In a lot of ways what we're encountering here with this difficulty of deciding is strikingly similar to what Umberto Eco described as the postmodern condition (notoriously difficult to pin down, sure, but for him it boils down to this definition in many ways). While texts from previous eras tended toward a more obvious and unambiguous interpretation--even if one that required a great deal of work to generate--postmodern texts were more difficult targets for interpretive work. He suggests that this is because the fundamental mood of the postmodern is ironic, which is not always easy to identify. Are we watching Fincher deconstruct the male fantasy of physicality and individualist superiority, or are we watching him celebrate it? For Eco, it boils down to the impasse of deciding; we cannot say for certain, all we can do is provide an interpretation--and our interpretation will be based on previous texts and interpretations. When we stop the inevitable roller coaster of intertextuality, we are deciding to stop because it is "right' but because that is where our references end. Someone else with a different set of references comes at the material and goes on a separate roller coaster.

This issue exists throughout film criticism in a number of strange ways; for instance, Laura Mulvey's seminal piece on the patriarchal gaze relied heavily on Hitchcock to establish many of her central point (Rear Window primarily, if I remember correctly). However, later critics like Tania Modleski suggest that in Hitchcock's willingness to offer a female protagonist (such as in Notorious) he places the viewer inside that feminine perspective, creating sympathy instead of objectification. Even in movies like Vertigo, where we quite literally watch Jimmy Stewart refashion Kim Novak into the woman of his dreams, there are significant moments of identification with Novak--not to mention Barbara BelGeddes, whose Midge is highly sympathetic. So which is it? Is Hitch a woman-hating, patriarchy-supporting asshole, or is he a surprisingly empathy-driven director?

For Eco's postmodern critic, the question is not really about what it is but how it signifies, and both Fincher's and Scorcese's movies signify in partial ways--they are not willing to fully commit to a logic of satire, nor are they unwilling to completely embrace the actions of their protagonists. We as viewers do not even get a "well, this is wrong, but isn't it cool looking" as with early gangster films.

It is perhaps also worth noting that both of these films are HIGHLY stylized, and that style is central to our interpretation of the material. The grungy, wet cityscape of Fight Club offers a visual logic that suggests deep dysfunction, but the camera embraces that very darkness, bringing the viewer to yet another impasse of interpretation. The energy of the film is so high--rapid cutting, dutch angles, video and audio distortions--that even when Norton is suffering through insomnia the audience is rapt with attention. There is so much going on here that teasing out a singular, functional interpretation without a million caveats becomes extraordinarily difficult, but perhaps from the postmodern perspective that's not so much an issue because it is more perspective-oriented. I am not sure.

And without necessarily putting words in Eco's mouth, I think he would suggest that the multiplicity of interpretation possibilities implies that the only really important one is the one that ends up being most commonly believed, because that's the one that will have the most cultural impact. It doesn't matter if I think Starship Troopers is a satire, because even if I do the generally "straight" reading of that movie as a pro-war, pro-human fun time is more likely to produce action in the world. Maybe.

In any case--really interesting questions.