I will make you love me.
The first fifteen minutes of Fight Club strongly suggest to its audience that they're about to watch a much better film than the one they're actually watching—the critique of material culture has yet to embrace to the juvenile punk resistence of the novel and the depiction of insomnia is still pointed enough to be trenchant—so when I decided to teach it in my "Confessional Narratives" course, focusing almost entirely on the opening sequences was essentially a given. The problem is that...