After begging my wife to let me watch Fight Club, I finally snuck in a viewing while she was out and the baby was asleep. This wasn’t the first time I had watched the movie, but it was the best. Sitting there, enjoying the movie’s nihilistic approach to manhood, I realized that I probably shouldn’t have been asking to watch the movie. If I followed Fight Club‘s logic, I might have burned down my house, stolen a car, and lived the film instead.

Fight Club is the ultimate guy film, and it’s hard not to like. With themes like underground boxing clubs, pointless mischievous vandalism, and showing up to work unkempt, how can you go wrong? Who doesn’t want to blackmail their boss into letting them stay at home and get paid for nothing at all? Sure, the protagonist had beat himself to a bloody pulp to reach that goal, but he probably felt it was a small price to pay once he had blown up his condo and all his worldly possessions.

I’m sure the movie has deep, thoughtful, underlying themes, but honestly I just thought it was fun. It might have something to say about various disorders like narcolepsy and split personalities, but I kept seeing those devices as more of a means to an end: bare-fisted backyard brawling. As long as a movie has characters who are willing to trade their workday suit and tie for an opportunity to slug it out, I’ll be a captivated audience.

In the vein of journalistic disclosure, I should mention that before watching the movie I invited a buddy over to trade some punches in my backyard. It was by no means a fight club. We wore gloves and tried not to get hit, but I did end up with a black eye for my effort. I told my co-workers that I got hit by a Frisbee. My only regret is that I didn’t snap a picture to post here. I guess I will have to do that next time.