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>
When Mundt pulls the bedframe apart, the metal ball that drops to the floor has a metal rod through the center. When it hits the floor, the rod is nowhere to be seen. See more »
Look Bart, barring a preference we're going to put you on a wrestling picture, Wallace Beery. I say this because they tell me you know the poetry of the streets, so that would rule out westerns, pirate pictures, screwball, Bible, Roman... look, I'm not one of those guys who thinks poetic has got to be fruity. We're together on that aren't we? I mean I'm from New York myself, well, Minsk if you want to go all the way back. Which we won't, if you don't mind and I ain't asking. Now people are ...
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I'm still not entirely sure what to think of this film. One thing is sure, it won't be easy to forget. This movie is clearly the product of a writer who has struggled with their muse, and equally one who has a healthy mistrust of Hollywood - the sausage grinder. Although Hollywood has been critiqued in film before in similar ways, memorable scenes, clever dialogue, quality acting, and a surreal plot and setting, add together to make this an unusual and different film. Maybe another viewing might add a different dimension. This is by no means 'light entertainment' and it leaves plenty of questions unanswered. But on the whole, an intelligent movie, if something of an enigma. My vote 7/10
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