re still you. Other times you imagine yourself watching me. Little by little you’re just letting yourself become Tyler Durden!


 

Narrator: What are you saying? This is, this is bullshit! This is bullshit, I’m not listening to this. You are insane.
Tyler: No, you’re insane, and we simply do not have time for this crap!
[Narrator stands, trying to absorb all this, he suddenly collapses onto the bed, out cold]
Narrator: [voice over] It’s called a “changeover”. The movie goes on and nobody in the audience has any idea.


 

[trying to explain to Marla about why he’s been acting so strange]
Narrator: Look, listen. It’ll take a tremendous act of faith on your part, but you’ve got to hear me out.
Marla: Oh, here comes an avalanche of bullshit.
Narrator: A little more faith than that.


 

Narrator: I know that I’ve been acting very, very strange. Okay, and I know that it’s got to seem like there’s two sides of me…
Marla: Two sides? You’re Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Jackass.


 

Marla: There are things about you that I like. You’re smart, you’re funny, you’re spectacular in bed. But you’re intolerable! You have very serious emotional problems. Deep seated problems for which you should seek professional help.


 

[Narrator gives Marla some money to leave the city]
Marla: Why are you doing this?
Narrator: Because they think you are some kind of a threat, I can’t explain it right now, just trust me If I see where you’re going, you will not be safe.
[Marla holds up the money]
Marla: I’m not paying this back. I consider it “asshole tax.”
Narrator: That’s fine. Remember stay out of major cities, for at least a couple of days, okay?
[Marla gets on the bus]
Marla: Tyler, you’re the worst thing that ever happened to me.


 

[Narrator turns himself into the police and lets them know of Project Mayhem next terrorist attack to blow up the headquarters of credit card companies and the TRW building]
Det. Stern: Why these buildings? Why credit card companies?
Narrator: If you erase the debt record, we all go back to zero. It’ll create total chaos.


 

[Narrator goes into one of the building Tyler has targeted to be bombed and he sees Tyler again]
Narrator: Bob is dead! They shot him in the head!
Tyler: You want to make an omelet you’ve got to break some eggs.
Narrator: No, I’m not listening to you, you’re not even there.


 

[Narrator has disarmed the bomb Tyler has set up in a truck, he then attempts to shoot Tyler who is now standing by the back doors of the truck]
Tyler: Whoa! Whoa! Okay! You are now firing with a gun at your imaginary friend, near four hundred gallons of nitroglycerin!!!


 

[we are now back to the very first scene when we saw the Narrator tied up in a chair with a gun held in his mouth by Tyler]
Tyler: It’s getting exciting now. Two and a half. Think of everything we’ve accomplished, man. Out these windows, we will view the collapse of financial history. One step closer to economic equilibrium.


 

Narrator: You’re a fucking hallucination, why I can’t get rid of you?
Tyler: You need me.
Narrator: No, I don’t. I really don’t anymore…
Tyler: Hey, you created me. I didn’t create some loser alter-ego to make myself feel better. Take some responsibility.


 

Tyler: What do you want?! want to go back to the shit job, fucking condo world, watching sitcoms? Fuck you! I won’t do it.
Narrator: This can’t be happening.


 

[Narrator realizes Tyler is not holding the gun, but the gun is in his own hand]
Tyler: Why do you want to put a gun to your head?
Narrator: Not my head, Tyler. Our head.
Tyler: Interesting. Where are you going with this IKEA-boy? Hey, it’s you and me. Friends?
Narrator: Tyler, I want you to really listen to me.
Tyler: Okay.
Narrator: My eyes are open.
[he then puts the gun into his own mouth and shoots himself]
Tyler: What’s that smell…?


 

Marla: You shot yourself?
Narrator: Yes, but it’s okay. Marla look at me. I’m really okay. Trust me. Everything’s going to be fine.
[we see out the building windows a building explodes, collapsing upon itself and then another building implodes into a massive cloud of dust. Narrator looks at Marla and reaches to take her hand]


 

[last lines]
Narrator: [to Marla] You met me at a very strange time in my life.


Total Quotes: 116

 




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