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Quotes of Movie: Barton Fink [1991]
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Barton: Who cares about the fifth Earl of Bathsdrop and Lady Higgenbottom and... and... who killed Nigel Grinchgibbons? Charlie: I can feel my butt gettin' sore already! We're only interested in one thing, Bart. Can you tell a story? Can you make us laugh? Can you make us cry? Can you make us want to break out in joyous song? Is that more than one thing? Okay! Have you read the Bible, Pete? Pete: Holy Bible? Barton: Yeah. Pete: Yeah, I think so. Anyway, I've heard about it. Look upon me! I'll show you the life of the mind! | |
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What do you do, Fink? Barton: I write. Deutsch: Oh yeah? What kind of write? Barton: Well, as a matter of fact I write for the pictures. Mastrionotti: Big fuckin' deal. Deutsch: You want my partner to kiss your ass? Mastrionotti: Would that be good enough for you? 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... Mastrionotti: Jesus! Ain't that a load off! Started in Kansas City. Couple of housewives. Deutsch: Couple 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. Fink. That's a Jewish name, isn't it? Barton: Yeah. Mastrionotti: Yeah, I didn't think this dump was restricted. Look, you confused? You need guidance? Talk to another writer. Barton: Who? Geisler: Jesus, throw a rock in here, you'll hit one. And do me a favor, Fink: throw it hard. Sex? He's a man! We wrestled! Beauty: It's a beautiful day. Barton: Huh? Beauty: I said it's a beautiful day. Barton: Yes. It is. Beauty: What's in the box? Barton: I don't know. Beauty: Isn't it yours? Barton: I don't know. You're very beautiful. Are you in pictures? Beauty: Don't be silly. 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 going to say to you, Wallace Beery, wrestling, it's a B picture. You tell them: BULLSHIT! We do NOT make B pictures here at Capitol. Let's put a stop to that rumour RIGHT now! I don't pretend to be a critic, but lord knows I have a gut, and my gut tells me it's simply marvelous. Richard St. Claire: And a charming gut it is. Poppy Carnahan: Oh, you dog. Are you a trans or a res? Barton: A what? Chet: Transient or resident? Barton: Oh, I'll be here a long time. Indefinetly. Chet: Res. That'll be $25.50 a week payable in advance. Checkout time is twelve sharp, but you can forget about that on account of you're a res. Now if you need anything, anything at all, just pick up your personal in-room telephone and talk to me. My name is Chet. Although we do provide privacy for the residential guests, we are also a full-service hotel including complementary shoeshine. My name is Chet. [Writes his name on a slip of paper in capital letters with an exclamation point and passes it to Barton] Barton: Thanks... I run this dump, and I don't know the technical mumbo-jumbo. Why do I run it? Cause I got horse sense goddamit, SHOWMANSHIP! And also I hope Lou told you this, I am bigger and meaner and louder than any other kike in this town. Did you tell him that Lou? And I don't mean my dick is bigger than yours, it's not a sexual thing. You're a writer, you know more about that. Coffee? I sure do forget myself sometimes. Hell you've got it made writing for the pictures, beating out that competition, and me being patronizing! Is the egg showing, or what? What Ted Oakam doesn't know you could almost squeeze into the Hollywood Bowl. WP Mayhew? The writer? W.P. Mayhew: Just Bill please. Barton: [screaming] BILL! You're the finest novelist of our time. You are dripping sah. The doctor, what's he gonna tell me? Can't trade my head in for a new one. I could tell you stories to curl your hair, but it looks like you've already heard em. Beery wrestling picture? Could be a pip, could be a pip. I close my eyes I can almost smell the live oak. Audrey Taylor: That's chicken fat Bill. W.P. Mayhew: Well my olfactory's turning womanish on me, lying and deceitful. Me I just enjoy making things up. Yessah escape. Its when I can't write I can't escape myself, I want to rip my head off and run screaming down the street with my balls in a fruit pickers pail. [singing] Gone are the days when my heart was young and gay, gone are my friends from the cotton fields away, gone from the earth to a better land I know, I hear the gentle voices calling, old black Joe. I'm coming I'm coming, oh my head is bending low, I hear the gentle... the truth my honey is a tart that does not bear scrutiny. Breach my levee at your own peril! | |
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