Barton Fink (1991)
Barton Fink, a popular NYC playwright, travels to Hollywood in 1941 to write the screenplay for a wrestling picture. Directed by the Coen Brothers.
The feeling of the film was very Lynchian to me (that's David Lynch). The whole thing almost feels like a dream, and the events are often presented in a dreamlike state. The basic story is that Barton Fink (John Turturro), an ambitious NYC playwright who wants to create "theater for the comman man" travels to Hollywood to make some money by writing the screenplay for a new wrestling(!) movie. While there, he meets an assortment of strange characters, including John Goodman as a traveling salesman, a somewhat crazed studio owner, and a washed up writer drinking himself to death and his female assistant.
Obviously Fink has problems with the script. He knows nothing of wrestling, or how to write a movie, and all of the people he talks to are of no help. His room in the Hotel Earle is small, cramped, dirty and has peeling wallpaper. He chose the Hotel Earle so he could remain close to the "common-man" so that he can tell their stories. He befriends John Goodman after Goodman's laughing in the next room keeps him from concentrating.
Eventually he sleeps with the assistant of one of his literary heroes, a writer who came to Hollywood and is drinking himself to death. He invites her over to help him finish writing his script, but when he wakes up in the morning, she's dead (with a lot of blood). Things get very strange after this. Goodman helps him by disposing of the body before he heads out of town. Fink finishes the script, but two cops show up asking him questions about Goodman. It turns out that he's actually a serial killer who cuts his victim's heads off.
Goodman returns, and in a hail of fire and bullets, kills the cops. When Fink asks why he's doing this to him, Goodman's answer is simple: Fink came into his life, pretending to be and care for the common man, but he doesn't listen. He doesn't actually care about them, at least not anymore than they can help Fink. Fink slinks off, turns in his script, and is soundly rejected by the studio. He is now committed to being in Hollywood, having none of his work produced, but still being required to create new work (which the studio will own).
It's a very interesting film, almost a Greek tragedy in some respects. Fink is definitely stuck in a strange place that he knows so little about. At every turn, things that seem normal are soon revealed to be strange and off-setting. The peeling, disgusting wallpaper (and later the fire) helps us to visualize the Hotel Earle as Fink's own hell.
The feeling of the film was very Lynchian to me (that's David Lynch). The whole thing almost feels like a dream, and the events are often presented in a dreamlike state. The basic story is that Barton Fink (John Turturro), an ambitious NYC playwright who wants to create "theater for the comman man" travels to Hollywood to make some money by writing the screenplay for a new wrestling(!) movie. While there, he meets an assortment of strange characters, including John Goodman as a traveling salesman, a somewhat crazed studio owner, and a washed up writer drinking himself to death and his female assistant.
Obviously Fink has problems with the script. He knows nothing of wrestling, or how to write a movie, and all of the people he talks to are of no help. His room in the Hotel Earle is small, cramped, dirty and has peeling wallpaper. He chose the Hotel Earle so he could remain close to the "common-man" so that he can tell their stories. He befriends John Goodman after Goodman's laughing in the next room keeps him from concentrating.
Eventually he sleeps with the assistant of one of his literary heroes, a writer who came to Hollywood and is drinking himself to death. He invites her over to help him finish writing his script, but when he wakes up in the morning, she's dead (with a lot of blood). Things get very strange after this. Goodman helps him by disposing of the body before he heads out of town. Fink finishes the script, but two cops show up asking him questions about Goodman. It turns out that he's actually a serial killer who cuts his victim's heads off.
Goodman returns, and in a hail of fire and bullets, kills the cops. When Fink asks why he's doing this to him, Goodman's answer is simple: Fink came into his life, pretending to be and care for the common man, but he doesn't listen. He doesn't actually care about them, at least not anymore than they can help Fink. Fink slinks off, turns in his script, and is soundly rejected by the studio. He is now committed to being in Hollywood, having none of his work produced, but still being required to create new work (which the studio will own).
It's a very interesting film, almost a Greek tragedy in some respects. Fink is definitely stuck in a strange place that he knows so little about. At every turn, things that seem normal are soon revealed to be strange and off-setting. The peeling, disgusting wallpaper (and later the fire) helps us to visualize the Hotel Earle as Fink's own hell.
posted by Mike at 1:00 PM
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