BLISS

Fight Club is not a story about glorifying violence or “being a real man.” It is, above all, a critique of late capitalism and toxic masculinity. The novel by Chuck Palahniuk and the film by David Fincher explore how modern society reduces individuals into empty machines: working, consuming, and obeying without a true identity. As the narrator says, “Everything is a copy of a copy of a copy.”

One important moment is when the narrator asks a doctor for help with his insomnia. Instead of listening and helping him, the doctor only suggests he visit a support group for terminally ill patients do him can see what really is suffering. This scene reveals how, in capitalist society, nobody really cares about suffering unless it is close to death. In the support groups, the narrator finally feels free to cry and release emotions, because in real life, “if you cry, you are weak.”

Capitalism does not allow this space for vulnerability. People wake up early, work all day, and return home exhausted. There is no time for real leisure or self-discovery. Instead, they escape into cheap entertainments: endless streaming, pornography ( which today is a serious health issue ) gambling (other big issue), and above all, consumerism. Advertising constantly promises that buying something new will make you complete: “You buy furniture. You tell yourself, this is the last sofa I will ever need. Buy the sofa, then for a couple years you’re satisfied that no matter what goes wrong, at least you’ve got your sofa issue handled. Then the right set of dishes. Then the perfect bed. Then the drapes. Then the rug.”

But nothing is ever enough. As Tyler explains, “The things you own end up owning you.” This is the trap of capitalism: possessions dominate life, and people become prisoners of their own objects.

The Fight Club appears as an escape. For the narrator, Tyler is a door out of the system, a chance for freedom. The club, like the support groups, works as a way to release emotions ,but in a more physical, “masculine” form. This is why many men today, especially in incel communities, wrongly interpret the story as a celebration of virility.

However, this is a superficial and dangerous misreading. Tyler is not a hero. He is the narrator’s alter ego, created out of desperation, representing the extreme opposite of capitalist submission. While the narrator is consumed by possessions, Tyler destroys them all, forcing him to live in misery in a ruined house. Tyler rejects materialism completely, something most of the men who idolize him would never actually do. They admire only his pose, not his sacrifice.

Tyler also does not attack innocent people. In both the book and the film, violence happens only between those who agree to join the fight. His anger is directed at the system itself, a structure that benefits a small elite while letting the rest of society suffer. As the narrator himself says, “You are not your job. You are not how much money you have in the bank. You are not the contents of your wallet.”

In this sense, Tyler is neither a villain nor a savior. He is a satire , a distorted reflection of the desire to escape from a system that makes people slaves of work, consumption, and meaningless routines.

Therefore, to love Fight Club is not to celebrate toxic masculinity. It is to recognize its deep social criticism. The problem is not the novel or the film, but the way certain groups misinterpret it. Understanding the real message allows us to separate the art from the distorted “cult” created around it.

I really tried to keep an open mind, to see what the writers were going for, but the insistence on inserting Claire into Carmy’s arc is frustrating. Not because she’s a bad person, but because her presence diminishes the story. Around her, Carmy doesn't grow, he shrinks. He stammers, shuts down, loses himself. It’s not endearing vulnerability; it’s disconnection.

And now? We're supposed to believe he’s stepping away from the restaurant because she told him he “needs peace”? No. Carmy doesn’t need peace. He needs fire, motion, pressure, the kitchen. He finds himself in the chaos. That’s where he breathes. That’s where he's alive.

And most of all, he finds clarity in Sydney. Their connection is deep, electric, and completely natural. It doesn’t have to be romantic to matter. It's about two artists who see each other, challenge each other, understand each other. With Claire, everything is awkward and forced. With Syd, everything just flows. He knows what to say to her. She knows how to ground him. That bond is the emotional core of the show, not some manufactured “healing” storyline through an old crush.