KWIF: Barton Fink

 KWIF = Kent's Week in Film. There was more than one film I watched this week but they were all part of the same franchise, so separate "Series Minded" post coming up.

This Week:
Barton Fink (1991, d. Joen [and Ethan] Coen - DVD)

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As the legend goes, during the writing of the screenplay to Miller's Crossing, the brothers Coen hit a brick wall. They got lost in that film's labyrinthine construction and couldn't find their way out. Writer's block hit. Well... sort of. They instead pivoted to a second script, Barton Fink, which surprisingly enough deals with a writer who is struggling with his own case of writer's block. To quote (ish) actor/podcaster Griffin Newman, "it's the most productive case of writer's block in history".

As with many a Coens' film, Barton Fink does not have an easy access point, and the brothers writing, directing and producing the film aren't keen to really show you the way in. Often their films require repeat viewing to develop a palette for what they're serving. I mistakenly thought that my familiarity with their output (they're one of the few directors from a pre-2000 age where I can say I've seen all their films) meant that revisiting those films I've only seen once, some time ago, would be easier to digest.

Barton Fink, at its core, is a satire...I think? In the context of the Coens wrestling with another screenplay, here they're scripting the story of a lauded playwright who is lured to WWII wartime-era Hollywood and despite his penchant for delving into the struggles of the everyman, is put on a wrestling picture which he just can't find a way into.  

The Coens have a fascination with olde timey Hollywood, but also have enough awareness and insight into the Hollywood systems, both old and new, to have an active and healthy disdain for it. Barton''s (John Turturro) meetings with studio execs, producers, and other writers finds a slew of people with massive egos, full of bluster, but ultimately empty of any substance, artistic or otherwise. The studio head (Michael Learner) talks fast and talks a lot, kissing Barton's ass because he thinks Barton's ass is one to be kissed. He is, in Toasty's words, a "purple suit",  telling Barton he has nothing to prove to him, except everything.  All he asks of Barton is to abandon any sense of individuality and free-thinking creativity and deliver more of the same of what he already knows he can sell tickets to. 

Barton also meets another studio screenwriter (John Mahoney), W.P. Mayhew, who it turns out is a novelist Barton greatly admires. He also turns out to be a raging alcoholic who hasn't produced a single thing of note in a long time, and what he has was largely ghost written by his assistant and mistress, Audrey (Judy Davis). Mayhew is a vision of Barton's future, one where the promise of Hollywood riches comes at the expense of one's artistry, individuality, self-worth, and dignity.

Barton's journey from New York to L.A. is a lonely one, but one gets the impression Barton is solitary being anyway. He's neither particularly charming nor affable. He's kind of a pretentious ass, in all honesty, as immediately highlighted in his first encounter with his hotel room neighbour, Charlie Meadows (John Goodman). Having first pissed Charlie off by calling the front desk on him for laughing too loud, the two make a sort of peace over a drink in Barton's room.  Charlie explains he's an insurance salesman and boy, he has stories to tell. But Barton can't stop sermonizing about the importance of art and story reflecting the plight of the layman long enough to listen to the plight of an actual layman.

The Coens filmography largely centers around crime, mostly on a small scale, and the people who are involved one one side or the other. With Barton Fink the crime element still comes into play, but feels almost an afterthought. Barton and Audrey have a one-night stand, but in the morning Barton wakes to find Audrey dead in bed next to him having bled out. It's the start of the third act and it's a hard 90-degree turn the film takes, with Barton shell-shocked by it all. Charlie steps in an helps him out, disposing of the body. Barton continues to take meetings with the studio and eventually finds his muse in the situation, finally writing again.

The denouement of the film is one of fire and brimstone, a compact having been made with the devil (or at least inferred), but as with every deal with the devil, it's got its catches. 

Something the Coens get charged with is not having much sympathy for their characters, and I think that really stands out here. They don't seem to actually like Barton Fink very much nor do they feel terribly sorry for his plight. His struggles are a result of the choices he's made and the way he presents to the world. That said, they seem to empathize with him though, they truly understand the frustration of not finding the words for the page and the irritability that comes with that. They understand the deadlines and the pressure and the imposter syndrome Barton faces, though its clear they don't respect how he handles it (and they don't want him to handle it respectfully).

This is a thriller or even horror movie done Coens-style. With Roger Deakins on Cinematography, things are framed in various ways that recalls Lynch primarily but touches of Cronenberg and Kubrick too. There's an intensity from the outset, with both Carter Burwell's score, and the absence thereof. The sound design is key, such as the moans and wails heard through the wall, or the jarring interruption of a phone ringing, or even the slimy slurp of the wallpaper peeling are all very visceral and present as distractions to Barton.

It's an easy film the appreciate while at the same time proving a difficult film to like. It's not the Coens most cohesive work, but it's also very hard to dismiss given how much it reflects their attitude towards their industry and profession.