The Worst Film Ever

An Exercise In Nonsense

what a terribly boring film. I'm sorry but this is absolutely not deserving of best picture and will be forgotten quickly. Entertaining and engaging cinema? No. Nothing performances with flat faces and mistaking silence for subtlety.

Actress is magnificent and exudes a hypnotic screen presence in this affecting drama.

It can be difficult to render the life of the mind in a compelling fashion, but the Coens crush it here. You'll never look at wallpaper, or John Goodman, the same.

This is probably one of the most hermetic, personal and autobiographical films that the Coen Brothers have ever presented. Many people find it boring. I understand and I can even agree but I also believe that I understand, at least in part, what the directors wanted to tell us.There is a lot of common between the Coen's and Barton Fink, an idealistic intellectual Jew who idolizes ordinary people and, therefore, cannot see how stupid they are (the Coen's can). Suddenly, Fink is hired to write the script for a mediocre B movie about pugilism. The kind of movie ordinary people pay to see even today. Of course the script, by an intellectual full of ideals, would never be useful in these kind of film because Fink didn't know how to adapt himself to the task. He is far above ordinary men to realize what they want to see and that is why he would never please them. This is not just with Fink: today, the majority of people don't like theatre or art because it has become too elitist and intellectual to appeal the masses (taking theatre and the arts as an example, we can still think of classical music or even cinema).From this point of view, this film is deeply intelligent: it starts out as a very intellectual and hermetic film which will make the most idiotic audience flee from the theater and, then, it gradually becomes more "normal" through action and violence. Even so, it always contains some intellectuality, through elements and moments that the film never bother to explain (the importance and content of the box that Fink receives near the end, for example, a thing that left me confused and curious). Its as if the film, even making an effort to adapt itself, never ceased to be what it really is. In the midst of it all, I enjoyed the work of Turturro, which gave life to the protagonist. He knew how to make his character naive and dreamy. Fink sometimes seems so oblivious to the world around him that he seems to be stoned. What counts for him is the world he has inside his head. Very interesting, but difficult to swallow for commercial audiences.

Barton Fink is movie that proves yet again all you need to do is throw nonsense in a blender, do it with style and pretend it means something, and people will eat it up. I'm no stranger to symbolic and surreal movies (Eraserhead is one of my very favorites), but this is something (like Barton himself in the film) that bears no substance and is purely superficial. What makes it so much worse, and most ironic, is that the movie attempts to disprove that in its message but ultimately ends up being just as much a part of it (if not moreso due to its aforementioned intention and execution).It's not surprising given its reputation among so-called """cinephiles""" but it's all the more frustrating because I fell for it. I admit, I was thoroughly engrossed by the film, largely due to its beautiful set design and unconventional narrative structure. Not to mention, it has some good bits of black humor as well, but beyond that there's nothing there. And in the end, it left me feeling dumb for having played along.

In my eyes, the quintessential Coen brothers film and one of my three personal favorite films of all time. This movie makes me think about or notice something new every time I watch it, a rare feat for a film that isn't just pretentious drivel disguised as genius. There is so many ways to interpret the bizarre events here that it leaves you no choice BUT to think. I can still remember the first time I saw it when John Goodman steps out through the burning elevator and produces a shotgun as the halls burst into flames. The image has been etched into my brain ever since, mostly because it comes out of nowhere. Most filmmakers would never dare go for something like that, but I have eternal respect to the Coens for not only doing it, but for pulling it off marvelously. Apart from amazing visuals, I adore Bartons fruitless quest to discover the inner workings of the common man, while ignoring every single opportunity around him to learn more. As Charlie tries to tell him stories about his misadventures and his struggles, Barton cuts him off to talk about himself. Because he doesn't actually care about others as much as he believes he does. Or rather, cant empathize with others as he believes he can. W.P. Mayhew suffers from alcoholism to the point where he will puke his guts out in public and then seconds later pull out a flask and continue drinking. That's some human suffering right there, but Barton instead only see's his idol as a disappointment. W.P's long suffering mistress defends him, and instead of trying to understand why she would, he simply berates her (which is fair I suppose, but that line of Barton's at the park - "What don't I understand?" - that remains unanswered always sticks out to me) Not to mention him berating the Sailors shipping out to fight a war while he sits in his room and thinks about how everything's so unfair for him. I could talk about this movie forever, but I'll just leave it with make your own interpretations of what the hell everything means. And as for those Coen Brothers, I think we'll be hearing from those kids. And I don't mean just a postcard.