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Rather like the first rule of Fight
Club, the first rule of twist cinema is that you don't talk about the twist.
Often you don't even acknowledge its existence. While The Sixth Sense
was billed as a twist movie (and was lucky enough to have the secret kept)
Fight
Club, which has just as important a twist, never even had this mentioned
in the press. Instead the story was its violent content, its potentially
subversive message and the pairing of its two leads, pretty boy Brad Pitt
and serious actor Edward Norton. Why the difference? And why do two movies
released at practically the same time, both come up with fundamentally
the same twist?
Not that twist cinema is anything new
of course. From safely middle-class Agatha Christie adaptations to censor-snipping
slasher-horror audiences have always been gripped by revelations both expected
and out of the blue. This difference perhaps explains why The Sixth
Sense and Fight Club were billed rather differently. All the
way through The Sixth Sense you eagerly await revelation; shots
of the depression pills and the cellar door demand explanation. Fight
Club on the other hand moves so fast the audience barely has time to
laugh, let alone question the reality it is presented with. Both types
of twist offer the audience a kind of masochistic pleasure; you have to
both see the falsity of your reading and simultaneously rewrite the story
yourself. But what these more recent examples seem to emphasise is that
if you cannot trust the world of the film, then by implication you cannot
trust the world outside either.
The Sixth Sense's revelation
is of course that child psychologist Malcolm Crowe (Bruce Willis) was killed
at the beginning of the film and is only seen by his supposed patient Cole
Sear (Haley Joel Osment). In Fight Club unnamed narrator Norton
eventually discovers that Brad Pitt is a figment of his own imagination
and that he himself is the anti-capitalist guerrilla Tyler Durden. Thus
both films have their main star revealed as 'unreal' in some way. Willis
is a ghost, impotently walking round begging his wife to forgive him and
not realising that nobody talks to him. Pitt is a creation that allows
Norton to explore his own hopes for himself; to be sexy, confident, anarchic
and free. What man wouldn’t choose Brad Pitt as their alter ego? But though
Norton can learn to be more like Pitt, Pitt himself cannot exist. The image
of a man sexy, charismatic, intelligent, brave and unique is dangled in
front of Norton and the audience (with both men and women desiring his
image) and then snatched away again. We can believe in the idea of Brad
Pitt the untouchable movie star, but Brad Pitt the human being? Thus both
Willis and Pitt are in some way held outside the narrative in which they
are operating. To have two of Hollywood's biggest stars revealed as fake,
and particular in such close proximity and in such different films, strikes
me as something more than coincidence. Willis and Pitt are both such icons
of masculinity that their unmasking seems to reflect the identity/masculinity
crisis that Fight Club is explicitly dealing with.
Pitt
is an impossibly beautiful figure, who both on the silver screen and in
real life appears to have it all.
Fight Club subverts this idea
so drastically that one has to wonder whether he can ever go back to being
the Thelma and Louise golden boy. Even in David Fincher’s equally
dark Seven Pitt is still an old fashioned lead who has married his
childhood sweetheart and apologises when he swears in front of her. Detective
David Mills believes that the evil in the world can be caught and punished
and it is this anti-postmodern belief in progress that destroys him. In
Seven’s
urban nightmare it is Faith, not Wrath that he is really punished for.
But in Fight Club Pitt’s character is for the first time working
with and not as a sole remaining hope against, the evils that the film
sees. Throughout he is dressed in scruffy, unglamorous clothes and though
revelation of his body proves to be perfection as usual make-up and harsh
lighting, as well as the fight scenes rough up his face. Pitt himself may
be perfect, but then that’s part of the problem. As Pitt tells Norton "I
look the way you want to look; I f**k the way you want to f**k" and of
course following Norton's subjectivity he f**ks who he wants to f**k as
well. Pitt tells the audience that we not going to grow up to be movie
stars and whilst he includes himself in this the audience knows better.
Nothing can be sincere and pretty Brad tells us this straight but the film
winks at the audience. After all, how does Fincher expect us to take this
reflection of society, with characters that knowingly wonder "what kind
of dining table defines me as a person?"
Willis's
star persona come from the hyperbolic masculinity of Die Hard, with
his iconic image of ripped white vest, dirty face and gun in hand bitterly
fighting back for every man who has had his wife and family threatened
by the possibility of their independence from him. In The Sixth Sense
we see him emasculated; this time he cannot stop his wife going off with
another man. For the first time death, so effortless avoiding in previous
films can even stop the mighty Willis. Even he is human. Pitt cannot continue
his anarchy because Norton's innate sense of self rescues him from his
hallucination allowing him to fight back and get the girl. This is a movie
where Edward Norton, the geek made good, wins the girl over Brad Pitt,
the so-called sexiest man alive. Of course it is still Pitt who gets the
sex scenes (subversion can only go so far) but fundamentally both Pitt
and Willis lose out. Two of the biggest stars on the planet are shown up
as impotent, out of time and performing only supporting roles. Fin de siecle
apocalypse had been discussed to death, but have we really lost faith in
the construct of masculinity as heroism?
This lost faith that the world can be
made a better place is fundamental to postmodernism, an-ism that seems
to have hung around past its sell by date and bizarrely only become cooler.
Postmodernism is explicitly used in Fight Club where Norton’s real
problem is a lack of sense of self in the face of consumerism, capitalism
and his perfect nine to five Ikea existence. In the grip of insomnia he
believes "nothing’s real, everything's far away, everything's copy of a
copy of a copy". That everything’s already been said may be a cliché,
but then surely that is the point. What twist cinema seems to suggest is
that you can’t trust the reality that you are presented with, even if it
is only more consumerist clichés. But could this ‘trendy’ cynicism
actually have a positive impact on Hollywood output? Our postmodern sensibilities
seem to have led us to a place where audiences are finally being offered
an alternative to linear, predictable stories in the mainstream market.
This new brand of film is perhaps most clearly demonstrated by a film like
Fight
Club, which is at once controversial and dark as it is high concept
and a star vehicle. The confusion that a twist brings marks our relationship
with the world being brought into the cinema and we become unsure of what
we have witnessed in both worlds. And of course we’re unsure: how can we
judge what impact the spliced subliminal frames could have had on our reading
of the story?
But Fight Club and the Sixth
Sense are not the only example of this new breed of filmmaking, films
as diverse American Beauty and Arlington Road offer their
audiences a dubious pleasure in the recognition of their own paranoia.
Both these films have their central protagonists destroyed by the corrupt
world around them. If Arlington Road’s ending is not quite a twist
then it is certainly is a re-writing, demonstrating again that no one and
nothing can be trusted. What links Fight Club to these films is
not only their cynicism and distrust of the world but their particular
attacks on suburbia and consumerism. From Fight Club’s vehement
“You’re not your f**king khakis!” to American Beauty’s destruction
of the American Dream, the overriding fear is clear; what can we do when
we no longer want the white picket fence? Particularly in relation to masculinity
we are shown how nobody knows who to aspire to be any more. Incorporating
so many other recent films (Happiness, The Virgin Suicides
and The Ice Storm to name but a few) the corruption of the city
has seeped into the suburbs. In Fincher’s Seven the climax notably
comes not in the soul-destroying city that the rest of the film has taken
place in, but in the blazing sunshine of American Midwest. Though Fight
Club and The Sixth Sense both take place in cites, neither depict
the high-flying city dealing that is normally associated with greed and
corruption, like in Oliver Stone’s Wall Street for example. Norton
is a white-collar drone who measured against most old-fashioned standards
seems to have a perfect life, but with our new dissatisfaction with suburbia
he and Pitt take to fighting. This dated and basic presentation of being
a man is then shown as a release from the smothering effect of products
and money and houses and jobs.
 Both
Fight
Club and The Sixth Sense feature a dichotomy between the internal
and the external, the real and the projected, both for the characters and
the audience. In The Sixth Sense something real has happened to
Willis, but now as a ghost he functions outside the real. There is a big,
wide world going on around him but we rarely see it and fears are externalised
as apparitions. The secret video of the little girl being poisoned shows
that what the eye see and what the camera sees is not necessarily the same
thing. This is wonderfully illustrated as both shots of the girl’s bedroom
(from the movie camera and the girl’s video camera) are from the same perspective
of behind the bookcase, a place the camera can get but the eye cannot.
This lies at the heart of twist cinema where the audience is deliberately
presented with a false impression of 'reality'. The Usual Suspects demonstrates
this in the guise of the unreliable narrator; as in the end every image
could have been false. Norton is also an unreliable narrator of course,
albeit an unknowing one. Fight Club deals explicitly with society's
ills and set against an urban backdrop the site of conflict is internalised
in Norton/Pitt's split personality.
The very idea of the twist works against
classical Hollywood conceptions of narrative progression as instead of
showing the audience what is happening you fool them into misinterpreting
the story. The ending is also problematized as the audience is left wrong-footed
about the narrative. Hence the almost parodic happy ending of Fight
Club; how can we give the stories we tell proper conclusions when we
no longer believe in it ourselves?
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