The much beloved Three Minute Theatre in Afflecks Palace in Manchester is closing at the end of the month, my event Stirred Poetry on the 29th July is likely to be the last ever event there. However last night we were at another regular institution which has often resulted in content for this blog: Flim Nite, a cabaret event where a film is retold in an anarchic fashion by any kind of artist/comedian/poet/whatever you can think of (they want more dancers btw). Please I implore you support this one of a kind experience of an event when they relaunch at Gullivers in September follow them on twitter @flimnite for news and updates. The film was Fight Club, one for which I have a great deal of affection having used it for a feminist analysis of masculine bodies on screen during my undergrad dissertation, the way I would write about it today would definitely be altered more than ten years on but plenty of interesting themes in the film, Roger Ebert from whose reviews I often sculpt a poem by removing words in order did not agree, he gave the film two stars and thought it incited violence, which of course made for an interesting poem to read on the open mic. A link to the original content from which the poem is crafted is here: https://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/fight-club-1999
The poem is here:
FIGHT CLUB (1999) Rated R For Extreme Violence, Sex 139 minutes | Roger Ebert October 15, 1999 Two Star Review
A celebration of violence in which the heroes write themselves a license to drink, smoke, screw and beat one another up. Sometimes, for variety, they beat up themselves in which eroticism between the sexes is replaced by all-guy locker-room fights. Women, who have had a lifetime of practice at dealing with little-boy posturing, will instinctively see through it; men may get off on the testosterone rush. She’s a “tourist” like himself–someone not addicted to anything. She spoils it for him. He knows he’s a faker, wants to believe everyone else’s pain is real. a man whose manner cuts through the fog. seem unsatisfied unless they can add final scenes that redefine the reality of everything that has gone before He’s a shadowy, charismatic figure. “It’s only after we’ve lost everything that we’re free to do anything,” he says, sounding like a man who tripped over the Nietzsche display on his way to the coffee bar in Borders. In my opinion, he has no useful truths. He’s a bully- a leather club operator without the decor. Is not about its ending but about its action. It is a warning against it, a lot more people will leave this and get in fights than will leave it discussing moral philosophy. creates a feisty chain-smoking hellcat who is probably so angry because none of the guys thinks having sex with her is as much fun as a broken nose. He seems to be setting himself some kind of a test–how far over the top can he go the second act is pandering and the third is trickery, whatever the message is, is a thrill ride masquerading as philosophy–the kind of ride where some people puke and others can’t wait to get on again.
(photo credit to Flim Nite/Jasmine Chatfield)