Reviews Apr 09 2008 @ 12:18 pm
REVIEW: Barton Fink
Directed By: Joel Coen and Ethan Coen
Written By: Joel Coen and Ethan Coen
Starring: John Turturro, John Goodman, Tony Shaloub, Steve Buscemi
Running Time: 116 minutes
Rated R for language and some scenes of violence
Note: this is the fourth in a series of chronological reviews of the Coen brothers filmmography. Luke Harrington will now be taking the reins from me and tackling the next four films in their ouveure.
Barton Fink was written during a 3 week hiatus from the screenplay for Miller’s Crossing. The brothers Coen had developed writer’s block on their gangster epic, and Fink was their release valve. However, in doing so they broke one of the unspoken rules of screenwriting: when you have writer’s block, don’t write about a writer who has writer’s block. Which is exactly what they did. The result is a boring, dull, and ultimately tedious motion picture (I enforce through repetition) that I would like to view as an experiment gone awry rather than a full-blown addition to the Coen filmmography. I have a sneaky suspicion, however, that it is probably one of their favorites.
Homage to Lynch or creepy coincidence? You be the judge!
John Turturro, fresh off his turn as Bernie the schmaada in Miller’s Crossing, is cast as Barton Fink, a writer in the 1940’s who bears a striking resemblance to the main character in David Lynch’s Eraserhead. Barton has just penned a hit Broadway play, and while everyone else is singing his praises, he’s less than pleased with the result. When his agent urges him to take a deal out in Hollywood writing for “the pictures,” Barton acquiesces not because he wants to, but because failing in Hollywood isn’t much different than failing in New York, and at least there he’ll get paid for it.
One of the film’s central problems is that Barton is neither interesting nor sympathetic. His biggest character flaw – that he doesn’t listen to other people – leaves little room for conflict and development, and he comes off as an annoying elitist with little life experience. Since the Coens exert such precise control over every element in their films, I realize that that was probably the point, but a tedious snob is hardly a wise choice with which to anchor an entire film. John Goodman’s turn as Charlie Meadows, a salt of the earth insurance salesman who befriends Barton at the hotel he’s staying in, is sympathetic, but not very interesting. His later transformation into a supernatural archetype of Biblical proportions is too little too late, and comes off more bewildering than intriguing. The standouts, then, are Michael Lerner and Tony Shaloub, who blaze through their lines with blistering intensity as superficial studio executives. They are the only characters that the Coens seem to be having any fun with, and the film lights up with that famously manic Coen energy whenever they’re on screen. But when we’re drug back to the hotel to contemplate life and the struggle of the common man with Barton and Charlie you can almost hear the collective groans of audiences across the years. Or, that may have just been my stomach.
The Coens penchant for ambiguous symbolism is cranked all the way up to 11 on this one, starting with the Kubrickian hotel. We’re treated to a grand, empty lobby, a bellhop (Steve Buscemi) that appears out of a trapdoor in the floor, and a ramshackle room with gooey, peeling wallpaper. Then there is the photo of the woman by the sea, hanging above Barton’s desk, which will bring things full circle at the end (although what circle is being brought around is beyond me). Lest I forget, there is also a mysterious box which may or may not have a severed head inside. Don’t ask.
Most importantly there is the Hallway, which could have been pulled straight out of The Shining. It’s standing in for the Road this time, a symbol that the Coens relied on heavily in their previous three pictures, connecting people and places to one another with expansive stretches of isolation and loneliness. The Hallway connects Barton to Charlie, two isolated and lonely islands in the middle of their respective oceans (which, surprise surprise, is also a symbol at work). This Hallway, however, not only connects, it intimidates, a supernatural character in it’s own right. Pregnant with creepy undertones, you anticipate a wall of blood to come rushing down it at any moment. Not surprisingly, the Coens give you what you’d expect, although instead of blood we’re treated to fire.
'Come play with us!'...oh, wait, wrong movie.
What, then, does it all mean? If I were to take a stab, I’d say that the hotel stands in for hell, with Charlie playing the devil (what’s more appropriate than Satan as an insurance salesman?), and Barton has to pass through the flames (literally) in order to find the inner voice of the common man that he so longs to tap into, and that….ugh, why bother. Barton Fink is a mish-mash of metaphors and allegory, servicing a ho-hum storyline that may or may not be a personal representation of the Coens’ state of mind when they wrote it. When the credits finally rolled, my wife turned to me and said, “Perhaps I’ll appreciate that more once I see it a second time.” “Maybe,” I said, “but in order for that to happen you have to appreciate it at least a little the first.”
In conclusion, have the Coens created an ambitious failure or a pretentious success? I think the answer can be found in the words of Charlie Meadows: “Look upon me! I’ll show you the life of the mind!” Exactly. Uh…what?
on Apr 09 2008 @ 1:08 pm 1. Craig Kennedy said …
I won’t pretend that Barton Fink is the easiest Coen film to sit down and enjoy and I won’t pretend to have ever completely solved the puzzle it presents, but I love it anyway.
I’ve always thought of the hotel as representing the inside of Fink’s head. It’s all about the life of the mind and Fink is stuck there, thinking instead of feeling and it’s killing his art.
I’ve given a lot of thought to what’s in the box and if it’s really a head whether it means anything or if it’s just kind of a twisted Coen joke.
In this case, I think the exorcism of writer’s block made a dark, twisted and terrific little film. Sometimes when you’re clogged up, you just have to write without thinking too much about it. Fink never could, but I think the Coens did and that’s how the movie was born.
I’m rambling and talking in circles now.
on Apr 09 2008 @ 1:46 pm 2. Evan Derrick said …
Craig, perhaps because so many of their other films are so enjoyable (either on a purely ‘fun’ level [Raising Arizona] or on an intellectual one [Miller’s Crossing]), I reacted so strongly to the relative inactivity present in Fink. Near the hour mark, when the ‘murder’ occurs, I thought the film was finally moving somewhere, only to run smack into a religious crazed dead end.
I can see what you’re saying, how ‘exorcising’ their writer’s block came up with an interesting, bizarre little film. It is, if nothing else, ambitious, and they should be given props for being unafraid to try something new.
I imagine a second viewing would be much more enlightening, but I don’t know if I can muster the energy to see it again.
on Apr 09 2008 @ 1:53 pm 3. joel said …
Interesting review, Evan. I clearly liked Barton Fink a lot more than you did, but I admit it’s a very bizarre mix of elements that isn’t easily explained or probably completely coherent.
It’s curious you reference Kubrick and Lynch in your review. In many respects, I think Barton Fink probably lands somewhere on the furthest edge of the Coens’ filmography in that its narrative is the least literal of any film they’ve made. To me, it broadly apes the more surreal cinema of David Lynch.
The hotel itself starts out as a location but eventually transforms into a metaphor for Barton’s sanity; the odd noises, the peeling wallpaper, that creepy hallway. The longer Barton stays in the hotel, the more nightmarish events there become. And Barton’s real-world encounters become more and more awkward, his focus on his work and his writing less and less tangible to him.
Barton’s sanity is slipping due to the writer’s block, the pressures of the studio, and the lowly task of writing a wrestling picture. To be honest, I’m not even sure if Charlie, Chet!, or the police detectives exist outside of Barton’s subconscious. They may, they may not. I’m not even completely sure the Coens could explain it all to you if they wanted to, and chances are they wouldn’t.
I do love the performances and the visuals of the movie. I think Tuturro and Charlie are both interesting yet flawed characters. I love Shaloub and Lerner in their roles as well as Polito and Mahoney. Davis is good too, although her role isn’t really fleshed-out. I love Deakins’ cinematography and the gorgeous production design.
The script makes short work of the studio mogul and his toady executives. Clearly the Coens have little love for the corporate structure of the studio system, yet it’s ironic they went from this movie to the Hudsucker Proxy, their biggest budget studio film and their biggest box office dud up to that point. It’s almost as though they were preparing for disappointment.
Barton Fink is a pretentious character, but he is like many of the playwrights and writers of his day, who believed themselves able to change the world through the power of their creative voice. A few did, but most simply tabulated what they saw with little consequence beyond literary fame and fortune. Barton is a fool in many respects, but I kind of understand his earnest, left-wing desire to “fix” the world for the “common man.”
He goes to Hollywood thinking it will be easy work, funding his more important projects, only to realize he has no interest or inspiration for the film biz and that he has unwittingly sold his soul and his career to the studio. It’s a tragic story.
I don’t know. I can’t explain why I like Barton Fink anymore than I can explain why I like Inland Empire. I think both are imperfect films that are truly subjective in their charms (or lack thereof).
on Apr 09 2008 @ 2:07 pm 4. Luke Harrington said …
I haven’t seen this one, so I can’t weigh in on the debate…but this is probably the best-written review I’ve read in a long time.
And I have to follow this one. Crap.
on Apr 09 2008 @ 2:16 pm 5. Evan Derrick said …
Thanks for the thoughts, Joel. You know, as I was watching this, I was thinking, “I don’t get it at all, and I don’t really want to spend any more time than necessary ‘trying’ to get it, but I bet Joel has some interesting thoughts on the subject.”
To be honest, I can totally see why you would like this film. There is plenty to chew on and mull over. As you said, the cinematography (and art direction) are gorgeous and really set the tone well.
“I don’t know. I can’t explain why I like Barton Fink anymore than I can explain why I like Inland Empire.” That, I think, sums it up perfectly. Similar to Raising Arizona, you get it or you don’t, plain and simple. You get this one. I don’t. ‘Nuff said.
on Apr 09 2008 @ 8:05 pm 6. Rick Olson said …
Evan, you’re killing me here … I LOVE Barton Fink, ambiguity and all … of course, the fact that turturro’s character is a jerk is the point, it just drips with irony of wanting to treat with dignity the “common man” and then not listening to him …
The hallway IS kubrickian, and of course, that’s the point as well … bringing to mind another haunted hotel in another movie where the ghosts are in the mind — perhaps — of the protagonist, life of the mind indeed
I don’t pretend to have it all deciphered, either, but I love the fact that the Coen’s do some things just to mess with us … did you notice that the biblical passage Barton first turns to says it’s Daniel 2:30, but it’s not … it’s 2:5. Why? who knows, except to mess with us. Godard used to do that, he used to do things in films just to irritate us. I like that.
Anyway, I’ll be saying more about Barton Fink in my contribution to this month’s festivities at your site, which I’ll have done Real Soon Now.
on Apr 09 2008 @ 10:33 pm 7. Evan Derrick said …
Rick, even though I didn’t like the film, I have no problem with anyone who loves it. It’s just not my cup of tea (all that ambiguity and ‘messing with you’ that you dig? I can’t stand it
).
I’ll actually be really interested to see your interpretation of it.
on Apr 11 2008 @ 10:13 am 8. Fletch said …
I’m with you on this one, Evan. The funny thing is, I enjoy watching the movie. I think the trick is that I just turn my brain off immediately after doing so just to avoid the feelings of being messed with that you also dislike. This isn’t something I usually do, but I think I give the Coens a free pass because the journey more than makes up for the destination (the oddball characters and happenings keep it lively).