FIGHT CLUB (1999). David Fincher's adaptation of Chuck Palahniuk's sophomoric first novel is trashy, sensationalistic, amoral, pretentious, and bound to outrage those who believe that movies corrupt society and cause violent behavior. Edward Norton's unnamed narrator is a corporate drone who investigates accidents for an auto company. When his designer-catalogue-furnished apartment blows up mysteriously, he moves in with prankster dilettante Tyler Durden (Brad Pitt), and together the pair draw other disenfranchised losers into their after-hours bare-knuckle bouts, organizing it into "Fight Club," a grassroots movement transforming anti-establishment rage into self-flagellation that branches out into the escalating terrorism of "Project Mayhem," Tyler's scheme to overthrow the civilized world. Fincher's film spars with issues of alienation, repression, self-destruction, the future of civilization, and the nature of the cinema, but these are glancing blows -- it's all just shadow boxing.

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