Marla Singer and her Impersonators

That which evades definition. And BPD.

In yet another episode of “how much can we deconstruct Fight Club” we return to 4chan’s favorite film and a quick statistic about men, most notably, that men tend to be attracted to women with BPD.

Nowhere has the “BPD hoe” archetype been better embodied than in the form of Marla Singer’s various impersonators, but Marla herself does not actually have it. Every art hoe, “witch”, e-girl, and most recently, #girlboss is just a cheap imitation of the original. Which is why they have BPD. Because they are imitations.

Marla I’m afraid puts these “female jokers” to shame.

So why isn’t Fight Club on this list of female joker films then? Because that would require these bitches to look at something other than themselves, and outside of an imaginary fantasy. Cruella really puts this on full display, but as mentioned earlier, Cruella is a copy of the original Marla.

Cruella is probably who Marla imagines she is, or would imagine she is if Marla wasn’t above (or below, depending on your perspective) that. But in Fight Club, Marla is as the world sees her. Cruella never is. Nobody in the movie shows Cruella a mirror and tells her how stupid her movie is on Twitter. Marla is as chewed up and spit out as The Narrator is.

What is Marla Singer?

So where does the difference lie between Marla and Cruella? Well I’ll save you the reading. The difference is, Marla left her problems and she left them a fuckin while ago based off her appearance. Cruella is so hung up on hers that instead of doing anything else she chose to be mentally ill. In fact Cruella is so hung up on her problems, the entire film is about HER. So of course she’s an awful copy of Marla. The entire point of Fight Club is to reveal this revelation to the viewer and to The Narrator.

Marla one ups all the iterations of “female jokers” because Marla is contrasted to the world in which she lives. She isn’t fantastic in any way, in fact she’s painfully real. She’s exactly like The Narrator actually. Tired. The kind of tired that sleep can’t fix. Spent their labor waging for somebody else’s good time instead of their own and is left abandoned in the eunuch hives with The Narrator. The Narrator’s narcissism of small differences leads him to differentiate himself from Marla since they cannot possibly be equal, since he’s a male and she’s female. She’s the Other. She is somehow, alien, but enough like The Narrator that he can see himself. And The Narrator was so distraught with what he saw that he decided to create Tyler Durden.

There is no attempt made to hide Marla’s Real-ness. Perhaps best exemplified when Marla walks across a street of fast paced city traffic while exchanging numbers with The Narrator. Marla in many ways is a symbol of the Real. Chaos unbound pretty much. That which evades definition. She’s feminine mystique, personified. Throw in some shit about the moon and Julius Evola and you’ve got every “art hoe ripoff” angle covered from this root point, even from the right-wing. There’s a little bit of Marla in everyone it seems.

This is an attempt from the author to symbolize The Real. All things considered, it’s a pretty good one actually.

Brad Pitt wants this girl and now the “female jokers” seen above can only hope to simulate what they think Marla has. Which is BPD. Surprise surprise, when men finally get anywhere close to BPD they find that they do not like it. Neither do the BPD havers either, as any one of the largely suicidal BPD community will be just giddy to tell you about.

Marla is not meant to be idealized, art hoes made this mistake, and when it comes to film, most people do. Film, like myth was not always meant to be imitated. You will not slay dragons with magic swords. You will not blow up 20 massive credit card data centers with a soap manufacturing operation.

Marla isn’t some imaginary creature like Cruella or Tyler Durden. Marla’s just some insane bitch that shows up at The Narrator’s time to hang with his bros and being a part of his community. And yet somehow she is the source of The Narrator being tied to a chair in the opening scene of the movie.

“…The gun, the bombs, the revolution… Has got something to do with a girl named Marla Singer”

- Narrator, Fight Club

She is an intrusion, an invader. He had all this shit ready to go and who interrupted this? She’s very much a part of the play of Signs in Fight Club. In Fight Club though, Marla is where she ought to be. Outside. Where’s Cruella? Does she have a male counterpart to Marla? No, I don’t think so. Cruella is nowhere near the outside, Cruella is very much inside.

Marla is just around at the plot’s convenience really, and to keep the imaginary Tyler Durden sustained. Which The Narrator is deeply fixated on, and thus the audience’s attention. The movie is about Tyler after all right? He’s the guy on the cover. Not Marla.


Tyler Durden, chronologically, only comes into being once The Narrator has experienced the Real. This isn’t about Marla, it’s about what she represents lets remember. That’s what makes her a good symbol and what makes bitches like Cruella a self-serving, disgusting, aesthetic.

Marla appears in the moments where The Narrator is experiencing reality. Marla appears after The Narrator experiences very real empathy with men doomed to fates far worse than his grey, lifeless, office job, which he only puts to use to buy IKEA furniture. Bob’s got bitchtits. He enters a hive of eunuchs, the possible peak of inceldom. This is the absolute lowest pit of rock bottom that The Narrator finds himself in. Men consigned to live with fates worse than death. However he finds satisfaction in being in this place. Why?

Because it is Real. It’s why he keeps going back. It’s why he can only sleep right after attending these meetings. All of that stupid imaginary bullshit, office job chasing dreams for X, Y, or Z consumer fetish. All of that is gone. For these castrated eunuchs, the rewards of the imaginary cannot be attained by any means. They have not only lost everything, but everything they could ever have. Robbed of a future. Sound like anybody we know?

Tyler Durden manifests himself after The Narrator makes his deal with Marla and by cooperating and negotiating with Marla at a rate above 0, The Narrator is now frustrated by this negotiation and decides that his old source of Real is dogshit. He decides to manifest Tyler Durden and start Fight Club.

This is when Marla begins to follow The Narrator and now that The Narrator’s source of Real is under his direct control (the management of, curation, and participation in, Fight Club) Marla is under control. Her “Realness” is no longer of any concern to Tyler/The Narrator and there are no negotiations with Marla to be had. Tyler takes things from the play of Signs at-will, Marla included.

The Narrator negotiates with Marla, not Tyler. At least not until the end of the film, when The Narrator has clued into all of his own insanity, but this is a moment of parallel realization. Marla also comes to understand The Narrator himself instead of the imaginary Tyler Durden, and the pair of them see what they’ve done together. A united fiction. There are no more negotiations between Marla, or Tyler/The Narrator. Only the music and the distant sounds of explosions play us out.

“Real recognize real”

-Anonymous African-American Warlord