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A nighttime odyssey just before New Year's Eve: a woman and a man walking along a back road, caught up in a fight. Their conflict spreads out around them: it covers the dirty coat the woman is wearing, a child she meets and a waiter who doesn't want to leave her alone. Between external stimuli and internal conditions an idiosyncratic and seemingly inescapable space of repressed aggression and confrontation emerges.
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A ticking-time-bomb insomniac and a slippery soap salesman channel primal male aggression into a shocking new form of therapy. Their concept catches on, with underground "fight clubs" forming in every town, until an eccentric gets in the way and ignites an out-of-control spiral toward oblivion.

A rush-hour fender-bender on New York City's crowded FDR Drive, under most circumstances, wouldn't set off a chain reaction that could decimate two people's lives. But on this day, at this time, a minor collision will turn two complete strangers into vicious adversaries. Their means of destroying each other might be different, but their goals, ultimately, will be the same: Each will systematically try to dismantle the other's life in a reckless effort to reclaim something he has lost.