How to organize a film that is completely defiant and filled with irreverence in every frame, as if each image were roasting over flames—every scene felt like a blow against the wall, much to their dismay. The film became one of the most controversial of 1997.
The reviews were full of conflicting opinions—some thought it was brilliant, while others either loved or hated every moment of the protagonist's journey. Beyond the initial pride, many saw a new version of Billy emerge—not the wide-eyed boy in love with cinema, but a figure whose irreverence in every shot felt almost like a workshop of hostility and provocation, as if it were the living story of a young man utterly transformed. Edward Norton was remarkable—each chapter had its own compelling spark.
"Just a film that seeks to glorify violence without offering any real reflection. It almost suggests that the idea of men brutally beating each other in underground basements is somehow admirable. What happens when our youth imitate these kinds of acts? The explicit brutality and the rhythmic aesthetic merely trivialize pain. Every fight we see is dangerous, yet the movie frames them as heroic feats—an irresponsible spectacle that deserves no recognition. This isn't just harmful to our young people—even adults might be influenced to act in such ways."
–That was written by an outlet allied with CNN. They have a lot of power in news and reporting, but their entertainment section is less prominent. Still, The New York Times chose to appease both sides by presenting two perspectives, and that carries weight too – said Jim Waitt, who viewed each critique with a certain detachment from the usual industry noise.
–Let's see the harsher ones – Billy replied, picking up another review from an influential source. He noticed a pattern—some of these voices could be considered the most conservative faction in America.
Some were fervently focused on safety and social responsibility, while others, from the liberal side, denounced the film as rife with unbridled misogyny and machismo.
"The complete silencing of female voices in the narrative is glaring. We have only Marla Singer, the sole significant woman in the entire film, reduced to a mere accessory in a male-driven story. How can we ignore a script so dominated by men, where women exist only as tools or objects of male desire? The characters understand themselves and reaffirm their identity solely through violence and the detestable glorification of aggression—a blatant display of disrespect."
As one might say, the tone of the criticism itself was almost beside the point.
–It's pretty exhausting – Billy muttered. Reading the reviews gave the matter a strange sense of importance. –What did they want? That the women start throwing punches too? Some things need to be seen in their own light.
–Well, particularly because your previous film was so well-received, these criticisms made some people eager to use this as an opportunity for attack. Where there's admiration, there's also envy – Jim Waitt replied.
Billy sighed as he moved on to the next step—the second form of recognition. It had taken him time to see himself reflected in his work, but now none of that seemed to matter.
The third critique focused on something that barely seemed relevant to him.
"David Fincher was heavily criticized at this point for using visual techniques rarely seen in feature films. His unconventional use of digital effects, rapid cuts, and off-beat voice-overs alienated part of the audience. The film was accused of being all style and no substance—of masking a shallow script with a thousand visual tricks, using the twist of a split identity as a cheap gimmick to justify the narrative confusion, lacking any real depth."
–All that's left is for you to walk the red carpet and face the public – Jim Waitt said as he handed Billy the suit: a deep, wine-red ensemble with a crisp white shirt and subtle red accents, custom-made by Canoli, perfectly tailored to the new standards of fashion. It matched his character's image, complemented by his signature tinted glasses—the yellow lenses through which he seemed to see the world differently, as if adding a certain spark of life to the entire show.
…
They were awaited almost like rock stars. Helena Bonham Carter arrived with her neatly styled hair, wearing a black dress that highlighted her slender figure. Beside her came Edward, dressed in a worn, modest suit more befitting a schoolteacher—a brown checkered outfit draped over his shoulders. He looked exhausted and sleep-deprived, embodying his usual demeanor, the kind of presence that lent a strange gravity to every scene.
–So now we're method actors, and you're the face of Hollywood – Helena teased, her tone sly. –I should've taken advantage of you before… or maybe I should take advantage of you now, in a way you'll never forget. –
Her voice was almost a perfect echo of Marla Singer's—raw and sinister.
–It's just a good movie, nothing more than that – Edward replied. To Billy's surprise, he was wearing a wig. According to him, the new film required strict preparation, and he was taking every precaution to keep his role under wraps. Important or not, it was simply his way of expressing himself. The goatee he sported was almost comical, especially when he smiled, giving him a foolishly endearing look.
–Is the director inside? – Billy asked as he hugged Helena and shook Edward's hand. The flashing cameras felt like an escape from the world, just another day at the office. After four years of facing the spotlight, he'd grown accustomed to it, taking it all in stride.
–Yes. –
–He is, but I think it's better this way – Helena replied.
David Fincher's projects were now closely tied to Billy, but everything depended on the film. A box-office failure would bring nothing but disaster. For some time, it had been clear that all the creative freedom granted was to honor his vision of cinema, and another stumble would be a heavy blow.
–It's better to talk politics in these settings – Edward said.
–I'm all for the alpha males – the actor laughed again.
Helena rolled her eyes.
–Our dear Edward says people don't understand art. I say they simply want something to talk about, and they find nothing more interesting than cinema. We're politicians by virtue of acting – Helena remarked as she joined the cameras.
Billy allowed himself a faint smile. She had quite the sharp tongue.
–I like that style – Edward said.
–I'm afraid it's a bit too much for you – Billy replied, stepping further into the world of cinema and embracing the next challenge he had neglected for the past few months.
–Nothing is ever too much for me – Edward shot back, winking at Helena. There was something incredibly magnetic about a confident man—it appealed to anyone. That sense of assuredness, the feeling that others could draw strength from it, was precisely what made it so compelling.
...