I admit I saw Barton Fink a long time ago, but it was so hazy in my memory (other than the line, “I’m a writer, don’t you understand?!”) that I might as well have been watching it for the first time when I saw it last night. What a terrifying film, honestly. And brilliant of course. It felt like one of the Coen brothers most raw films — a visceral and intellectual attack on everything they do as professional creators in Hollywood. It’s like The Shining meets Adaptation or something. Not to mention it has some of the funniest monologues I’ve ever seen. As far as a film about writer’s block goes, it’s probably the best there is — it feels like beneath all the rage at the superficial, absurd nature of the entertainment industry, there is an even more powerful anger at the writer himself, the writer who wants to create something so powerful that they disregard the audience, and the inspiration of the story, and just about everything else outside their mind in order to concern themselves with creation.
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