While laid up in bed this weekend (and with the blushing bride and young-uns out of the house), I watched Barton Fink for the first time in many years.
In fact, it had been long enough since I’d seen this movie that I had really forgotten most everything about it. I remembered images — John Goodman running down a burning hallway, extreme closeups of John Turturro sweating over a manual typewriter, wallpaper peeling off the hotel walls — but I couldn’t remember the exact plot.
It’s so refreshing to see something with new eyes every once in a while. New perspective = new insight.
It’s a typical Coen brothers piece full of fascinating characters and hysterically dark situations, but what a film.
On the surface, a bizzare murder mystery. Below the surface a genius allegory for the painful journey of creating. An appropriate way for me to think about the process of creating a brief at times.
Staring at that page. Everything seems distracting. The place is burning down.
When, in the end, all we need to do is listen.
Anyone else find this film as phenomenal as me?
Image via Creative Commons: http://flickr.com/photos/vinduhl/
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