Barton Fink

AUDREY: Well, Bill was ALWAYS the author, so to speak-

BARTON: What do you mean so to speak?! Audrey, how long have you been his... secretary?

AUDREY: Barton, I think we should concentrate on OUR little project-

BARTON: I want to know how many of Bill's books you wrote!

AUDREY: Barton!

BARTON: I want to know!

AUDREY: Barton, honestly, only the last couple-

BARTON: Hah!

AUDREY: And my input was mostly... EDITORIAL, really, when he'd been drinking-

BARTON: I'll bet. Jesus "The grand productive days." What a goddamn phony.

AUDREY: Well... THIS.

BARTON: You wrote his scripts for him?

AUDREY: Well, the basic ideas were frequently his-

BARTON: You wrote Bill's scripts! Jesus Christ, you wrote his what about before that?

AUDREY: Before what?

BARTON: Before Bill came to Hollywood.

AUDREY: Yes, I'm afraid I have.

BARTON: What are they like? What are they about?

AUDREY: Well, usually, they're... simply morality tales. There's a good wrestler, and a bad wrestler whom he confronts at the end. In between, the good wrestler has a love interest or a child he has to protect. Bill would usually make the good wrestler a backwoods type, or a convict. And sometimes, instead of a waif, he'd have the wrestler protecting an idiot manchild. The studio always hated that. Oh, some of the scripts were so... spirited!

BARTON: Well I have to come up with an outline, I'd guess you call it. The story. The whole goddamn story. Soup to nuts. Three acts. The whole goddamn-

AUDREY: It's alright, Barton. You don't have to write actual scenes?

BARTON: No, but the whole goddamn Audrey? Have you ever had to read any of Bill's wrestling scenarios?

AUDREY: Now that's all right, Barton. Everything'll be all right.

BARTON: Yes. Thank you. How's Bill?

AUDREY: Oh, he's... he drifted off. He'll sleep for a while now. What is it you have to do, exactly?

AUDREY: Hello, Barton.

BARTON: Audrey, thank you for coming. Thank you. I'm sorry to be such a... such a... Thank you.

BARTON: If you could, I'd

AUDREY: If I can. He gets jealous; he-

BARTON: Pick it up... Pick it up. Pick it-

AUDREY: Hello.

BARTON: Audrey, listen, I need help. I know it's late and I shouldn't be calling you like this believe me I wouldn't have if I could see any other alternative, but I I'm sorry - listen, how are you I'm sorry. You doing okay?

AUDREY: ...Who is this?

BARTON: Barton. I'm sorry, it's Barton Fink.

BARTON: ...Well that doesn't excuse his behavior.

AUDREY: He'll wander back when he's sober and apologize. He always does.

BARTON: Okay, but that doesn't excuse his

AUDREY: Barton. Empathy requires... understanding.

BARTON: What. What don't I understand?

AUDREY: ...Oh Barton, I feel so... sorry for him!

BARTON: What?! He's a son of a bitch!

AUDREY: No, sometimes he just... well, he thinks about Estelle. His wife still lives in Fayettesville. She's... disturbed.

BARTON: Really?...

AUDREY: Let him go.

BARTON: That son of a bitch... Don't get me wrong, he's a fine writer.

BARTON: I see.

AUDREY: ...I know this must look... funny.

BARTON: No, no

AUDREY: Perhaps the three of us, Mr. Fink.

BARTON: Please, Barton.

AUDREY: Barton. You see, Barton, I'm not just Bill's secretary Bill and I are... I love. We-

AUDREY: I'll tell Bill you dropped by. I'm sure he'll want to reschedule your appointment.

BARTON: Perhaps you and I could get together at some point also. I'm sorry if that sounds abrupt. I just... I don't know anyone here in this town.

AUDREY: I am sorry, it's so embarassing.

BARTON: How about you? Will you be alright?

AUDREY: I'll be fine... Are you a writer, Mr Fink?

BARTON: Yes I am. I'm working on a wres please call me Barton.

BARTON: Is, uh... Is he okay?

AUDREY: He will be... When he can't write, he drinks.

AUDREY: I'll try to slip out. If he quiets down, passes out... I'm afraid he thinks well, he said you were a buffoon, Barton. He becomes irrational

MAYHEW: Hesh up! Be still now! DROWN 'EM! DROWN 'EM! DROWN

AUDREY: All right Barton, I'll see if I can slip away-

MAYHEW: Who is that?! Gaddamn voices come into the house... sons of bitches...

AUDREY: Barton, I'm afraid it's not a good time-

MAYHEW: Drown all those rascals...

MAYHEW: Am I? Maybe to a schoolboy's eye. People who know about the human heart, though, mebbe they'd say, Bill over here, he gives his honey love, and she pays him back with pity the basest coin there is.

AUDREY: Stop it, Bill!

MAYHEW: M'honey pretends to be impatient with me, Barton, but she'll put up with anything.

AUDREY: Not anything, Bill. Don't test me.

MAYHEW: So now I'm s'posed to roll over like an ol' bitch dog gettin' ger belly scratched.

AUDREY: Bill

MAYHEW: ...This'll sometimes help.

AUDREY: That doesn't help anything, Bill.

MAYHEW: If I close m'eyes I can almost smell the live oak.

AUDREY: That's hamburger grease, Bill.

MAYHEW: Well, m'olfactory's turnin' womanish on me lyin' and deceitful...

VOICE: ...Hello.

BARTON: Garland, it's me.

VOICE: How d'ya like your room!

BARTON: ...Who is this?

VOICE: Chet!

BARTON: ...Who?

VOICE: Chet! From downstairs!

BARTON: Could you come back later? It's just... too hot... My head is killing me.

DEUTSCH: All right, forget the heads. Where's Mundt, Fink?

BARTON: Well that's what he said.

DEUTSCH: What else?

BARTON: He... I'm trying to think... Nothing, really... He... He said he liked Jack Oakie pictures.

BARTON: ...No. I never saw him with anyone else.

DEUTSCH: So. You talked to Mundt, what about?

BARTON: Nothing, really. Said he was in the insurance business.

DEUTSCH: Yeah, he's funny that way.

BARTON: I...

DEUTSCH: Ever talk to him?

BARTON: ...Once or twice. His name is Charlie Meadows.

DEUTSCH: How long you been up there, Fink?

BARTON: A week, eight, nine days

BARTON: No, I I didn't mean to sound

DEUTSCH: What DID you mean?

BARTON: I I've got respect for for working guys, like you

BARTON: I write.

DEUTSCH: Oh yeah? What kind of write?

BARTON: Well as a matter of fact, I write for the pictures.

MAYHEW: Goddamn voices... DROWN 'EM!

BARTON: I need help, Audrey.

BARTON: I'm sorry, I just feel like I know I shouldn't ask, I just need some kind of help, I just, I have a deadline tomorrow-

MAYHEW: I said drown 'em all! Who is that?

MAYHEW: I'll jus' walk on down to the Pacific, and from there I'll... improvise.

BARTON: Are you all right?

BARTON: Look, maybe it's none of my business, but a man with your talent don't you think your first obligation would be to your gift? Shouldn't you be doing whatever you have to do to work again?

MAYHEW: And what would that be, son?

BARTON: I don't know exactly. But I do know what you're doing with that drink. You're cutting yourself off from your gift, and from me and Audrey, and from your fellow man, and from everything your art is about.

MAYHEW: No son, thisahere moonshine's got nothin' to do with shuttin' folks out. No, I'm usin' it to build somethin'.

BARTON: What's that?

MAYHEW: I'm buildin' a levee. Gulp by gulp, brick by brick. Raisin' up a levee to keep that ragin' river of manure from lappin' at m'door.

BARTON: ...No, I've always found that writing comes from a great inner pain. Maybe it's a pain that comes from a realization that one must do something for one's fellow man to help somehow to ease his suffering. Maybe it's a personal pain. At any rate, I don't believe good work is possible without it.

MAYHEW: Mmm. Wal, me, I just enjoy maikn' things up. Yessir. Escape... It's when I can't write, can't escape m'self, that I want to tear m'head off and run screamin' down the street with m'balls in a fruitpickers pail. Mm...

MAYHEW: ...Still, I must say. I haven't felt peace like this since the grand productive days. Don't you find it so, Barton? Ain't writin' peace?

BARTON: Well... actually, no Bill...

MAYHEW: ...A little social lubricant, Mistuh Fink?

BARTON: It's still a little early for me.

MAYHEW: So be it.

BARTON: Sir, I'm flattered that you even recognize my name. My God, I had no idea you were in Hollywood.

MAYHEW: All of us undomesticated writers eventually make their way out here to the Great Salt Lick. Mebbe that's why I allus have such a powerful thrust.

MAYHEW: I beg your pardon?

BARTON: W.P. Mayhew? The writer?

MAYHEW: Just Bill, please.

BARTON: I don't understand-

GEISLER: Are you deaf, he LIKES you! He's taken an interest! What the hell did you say to him?

BARTON: I didn't say anything-

GEISLER: Well he's taken an interest! That means he'll make your life hell, which I could care less about, but since I drew the short straw to supervise this turkey, he's gonna be all over me too! Fat-assed sonofabitch called me yesterday to ask how it's going don't worry, I covered for you. Told him you were making progress and we were all very excited. I told him it was great, so now MY ass is on the line. He wants you to tell him all about it tomorrow.

BARTON: I can't write anything by tomorrow.

GEISLER: Who said write? Jesus, Jack can't read. You gotta TELL it to him-tell him SOMEthing for Chrissake.

BARTON: Well what do I tell him?

GEISLER: What do you think this is? HAMLET? GONE WITH THE WIND? RUGGLES OF RED GAP? It's a goddamn B picture! Big men in tights! You know the drill!

BARTON: I'm afraid I don't really understand that genre. maybe that's the prob-

GEISLER: Understand shit! I though you were gonna consult another writer on this!

BARTON: Well, I've talked to Bill Mayhew-

GEISLER: Bill Mayhew! Some help! The guy's a souse!

BARTON: He's a great writer

GEISLER: A souse!

BARTON: You don't understand. He's in pain, because he can't write-

GEISLER: Souse! Souse! He manages to write his name on the back of his paycheck every week!

BARTON: But... I thought no one cared about this picture.

GEISLER: You thought! Where'd you get THAT from? You thought! I don't know what the hell you said to Lipnik, but the sonofabitch LIKES you! You understand that, Fink? He LIKES you! He's taken an interest. NEVER make Lipnik like you. NEVER!

GEISLER: Wuddya got for me what the hell happened to your face?

BARTON: Nothing. It's just a mosquito bite.

GEISLER: Like hell it is; there are no mosquitos in Los Angeles. Mosquitos breed in swamps this is a desert town. Wuddya got for me?

BARTON: Well I...

GEISLER: On the Beery picture! Where are we? Wuddya got?

BARTON: Well, to tell you the truth, I'm having some trouble getting started

GEISLER: Getting STARTED! Christ Jesus! Started?! You mean you don't have ANYthing?!

BARTON: Well not much.

GEISLER: ...Look, you're confused? You need guidance? Talk to another writer.

BARTON: Who?

GEISLER: Don't worry about it. It's just a B picture. I bring it in on budget, they'll book it without even screening it. Life is too short.

BARTON: But Lipnik said he wanted to look at the script, see something by the end of the week.

GEISLER: Sure he did. And he forgot about it before your ass left his sofa.

BARTON: Okay. I'm just having trouble getting started. It's funny, I'm blocked up. I feel like I need some kind of indication of... what's expected

GEISLER: Wallace Beery. Wrestling picture. What do you need, a road map?

BARTON: I'm a writer, Mr. Geisler. Ted Okum said I should drop by morning to see you about the

GEISLER: Ever act?

BARTON: ...Huh? No, I'm

GEISLER: We need Indians for a Norman Steele western.

BARTON: I'm a writer. Ted O

GEISLER: Think about it, Fink. Writers come and go; we always need Indians.

BARTON: I'm a writer. Ted Okum said you're producing this Wallace Beery picture I'm working on.

GEISLER: What!? Ted Okum doesn't know shit. They've assigned me enough pictures for a goddamn year. What Ted Okum doesn't know you could almost squeeze into the Hollywood Bowl.

BARTON: Then who should I talk to?

BARTON: Sound a little what?

GARLAND: Well, you just... sound a little

GARLAND: ...What is it Barton? Are you okay?

BARTON: I'm fine, garland, but I have to talk with you.

GARLAND: Go ahead, son.

BARTON: It's about what I'm writing, Garland. It's really... I think it's really big.

GARLAND: What do you mean, Barton?

BARTON: Not big in the sense of large although it's that too. I mean important. This may be the most IMPORTANT work I've done.

GARLAND: Well, I'm... glad to hear that

BARTON: Very important, Garland. I just thought you should know that. Whatever happens.

GARLAND: ...That's fine.

BARTON: Have you read the Bible, Garland?

GARLAND: ...Barton, is everything okay?

BARTON: Yes... Isn't it?

GARLAND: Well, I'm just asking. You sound a little

GARLAND: Barton? What time is it? Are you all right?

BARTON: Yeah, I'm fine, Garland I have to talk to you. I'm calling long distance.

GARLAND: Okay.

GARLAND: ...Look, they love you, kid everybody does. You see Caven's review in the Herald?

BARTON: No, what did it say?

GARLAND: Take my copy. You're the toast of Broadway and you have the opportunity to redeem that for a little cash strike that, a lot of cash.

BARTON: ...I guess I'm sprouting off again. But I am certain of this, Garland: I'm capable of more good work. Maybe better work than I did in Choirs. It just doesn't seem to me that Los Angeles is the place to lead the life of mind.

GARLAND: Okay Barton, you're the artist, I'm just the ten percenter. You decide what you want and I'll make it happen. I'm only asking that your decision be informed by a little realism if I can use that word and Hollywood in the same breath.

GARLAND: We have to talk a little business. I've just been on the phone to Los Angeles. Barton, Capitol Pictures wants to put you under contract. They've offered you a thousand dollars a week. I think I can get them to go as high as two.

BARTON: To do what?

GARLAND: What do you do far a living?

BARTON: I'm not sure anymore. I guess I try to make a difference.

GARLAND: Fair enough. No pressure here, Barton, because I respect you, but let me point out a couple of things. One, here you make a difference to five hundred fifty people a night if the show sells out. Eighty five million people go to the pictures every week.

BARTON: To see pap.

GARLAND: Yes, generally, to see pap. However, point number two: A brief tenure in Hollywood could support you through the writing of any number of plays.

BARTON: I don't know, Garland; my place is here right now. I feel I'm on the brink of success-

GARLAND: I'd say you're already enjoying some.

BARTON: I thought you were going to join us. Jesus, Garland, you left me alone with those people.

GARLAND: Don't panic, I'll join you in a minute. What's you think of Richard and Poppy?

BARTON: But Charlie why me? Why

CHARLIE: Because you DON'T LISTEN!

CHARLIE: ...Don't look at me like that, neighbor. It's just me Charlie.

BARTON: I hear it's Mundt. Madman Mundt.

BARTON: You'll be back?

CHARLIE: Don't worry about that, compadre. I'll be back.

BARTON: It's more than I've got.

CHARLIE: Well, keep it for me. Maybe it'll bring you good luck. Yeah, it'll help you finish your script. You'll think about me...

BARTON: Sure, Charlie.

CHARLIE: Funny, huh, when everything that's important to a guy, everything he wants to keep from a lifetime when he can fit it into a little box like that. I guess... I guess it's kind of pathetic.

BARTON: ...I just don't know what... to do

CHARLIE: You gotta get a grip on, brother. You gotta just carry on just for a few days, till I get back. Try and stay here, keep your door locked. Don't talk to anyone. We just gotta keep our heads and we'll figure it out.

BARTON: Yeah, but Charlie

CHARLIE: Dammit, don't argue with me. You asked me to believe you well I do. Now don't argue with me.

CHARLIE: It's okay... It's okay...

BARTON: Charlie, I feel like I'm going crazy like I'm losing my mind. I don't know what to do... I didn't do it, believe me. I'm sure of that, Charlie. I just...

BARTON: Jesus, Charlie, I...

CHARLIE: Everything's okay, believe me. I know it's rough mentally, but everything's taken care of.

BARTON: Charlie! I've got no one else here! You're the only person I know in Los Angeles...

BARTON: Jesus... You're leaving.

CHARLIE: Have to, old timer. Just for a while.

BARTON: ...Uh-huh... Where's Audrey?

CHARLIE: She's dead, Barton! If that was her name.

CHARLIE: Jesus... They can tell that...

BARTON: They GOTTA believe me, Charlie! They gotta have mercy!

CHARLIE: You're in pictures, Barton. Even if you got cleared eventually, this would ruin you.

CHARLIE: I believe you, brother, but this don't look good.

BARTON: We gotta call the police

CHARLIE: Hold on. I said hold on, so hold on.

BARTON: Yeah.

CHARLIE: What do you think happened?

BARTON: I don't know! Maybe it was her... boyfriend. I passed out. I don't know. Won't the police be able to

CHARLIE: Stop with the police! Wake up, friend! This does not look good! They hang people for this!

BARTON: But I didn't do it don't you believe me?

CHARLIE: I believe you I KNOW you. But why should the police?

CHARLIE: ...Jesus, Barton, what the hell is this? What're we gonna do?

BARTON: I've gotta call the police or you could call for me

CHARLIE: Hold on

BARTON: You gotta believe me

CHARLIE: Hold on

BARTON: I didn't do this, I did NOT do this

CHARLIE: Hold on. Stop. Take a deep breath. Tell me what happened.

BARTON: I don't know! I woke up, she was... God, you gotta believe me!

BARTON: ...Will you stay with me till they get here?

CHARLIE: Don't worry about it, Barton. We can sort it-

CHARLIE: Get a grip on yourself, brother. Whatever the problem is, we'll sort it out.

BARTON: Charlie, I'm in trouble something horrible's happened I've gotta call the police...

CHARLIE: Barton. Are you all right?

BARTON: No... Can I come in?

CHARLIE: Why don't we go to your room-

BARTON: Charlie, I'm in trouble. You've gotta help me.

CHARLIE: ...Can I come in?

BARTON: No!... I'm fine. Thank you.

CHARLIE: Are you sure

BARTON: No... no...

CHARLIE: ...I guess it seems pathetic to a guy like you.

BARTON: Well...

CHARLIE: Well it's pathetic, isn't it? I mean to a guy from New York.

BARTON: What do you mean?

CHARLIE: This kind of heat. It's pathetic.

BARTON: Well, I guess you pick your poison.

CHARLIE: So they say.

BARTON: Don't pick up and leave without saying goodbye.

CHARLIE: Course not, compadre. You'll see me again.

CHARLIE: ...Your room does that too?

BARTON: I guess the heat's sweating off the wallpaper.

CHARLIE: What a dump...

BARTON: And there's hope for you too, Charlie. Tomorrow I bet you sell a half-dozen policies.

CHARLIE: Thanks, brother. But the fact is, I gotta pull up stakes temporarily.

BARTON: You're leaving?

CHARLIE: In a few days. Out to your stompin' grounds as a matter of fact New York City. Things have gotten all balled up at the Head Office.

BARTON: I'm truly sorry to hear that, Charlie. I'll miss you.

CHARLIE: Well hell, buddy, don't pull a long face! This is still home for me I keep my room, and I'll be back sooner or later...

CHARLIE: ...Ah, you'll lick this picture business, believe me. You've got a head on your shoulders. What is it they say? Where there's a head, there's a hope?

BARTON: Where there's life there's hope.

BARTON: How did you know about that?

CHARLIE: Know about it? I can practically see how they're doin' it. Brother, I wish I had a piece of that.

BARTON: Yeah, but

CHARLIE: Seems like I hear everything that goes on in this dump. Pipes or somethin'. I'm just glad I don't have to ply MY trade in the wee-wee hours.

CHARLIE: ...Listen to me belly-achin'. As if my problems amounted to a hill of beans. How goes the life of the mind?

BARTON: Well, it's been better. I can't seem to get going on this thing. That one idea, the one that lets you get started I still haven't gotten it. Maybe I only had one idea in me my play. Maybe once that was done, I was done being a writer. Christ, I feel like a fraud, sitting here staring at this paper.

CHARLIE: Those two love-birds next door drivin' you nuts?

CHARLIE: ...Did I say rude? People can be goddamn cruel. Especially some of their housewives. Okay, so I've got a weight problem. That's my cross to bear. I dunno...

BARTON: Well it's... it's a defense mechanism.

CHARLIE: Defense against what? Insurance? Something they need? Something they should be thanking me for offering? A little peace of mind?...

CHARLIE: Jesus, what a day. Felt like I couldn't've sold ice water in the Sahara. Jesus. Okay, so you don't want insurance, so okay, that's your loss. But God, people can be rude. Feel like I have to talk to a normal person like just to restore a little of my...

BARTON: Well, my pleasure. I could use a little lift myself.

CHARLIE: A little lift, yeah...

CHARLIE: Jesus, what a day I've had. Ever had one of those days?

BARTON: Seems like nothing but, lately.

CHARLIE: I hope these are your shoes.

BARTON: Hi, Charlie.

CHARLIE: Because that would mean they gave you mine.

BARTON: Yeah, as a matter of fact they did. Come on in.

BARTON: It's okay, it's okay.

CHARLIE: Well, that's all that wrestling is. Except usually there's more grunting and squirming before the pin. Well, it's your first time. And you're out of your weight class.

CHARLIE: ...All right now, when I say "Ready... wrestle!" you try and pin me, and I try and pin you. That's the whole game. Got it?

BARTON: ...Yeah, okay.

CHARLIE: Ready... wrestle!

CHARLIE: ...You're a little out of your weight class, but just for purposes of demonstration

BARTON: That's all right, really

CHARLIE: Not a bit of it, compadre! Easiest thing in the world! You just get down on your knees to my left, slap your right hand here...

BARTON: ...Probably sounds a little grand coming from someone who's writing a wrestling picture for Wallace Beery.

CHARLIE: Beery! You got no beef there! He's good. Hell of an actor though, for my money, you can't beat Jack Oakie. A stitch, Oakie. Funny stuff, funny stuff. But don't get me wrong Beery, a wrestling picture, that could be a pip. Wrestled some myself back in school. I guess you know the basic moves.

BARTON: Nope, never watched any. I'm not that interested in the act itself

CHARLIE: Okay, but hell, you should know what it is. I can show you in about thirty seconds.

BARTON: ...This must be boring you.

CHARLIE: Not at all. It's damned interesting.

BARTON: Yeah...

CHARLIE: ...It was taken by one of my policy holders. They're more than just customers to me, Barton. They really appreciate what I have to offer them. Ya see, her hubby was out of town at the time

BARTON: You know, in a way, I envy you Charlie. Your daily routine you know what's expected. You know the drill. My job is to plumb the depths, so to speak, dredge something up from inside, something honest. There's no road map for that territory...

CHARLIE: ...What's the expression me myself and I.

BARTON: Sure, that's tough, but in a sense, we're all alone in this world aren't we Charlie? I'm often surrounded by family and friends, but...

BARTON: My folks live in Brooklyn, with my uncle.

CHARLIE: Mine have passed on. It's just the three of us now...

CHARLIE: ...Got a sweetheart?

BARTON: No... I guess it's something about my work. I get so worked up over it, I don't know; I don't really have a lot of attention left over, so it would be a little unfair...

CHARLIE: Yeah, the ladies do ask for attention. In my experience, they pretend to give it, but it's generally a smoke- screen for demanding it back with interest. How about family, Bart? How're you fixed in that department?

CHARLIE: Thanks, I'd invite you over to my place, but it's a goddamn mess. You married, Bart?

BARTON: Nope.

CHARLIE: I myself have yet to be lassoed.

CHARLIE: Ah, doctors. What's he gonna tell me? Can't trade my head in for a new one.

BARTON: No, I guess you're stuck with the one you've got. Have a seat.

CHARLIE: Oh, yeah. An ear infection, chronic thing. Goes away for a while, but it always comes back. Gotta put cotton in it to staunch the flow of pus. Don't worry, it's not contagious.

BARTON: Seen a doctor?

CHARLIE: Howdy, neighbor.

BARTON: Charlie. How are you.

CHARLIE: Jesus, I hope I'm not interrupting you again. I heard you walking around in here. Figured I'd drop by.

BARTON: Yeah, come in Charlie. Hadn't really gotten started yet what happened to your ear?

CHARLIE: ...And look, I'm sorry as hell about the interruption. Too much revelry late at night, you forget there are other people in the world.

BARTON: See you, Charlie.

BARTON: Sure, sure Charlie, you can help by just being yourself.

CHARLIE: Well, I can tell you some stories

BARTON: You're all right, Charlie. I'm glad you stopped by. I'm sorry if well I know I sometimes run on.

CHARLIE: Hell no! Jesus, I'm the kind of guy, I'll let you know if I'm bored. I find it all pretty damned interesting. I'm the kind schmoe who's generally interested in the other guy's point of view.

BARTON: Well, we've got something in common then.

BARTON: ...I don't guess this means much to you.

CHARLIE: Hell, I could tell you some stories

BARTON: And that's the point, that we all have stories. The hopes and dreams of the common man are as noble as those of any king. It's the stuff of life why shouldn't it be the stuff of theater? Goddamnit, why should that be a hard pill to swallow? Don't call it new theater, Charlie; call it real theater. Call it our theater.

CHARLIE: I can see you feel pretty strongly about it.

BARTON: Well, I don't mean to get up on my high horse, but why shouldn't we look at ourselves up there? Who cares about the Fifth Earl of Bastrop and Lady Higginbottom and and and who killed Nigel Grinch-Gibbons?

CHARLIE: I can feel my butt getting sore already.

BARTON: Exactly, Charlie! You understand what I'm saying a lot more than some of these literary types. Because you're a real man!

CHARLIE: And I could tell you some stories

BARTON: 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 and 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 theater becomes as phony as a three dollar bill.

CHARLIE: Yeah, I guess that's tragedy right there.

BARTON: Frequently played, seldom remarked.

CHARLIE: Caught me trying to be fancy! Yeah, that's it, Bart.

BARTON: Well, that's a good question. Strange as it may seem, Charlie, I guess I write about people like you. The average working stiff. The common man.

CHARLIE: Well ain't that a kick in the head!

BARTON: Yeah, I guess it is. But in a way, that's exactly the point. There's a few people in New York hopefully our numbers are growing who feel we have an opportunity now to forge something real out of everyday experience, create a theater for the masses that's based on a few simple truths not on some shopworn abstractions about drama that doesn't hold true today, if they ever did...

BARTON: That's okay, Charlie. I'm a playwright. My shows've only played New York. Last one got a hell of a write-up in the Herald. I guess that's why they wanted me here.

CHARLIE: Hell, why not? Everyone wants quality. What kind of venue, that is to say, thematically, uh...

BARTON: What do I write about?

CHARLIE: ...Is the egg showing or what?!

BARTON: That's okay; actually I am just starting out in the movies though I was pretty well established in New York, some renown there,

CHARLIE: Oh, it's an exciting time then. I'm not the best-read mug on the planet, so I guess it's no surprise I didn't recognize your name. Jesus, I feel like a heel.

CHARLIE: ...In spite of what you might think from tonight, I'm pretty good at it.

BARTON: Doesn't surprise me at all.

CHARLIE: Hell yes. Because I believe in it. Fire, theft, and casualty are not things that only happen to other people that's what I tell 'em. Writing doesn't work out, you might want to look into it. Providing for basic human need a fella could do worse.

BARTON: Thanks, I'll keep it in mind.

CHARLIE: What kind of scribbler are you newspaperman did you say?

BARTON: No, I'm actually writing for the pictures now

CHARLIE: Pictures! Jesus!

BARTON: And what's your line, Mr. Meadows?

CHARLIE: Hell no! Call me Charlie. Well Barton, you might say I sell peace of mind. Insurance is my game door-to-door, human contact, still the only way to move merchandise.

CHARLIE: Yeah, just a nip. I feel like hell, all the carryings-on next door.

BARTON: That's okay, I assure you. It's just that I was trying to work

CHARLIE: What kind of work do you do, Barton, if you don't mind my asking?

BARTON: Well, I'm a writer, actually.

CHARLIE: You don't say. That's a tough racket. My hat's off to anyone who can make a go of it. Damned interesting work, I'd imagine.

BARTON: Can be. Not easy, but

CHARLIE: Damned difficult, I'd imagine.

CHARLIE: ... You got a glass? It's the least I can do.

BARTON: Okay... a quick one, sure...

CHARLIE: Neighbor, I'd feel better about the damned inconvenience if you'd let me buy you a drink.

BARTON: That's all right, really, thank you.

CHARLIE: All right, hell, you trying to work and me carrying on in there. Look, the liquor's good, wuddya say?

BARTON: I'm sorry if I let you down.

LIPNIK: You didn't let ME down. Or even Lou. We don't live or die by what you scribble, Fink. You let Ben Geisler down. He liked you. Trusted you. And that's why he's gone. Fired. That guy had a heart as big as the outdoors, and you fucked him. He tried to convince me to fire you too, but that would be too easy. No, you're under contract and you're gonna stay that way. Anything you write will be the property of Capitol Pictures. And Capitol Pictures will not produce anything you write. Not until you grow up a little. You ain't no writer, Fink you're a goddamn write-off.

BARTON: I tried to show you something beautiful. Something about all of US

BARTON: Yes sir.

LIPNIK: I had to call Beery this morning, let him know we were pushing the picture back. After all I'd told him about quality, about that Barton Fink feeling. How disappointed we were. Wally was heartbroken. The man was devastated. He was well, I didn't actually call him, Lou did. But that's a fair description, isn't it Lou?

LIPNIK: ...I gotta tell you, Fink. It won't wash.

BARTON: With all due respect, sir, I think it's the best work I've done.

LIPNIK: Don't gas me, Fink. If you're opinion mattered, then I guess I'd resign and let YOU run the the studio. It doesn't and you won't, and the lunatics are not going to run THIS particular asylum. So let's put a stop to THAT rumor right now.

LIPNIK: ...I was commissioned yesterday in the Army Reserve. Henry Morgenthau arranged it. He's a dear friend.

BARTON: Congratulations.

LIPNIK: Actually it hasn't officially gone through yet. Had wardrobe whip this up. You gotta pull teeth to get anything done in this town. I can understand a little red tape in peacetime, but now it's all-out warfare against the Japs. Little yellow bastards. They'd love to see me sit this one out.

BARTON: Yes sir, they

LIPNIK: Anyway, I had Lou read your script for me.

LIPNIK: Fink.

BARTON: Mr. Lipnik.

LIPNIK: Colonel Lipnik, if you don't mind.

BARTON: Mr. Lipnik, I

LIPNIK: I apologize, Barton.

BARTON: No no, Mr. Breeze has actually been a great help

LIPNIK: You don't have to cover for him. It's noble of you, but these things happen in business.

BARTON: Mr. Lipnik, I really would feel much better if you could reconsider

LIPNIK: Ah, forget it, kid. I want you to pull this out of your head. If that sonofabitch wouldn't apologize to you, goddammit, I will. I respect your artistry and your methods, and if you can't fill us in yet, well hell, we should be kissing your feet for your fine efforts.

BARTON: I Mr. Lipnik

LIPNIK: KISS THIS MAN'S FEET!!

BARTON: ...Can I be honest, Mr. Lipnik?

LIPNIK: CAN you? You damn well better be. Jesus, if I hadn't been honest in my business dealings well, of course, you can't always be honest, not with the sharks swimming around this town but if you're a writer, you don't think about those things if I'd been totally honest, I wouldn't be within a mile of this pool unless I was cleaning it. But that's no reason for you not to be. Honest, I mean. Not cleaning the pool.

BARTON: ...It's a tenement building. On the Lower East Side...

LIPNIK: Great! He's poor, this wrestler! He's had to struggle!

BARTON: And then... well...

BARTON: Yeah... rye whiskey?

LIPNIK: Boy! You writers! Work hard, play hard! That's what I hear, anyway...

LIPNIK: ...Well Bart, which is it? Orphan? Dame?

BARTON: ...Both maybe?

BARTON: To be honest, I don't go to the pictures much, Mr. Lipnik

LIPNIK: That's okay, that's okay, that's okay that's just fine. You probably just walked in here thinking that was going to be a handicap, thinking we wanted people who knew something about the medium, maybe even thinking there was all kind of technical mumbo- jumbo to learn. You were dead wrong. We're only interested in one thing: Can you tell a story, Bart? Can you make us laugh, can you make us cry, can you make us wanna break out in joyous song? Is that more than one thing? Okay. The point is, I run this dump and I don't know the technical mumbo-jumbo. Why do I run it? I've got horse-sense, goddamnit. Showmanship. And also, and I hope Lou told you this, I bigger and meaner than any other kike in this town. Did you tell him that, Lou? And I don't mean my dick's bigger than yours, it's not a sexual thing although, you're the writer, you would know more about that. Coffee?

BARTON: ...Yes, thank you.

LIPNIK: Lou.

LIPNIK: ...Where did we put him?

BARTON: I'm at the Earle.

LIPNIK: Never heard of it. Let's move him to the Grand, or the Wilshire, or hell, he can stay at my place.

BARTON: Thanks, but I wanted a place that was less...

LIPNIK: Less Hollywood? Sure, say it, it's not a dirty word. Sat whatever the hell you want. The writer is king here at Capitol Pictures. You don't believe me, take a look at your paycheck at the end of every week that's what we think of the writer. ...so what kind of pictures does he like?

CLERK: ...Those your only bags?

BARTON: The others are being sent.

CLERK: Okey-dokey, go ahead.

BARTON: What

CLERK: Don't you wanna go to your room?!

CLERK: ...Okay

BARTON: Huh?

CLERK: ...Are you a tranz or a rez?

BARTON: Excuse me?

CLERK: Transient or resident?

BARTON: I don't know... I mean, I'll be here, uh, indefinitely.

CLERK: Rez. That'll be twenty-five fifty a week payable in advance. Checkout time is twelve sharp, only you can forget that on account you're a rez. If you need anything, anything at all, you dial zero on your personal in-room telephone and talk to me. My name is Chet.

BARTON: Well, I'm going to be working here, mostly at night; I'm a writer. Do you have room service?

CLERK: Kitchen closes at eight but I'm the night clerk. I can always ring out for sandwiches.

CLERK: F-I-N-K. Fink, Barton. That must be you, huh?

BARTON: Must be.

CLERK: Okay then, everything seems to be in order. Everything seems to be in order.

CLERK: Welcome to the Hotel Earle. May I help you, sir?

BARTON: I'm checking in. Barton Fink.

BARTON: Sex?! He's a MAN! We WRESTLED!

MASTRIONOTTI: You're a sick fuck, Fink.

BARTON: Charlie... Charlie's back...

MASTRIONOTTI: No kidding, bright boy we smelt Mundt all over this. Was he the idea man?

BARTON: What did... What did he

MASTRIONOTTI: Funny. As in, he likes to ventilate people with a shotgun and then cut their heads off.

BARTON: ...Yeah, he... he lives next door to me.

MASTRIONOTTI: That's right, Fink, he lives next door to you.

MASTRIONOTTI: Is this multiple choice?

BARTON: Nine days Tuesday

MASTRIONOTTI: Jesus! Ain't that a load off! You live in 605?

BARTON: Yeah.

MASTRIONOTTI: L.A.P.D.

BARTON: Uh-huh.

DEUTSCH: Why's it so goddamn hot out here?

MASTRIONOTTI: ...Fred...

MASTRIONOTTI: He teach you to do it?

DEUTSCH: You two have some sick sex thing?

DEUTSCH: Tell us where the heads are, maybe they'll go easy on you.

MASTRIONOTTI: Only fry you once.

MASTRIONOTTI: Sixth floor too high for you, Fink?

DEUTSCH: Give you nose bleeds?

MASTRIONOTTI: Second one of your friends to end up dead.

DEUTSCH: You didn't tell us you knew the dame.

MASTRIONOTTI: ...I thought you said you were a writer.

DEUTSCH: I dunno, Duke. I kinda liked it.

MASTRIONOTTI: Ya know, Fink, ordinarily we say anything you might remember could be helpful. But I'll be frank with you: That is not helpful.

DEUTSCH: Ya see how he's not writing it down?

MASTRIONOTTI: Fink. That's a Jewish name, isn't it?

DEUTSCH: Yeah, and he's Buck Rogers.

MASTRIONOTTI: No reputable company would hire a guy like that.

MASTRIONOTTI: Started in Kansas City. Couple of housewives.

DEUTSCH: Couple of days ago we see the same M.O. out in Los Feliz.

MASTRIONOTTI: Doctor. Ear, nose and throat man,.

DEUTSCH: All of which he's now missin'.

MASTRIONOTTI: Well, some of his throat was there.

DEUTSCH: Physician, heal thyself.

MASTRIONOTTI: Good luck with no fuckin' head.

DEUTSCH: Anyway.

MASTRIONOTTI: Hollywood precinct finds another stiff yesterday. Not too far from here. This one's better looking than the doc.

DEUTSCH: Female caucasian, thirty years old. Nice tits. No head. You ever see Mundt with anyone meets that description?

MASTRIONOTTI: But, you know, with the head still on.

MASTRIONOTTI: Yeah, and I'm Buck Rogers.

DEUTSCH: His name is Mundt. Karl Mundt.

MASTRIONOTTI: Also known as Madman Mundt.

DEUTSCH: He's a little funny in the head.

MASTRIONOTTI: Big fuckin' deal.

DEUTSCH: You want my partner to kiss your ass?

MASTRIONOTTI: Would that be good enough for ya?

DEUTSCH: Got a couple questions to ask ya.

MASTRIONOTTI: What do you do, Fink?

LOU: Yes, Colonel.

LIPNIK: Hell, I could take you through it step by step, explain why your story stinks, but I won't insult your intelligence. Well all right, first of all: This is a wrestling picture; the audience wants to see action, drama, wrestling, and plenty of it. They don't wanna see a guy wrestling with his soul well, all right, a little bit, for the critics but you make it the carrot that wags the dog. Too much of it and they head for exits and I don't blame 'em. There's plenty of poetry right inside that ring, Fink. Look at "Hell Ten Feet Square".

LOU: "Blood, Sweat, and Canvas".

LIPNIK: Look at "Blood, Sweat, and Canvas". These are big movies, Fink. About big men, in tights both physically and mentally. But especially physically. We don't put Wallace Beery in some fruity movie about suffering I thought we were together on that.

LIPNIK: Get down on your knees, you sonofabitch! Get down on your knees and kiss this man's feet!

LOU: Mr. Lipnik, please

LOU: Mr. Lipnik, I

LIPNIK: This man creates for a living! He puts food on your table and on mine! THANK him for it! Thank him, you ungrateful sonofabitch! Thank him or YOU'RE fired!

LOU: ...Maybe we should do a treatment.

LIPNIK: Ah, hell, let Bart take a crack at it. He'll get into the swing of things or I don't know writers. Let's make it a dame, Bart, keep it simple. We don't gotta tackle the world our first time out. The important thing is we all have that Barton Fink feeling, but since you're Barton Fink I'm assuming you have it in spades. Seriously Bart, I like you. We're off to a good start. Dammit, if all our writers were like you I wouldn't have to get so goddamn involved. I'd like to see something by the end of the week.

LIPNIK: ...Thanks Lou. Join us. Join us. Talking about the Wallace Beery picture.

LOU: Excellent picture.

LIPNIK: We got a treatment on it yet?

LOU: No, not yet Jack. We just bought the story. Saturday Evening Post.

LIPNIK: Okay, the hell with the story. Wallace Beery is a wrestler. I wanna know his hopes, his dreams. Naturally, he'll have to get mixed up with a bad element. And a romantic interest. You know the drill. Romantic interest, or else a young kid. An orphan. What do you think, Lou? Wally a little too old for a romantic interest? Look at me, a writer in the room and I'm askin' Lou what the goddamn story should be!

LOU: Mr. Fink hasn't given a preference, Mr. Lipnik.

LIPNIK: How's about it, Bart?