Mini-Review: Where you all see an incompetently directed slasher film, I see trenchant social commentary. In an early part of the story, Jason inhabits the body of a young black man, a "hellish" fate in the America of the early 90s. Consider the film's temporal proximity to the Rodney King trial and the-- ahahaha, just kidding, this movie is a piece of shit.

Mini-Review: It's like it desperately wants to hit you hard, right in your gut, but all you see are pale, skinny arms weakly slapping at your face.

Mini-Review: Even when you look past its hyper-macho posturing, it's little more than a facile, liberal critique of consumerism which lacks the chutzpah to go for the jugular. The film is so worried about Ikea end-tables and underwear ads that it doesn't even mention class, which is a sign that your little "anti-capitalist" movie stinks. The best part is when Durden assaults a worker and threatens to kill him unless he "bootstraps" his way out of the social relationship that is capitalism. That's so Raven.

Mini-Review: I have a hard time watching this as a critic of any kind. Something about it is so wholly absorbing that I lose myself in it completely. Even though Coppola is sometimes (justifiably) mocked for his hubristic declaration, "My film is not a movie; it's not about Vietnam. It is Vietnam," I agree that this is a film that goes beyond the dimensions of film. It's almost otherworldly.