Barton Fink

Welcome to our first dialogue. We spent quite a bit of time trying to decide what movie would be first. We wanted something that most people - including us - hadn't seen before. But also something that would be recognizable to people. We thought a good place to start would be a somewhat unheard of Coen Brothers movie. The Coen Brothers are, of course, the gentlemen behind The Big Lebowski, Fargo, and No Country For Old Men, among many other acclaimed titles.

Barton Fink (1991) can be found on Netflix. It stars John Turturro and John Goodman.

Mark: Alright, lets knuckle down and start.
Dylan: In short, Barton Fink is the story of the title character, a playwright who finds success in 1940s New York, and moves out to Los Angeles to write screenplays. But during a case of writer’s block in a run-down hotel, strange things start to happen to Fink. With the introduction of some colorful (to say the least) supporting characters, things start out slow, and then escalate pretty quick.

Mark: Well, there’s slow, and then there’s Barton Fink.  I clocked it in, and things begin to take a very strange turn for Fink at about the hour and ten minute mark.  The movie itself clocks in at just under two hours.  This film is a slow burner, really taking its time to get you in place with Fink, to put you, really, right where he is, so when things take a turn, you’re just as lost and confused as he is.  Or at least I felt that way, which is incidentally when I got another drink, you know to try and dull the pain of confusion for myself.

Dylan: Without a doubt, most of the movie is getting you to see and feel what Fink does. And you can sort of relate to him; when he gets stuck writing the script, he notices all the distractions of the hotel - the mosquitos, the drooping wallpaper, the noises on the other side of the wall. It’s like a very low-tech cerebral film. Sort of hypnotic. But if you don’t allow yourself to share in Fink’s frustrations, the movie is going to get really boring really fast.

Mark: Absolutely.  It’s these frustrations that build up over time and lead to things growing beyond his control.  All the little things during the movie seem to be sort of in his control; if not in control, then he can deal with them, as anyone would.  And, speaking of frustrations, I found Fink at points to be a frustration for me.  This may in fact be something we’re supposed to pick up on, as I felt a disconnect from him.  He speaks of trying to find a voice for the common man, yet every time his neighbor Charlie, an insurance salesman, an image of a truly common man, offers him some stories, Fink keeps fucking cutting him off.  Of course, and without giving anything away, this entire aspect of Fink’s character comes to a head later in the film in an alarming way.  And I don’t think this was something difficult to pick up on, rather we’re supposed to, but with all the distractions and frustrations, it really puts us in an agitated position, leaving us vulnerable to when things really fly off the handle.

Dylan: Now, I don’t know about you. And I don’t mean to change the subject. But I am still sitting here scratching my head over the ending. It’s one of those movies where you are so inside the main character’s brain, that when things start to get a little nutty, you can’t tell how much of it is really happening and how much is his imagination. We keep getting those shots of the hotel hallway, always empty. It reminded me of The Shining. And yet Fink hears noises coming from the other rooms. For a while I just assumed his neighbor Charlie was his imagination. Maybe it was an aspect of his own personality that would sort of help him get over his writer’s block.  

Mark: Actually, speaking of the ending, I just came to an sorta understanding of the end.  There is a picture on his wall in his hotel room, and the camera always lingers on it, as does Fink, as if to show some sort of escapism for him.  A view at something good or relaxing for him while trapped in the room and trapped in his own mind by the writers block.  And in the end, this image becomes a reality.   But he’s still trapped.  It’s like an added insult.  That the thing that gave him a moment’s reprieve from all this shit and craziness suddenly has become that too.  And also this adds more to the whole reality versus imagination aspect of the movie, as something that was just an escape for him while trapped in the hotel room has suddenly become real.  And this isn’t the only time.  Clearly at one point the line between reality and imagination is shattered.  However, we are never given that indication of one or the other.  And I loved that.  It left us completely out and we just had to handle it, just like Fink.  There is actually a scene during all this really impossible stuff in which Fink seems completely unfazed by it all, like everything became clear to him and all this insanity is just noise.  And we kinda have to react the same way, as if freaking out over the impossibility of the scenes or the ridiculousness of it all isn’t worth the effort and we should just accept it and live and let live.  Maybe i’m just talking out of my ass, though my ass does occasionally have good ideas.

Dylan: Well, talking asses aside, the Coen Bros. have always blended the literal with the metaphoric in their movies. And sometimes I feel like you can analyze one of their movies all you want and still not be able to pinpoint the where one theme ends and the other begins. Like what is the meaning of the heat that people keep commenting on. And what is the point of the author he respects turning out to be a drunken hack. I know these things are in there for a reason, I just don’t know what it is.

Mark: Kinda like the biker in Raising Arizona.  That’s one of their best movies in which reality and imagination seem to blur.  Like this, no one questions the impossible nature of things, bringing into question what the fuck is going on.  Reminds me of Saturday nights of old.

Dylan: I agree. The thing is, with most of their films, rather than get aggravated by that, I find it kind of intriguing. It’s all part of their unique style that draws you into the story, even when - as in this case - there is not a lot of story to tell. It’s like when someone asks me what is this movie about, I can’t really explain it.

Mark: Horror?  Noir?  Buddy movie?  Who knows, but each is blended in to keep us off balance. But hey, quick change of pace, but I want to test you for a second.  This went up for three Oscars.  Without looking, care to guess? Two were technical and one for a performance.

Dylan: I would guess the performance would go to Turturro (Fink) or Goodman (Charlie). As for technical, maybe sound editing and/or set design. The setting of the hotel room played such an integral role in characterizing Fink’s obsessive nature.

Mark: Survey says...  Oscar nominations for Art/Set Design, Costume Design, and Best Supporting actor for...Michael Lerner, as Mr. Lipnik.  The crazy ass producer who hires Fink in the first place and doesn’t like his script in the end . I agree to a point, he did essentially own every scene he was in, but it wasn’t that good. I thought Goodman was much better.

Dylan: But what about all the questions we are left with at the end? Fink wrote what he considered a masterpiece, but the producer hated it. Charlie gave him a package, that he never opened. His parents may or may not be alive. And shouldn’t Fink be in jail for what happened at the hotel? It’s almost irresponsible how much the end of the movie left you wondering.

Mark: In terms of the masterpiece he writes, I feel as though that plays more to the running theme throughout the film of writing in different mediums and for different audiences.  Fink comes from the theater, and his work has been concerning the common man.  However, film, which he seemed to hate actually, has less of a serious tone to it.  That scene, I feel, is meant to finally juxtaposed exactly where Fink is in relation to everyone else.  You notice something?  That the characters who are more on Fink’s level, more real and common in relation to the big glitzy hollywood, spoke very calmly for the most part?  All the Hollywood types yelled and spoke quickly.  Even the tone of voices in the film are played against each other, just like the set design.  Dingy hotel versus bright and shiny hollywood McMansions. And about the box, I don’t know.  It was given to him by someone who he thought represented his idea of the common man.  And now he’s left with the box and I think he’s just afraid to see what’s in it because like you said, if it was all in his head, what did he leave himself?  And I think the potentially dead parents is just to add to our growing tension and lack of trust of what’s real.

Dylan: Fair enough. What else should we talk about? I definitely wouldn’t say this movie is a crowd pleaser.

Mark: Oh fuck no, this movie is not for everyone.  Like you said, this is a kinda cerebral film and will lose people, either because the movie takes a long time to get somewhere or because when it actually gets there, things get a little too unbe-fucking-believable and strange to follow.

Dylan: In fact, its role as a movie sort of fits the circumstances of our viewing it: it is a hidden gem from the same people who brought us so many other great stories. You watch it only after the filmmakers have proven to you that they are worth it.

Mark: And did you notice how different this one is from the ones that got more exposure?  Now, minus The Big Lebowski here for a moment, but all of their major successes - like No Country for Old Men, True Grit, Fargo - they all had such a grander scope to them.  What I’m trying to say is that those movies seemed more interested in the setting and how the people react within them.

Dylan: Well, to be fair, this entire movie is based on setting. He goes to LA where he doesn’t fit (I like how he always wears the drab brown suit, when the images of Hollywood are so bright and flashy) in at all. He is stuffed into this hotel room that sort of reflects what is going on in his mind. The setting is key to the story.

Mark: No, I see your point.  Each film is about the people and the settings that they’re seemingly trapped in.  Ok, maybe not each film, but I’m giving broad strokes here.  The setting, well you said it, personifies the situation.  Like, take No Country for Old Men, for instance. Those massive shots of one person in the middle of the open plain...I always saw it as being a part of something so much bigger than oneself and not really seeing it all. And can I just say that everytime the camera gave us a really good look at Fink’s hair, I could only think of Eraserhead.  Is that weird?  Like no, fucking seriously, hold on, let me see if this works.  Fucking Strange.  I’m not saying that this means anything but it’s just weird how much these two look the same.

Dylan: Dear lord, that gives the movie a whole new terrifying meaning. God I hate that movie. I was going to say that it sort of reminded me of Secret Window, with Johnny Depp, and, actually, John Turturro again. About a writer who may or may not be imagining things as he struggles with his project. And also, Steve Buscemi should have gotten a bigger role. Because, well, he is awesome.

Mark: Buscemi had basically a non part.  There was probably a deeper meaning to character - that he was probably the only real person in all this craziness, the only real common man, but he only shows up a few short times.  And isn’t it odd how different John Turturro is then versus now?  LIke if you asked a kid nowadays who John Turturro is, and after he asks who the fuck that is, because we know kids these days and their swearing, the only role I can think of that they’d know is the Transformers.

Dylan: Yea, he was such a different actor back then. But aside from the Coen Bros. movies he’s in and Do the Right Thing  I don’t really know him from much else. (Oh, and Secret Window).

Mark: That would have been my other big one to bring up, as well as Quiz Show, which I will hazard to say is one of his best performances.

Dylan: Also, I don’t know about you, but I feel like Coen Bros movies could all share a common universe. Like the nature of the people in the movies; there is always something similar and equally outlandish about them.

Mark: And it would have to be for the ones that are original stories for them.  I mean, I guess The Big Lebowski could exist in the same universe as No Country for Old Men, but I’m just saying.  Cool concept though.

Dylan: Well what’s funny is I like to think of No Country as a reimagined sequel to Fargo, even though one is a book adaptation and the other is supposedly based on true events. Anyways, I am rambling. But at the end of Fargo, everyone dies and there is a case full of money sitting in the snow. Switch to No Country: the snow has thawed, the bodies are all still there, and someone comes across the case full of money, and a new story picks up where the other ended.

Mark: Ok, no I get what you’re saying, kinda.  It shares a lot of similar aspects, the movies.  Actually, yeah, I can see what you’re talking about.  Just before I was being facetious but now I’m serious.

Dylan: And lastly, we should end this by saying that it’s sort of a Coen Bros. movie stripped to its bare bones. All the elements of their style of storytelling are in there, but not much of the entertainment. If that makes sense. It has the dark noir/comedic juxtaposition. The strange characters. The violent deaths. And the open-ended conclusion that are all quintessential Coen Bros. motifs. I think I would only recommend it to someone who is a big fan of their movies and feels like watching something strange and different.

Mark: I will agree that, although this is a slow burner of a film, and one that expects the viewer to be paying more attention to all the little things than usual, and it having a very out there ending giving no real closure, it’s a brilliant piece of nuanced filmmaking and character study.
Also, fun fact, they wrote this in three weeks while getting over their own writer’s block trying to finish Miller’s Crossing.

Dylan: Figures. 

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I find it appropriate here to quote the Stranger at the end of The Big Lebowski: "welp, that about does her, wrap's her all up." In other words, we're done. If you got anything at all out of this, feel free to come back in a few days when we cover our next movie choice, Ridley Scott's Black Rain, starring Michael Douglas and Andy Garcia. Neither of us have seen it, and the Netflix summary is this: "In Osaka, a Japanese detective is assigned to help a New York City cop in recapturing an escaped Yakuza crime lord who is wanted for murder."