A New York City doctor, who is married to an art curator, pushes himself on a harrowing and dangerous night-long odyssey of sexual and moral discovery after his wife admits that she once almost cheated on him.
Mourning his dead child, a haunted Vietnam vet attempts to discover his past while suffering from a severe case of disassociation. To do so, he must decipher reality and life from his own dreams, delusion, and perception of death.
After a car wreck on the winding Mulholland Drive renders a woman amnesiac, she and a perky Hollywood-hopeful search for clues and answers across Los Angeles in a twisting venture beyond dreams and reality.
In 1941, New York intellectual playwright Barton Fink comes to Hollywood to write a Wallace Beery wrestling picture. Staying in the eerie Hotel Earle, Barton develops severe writer's block. His neighbor, jovial insurance salesman Charlie Meadows, tries to help, but Barton continues to struggle as a bizarre sequence of events distracts him even further from his task. Written by
Scott Renshaw <email@example.com>
The title of Barton Fink's play 'Bare Ruined Choirs' is from William Shakespeare's Sonnet #73, the first 4 lines of which are "That time of year thou mayest in me behold, When yellow leaves or none or few do hang, Upon those boughs that shake against the cold, Bare ruined choirs where late the sweet bird sang". See more »
I could tell you some stories...
Sure you could and yet many writers do everything in their power to insulate themselves from the common man, from where they live, from where they trade, from where they fight and love and converse and...
So naturally their work suffers and regresses into empty formalism and... well I'm spouting off again, but to put it in your language, the theatre becomes as phony as a three-dollar bill!
Well I guess that's a tragedy right there!
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This is, by far, one of the best movies I've ever seen. It has been a mistake to tag it as a thriller, because even when that may seem to be the basic plot, what we're seeing here is a truly masterpiece, and an open-class (by the Coen) about how to write and direct a perfect script. And I mean it, this guys made no mistakes, everything is just in the place it must be. It has a lot of reminiscences of the Fellini of the '50s, as well as Bergman (in the 70's, maybe), but yet, it keep a personal touch that makes it just what it is: a must see picture for anybody who takes seriously the author-like cinema. Turturro and Goodman performances establish them as two incredible actors, and even when both the visual (mainly) and the implicit script lines turn extremely complex by moments (it may require from some classic movies and directors knowledge in order to fully understand/appreciate some blinks, and there're a lot of them along the film), it's a truly experience to watch this movie, if you don't care about some intellectual work (a lot of metaphores, symbolisms and relations between such different concepts as literature and philosophy are used permanently on the film). In a word: 10 out of ten.
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