Barton Fink - "I'll Show You the Life of the Mind!"

Barton Fink is a challenging movie in general, but in particular to me in the Coen filmography. Their previous film, Miller’s Crossing, is one of my favorites because it can be analyzed or simply enjoyed. Barton Fink, on the other hand, has to be analyzed. Once you get to the flaming hallway, there’s no way you can say, “I enjoy Barton Fink because I can just turn my brain off and enjoy it.” And that’s fine, but it also makes it one of their least rewatchable movies for me. 

I know Barton Fink is great, but I just don’t enjoy it all that much. Perhaps that’s the point, but I’ve always found the Coen Brothers to be particularly adept at showing awful things while injecting humor into it. There’s a little bit of humor in Fink (the aggressive detectives come to mind as well as Michael Lerner’s insane studio exec), but nowhere near as much as in A Serious Man, another film largely about suffering, but much funnier.

Of course, humor is subjective, so others may find this perfectly enjoyable on a surface level. But I feel the need to develop a theory each time I watch it. I usually land in the “John Goodman is the devil” territory, but I’ve always found that a bit too simplistic and obvious, what with the flames and the Hitler line. Also, the guys on Blank Check with Griffin and David made me feel like a basic bitch for having this theory on their episode about the film. So this time I wanted to hammer down a slightly more specific theory.

The Hotel Earle as a metaphor for hell is obvious, but that doesn’t make it wrong. But I don’t find it to mean literal hell for Barton, and I don’t find it to be purgatory, either. Instead, I see it as a hell of the mind. Dante’s famous line from Paradise Lost encapsulates my thoughts on this film: “The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven.” 

I think that Barton Fink has created this hell of the mind due to his writer’s block and insecurities as a writer and champion of the “common man.” In this self-made hell, the common man, Charlie Meadows, comes across as a jovial friend, but underneath that façade is suffering and violence. Barton, despite his constant claims otherwise, doesn’t know anything about the common man and finds him inferior and an object of pity. Because of this, his subconscious has created Charlie to show how little he truly knows, or perhaps fears he doesn’t know.

This common man that Barton thinks he is championing lives in a hell Barton cannot understand. As Charlie tells him, “”You’re just a tourist with a typewriter.” Barton is no savior for the common man; he’s just using them as exploitation in his writing. This conflict slowly builds up over the course of the film until the true Charlie is unleashed with his fiery vengeance, shouting, “I’ll show you the life of the mind!” It’s a taunting callback to Barton’s earlier tone-deaf complaint about the suffering he withstands exploring the life of the mind. 

It takes multiple murders and literal hellfire for Barton to finally understand that he actually doesn’t understand anything. This revelation isn’t glorious; it’s more simple acceptance. Now that he knows that he’s a bit of a fraud and is trapped in a contract with the studio, he can try to find some kind of peace within the misery, as exemplified in the final shot in which he is now in the picture that previously represented serenity. So he’s not the voice of the people he thought he was and working for the pictures was an artistic mistake (though not a financial one), but he’s no longer in a hell of the mind.

In that way, I don’t find Barton Fink to be about writer’s block (even though it was famously written while the Coens faced writer’s block while writing Miller’s Crossing). It’s about finding peace as an artist in the face of capitalism. Barton taking the job in Hollywood in the first place is accepting defeat, but it took the manic episode in the hotel to come to terms with it. And in the end, he gets to experience a little bit of the life of a common man by doing a job he hates and simply existing, though he’s certainly making a lot more money than the common man. 

In the end, he isn’t in heaven or hell; he’s just a working writer. And perhaps his work won’t ever be important (or even produced, if Michael Lerner can help it), but he’ll get by. It’s a fairly dark message about the creative process in an industry driven by money, but it’s true. You’re not going to change the world by writing wrestling pictures, and no one wants you to, anyway. So pull your head out of your ass and do your job. 

That’s not to say this film is about how Hollywood is completely devoid of creativity and humanity. It’s just that you shouldn’t expect to change the world, and instead you have to navigate it properly and fight the battles you can win. For a movie that is largely surreal, the message (at least for me) is one of reality: you can make life hell for yourself by fighting against its very nature, or you can accept defeat and just get by, and perhaps find a piece of heaven every now and then, even if you find it while holding a box with a severed head inside. Those wacky Coens…

Random Thoughts / Favorite Quotes

I’m sorry for using “common man” so many times, but so does Fink, so it couldn’t be helped.

By no means do I find my interpretation legitimate or definitive. It’s just how I felt with this recent rewatch. In that way, I’ve learned to enjoy this movie a bit more, but it’s still a bit of work, and my favorite Coen movies can be enjoyed through interpretation or on the surface.

There’s a lot of anti-Semitism and World War II stuff in the film. As far as the inclusion of that stuff in the hotel, I chalk it up to Barton’s subconscious fears. That also explains why the detectives (one Italian named and one German named) are so aggressive. These are base fears manifesting themselves in these characters in the life of the mind.

“Chet!”

On the elevator trip when Barton first arrives, the word “six” is spoken three times. Get it? Get it?!

“A day or a lifetime!”

Getting some strong Lynch vibes. I was not as well-versed the last time I watched this. The sound design, set decoration, the framing, etc. All of it is very Lynchian.

“Sex? He's a man! We wrestled!”

“You're a sick fuck, Fink.”

“You read the Bible, Pete?”

“The Holy Bible?”

“Do you see what happens, Barton Fink, when you won't shut up about the common man?!”

Miller's Crossing - "Jesus, Tom!"

My favorite films of all time all share one quality: they can be studied deeply and have numerous theories applied to them, or you can shut your brain off and just enjoy the world of the film. And both styles of viewing are equally enjoyable. Miller’s Crossing is one of those films, making it one of my favorite Coen Brothers movies, possibly my overall favorite (I’ll post my ranking once I get to the end of their filmography in a few months). Most of the films in the Coen filmography can be viewed this way, but what sets Miller’s Crossing apart is that it almost dares you to analyze it.

“Jesus, Tom!”

The phrase “Jesus, Tom” is said eight times in the film (seven, if you’re watching the Criterion cut), along with a single utterance each for “Tom, Jesus,” and “Christ, Tom” along with countless variations of “Jesus” as an exclamation. It happens too many times to be ignored. Much like the focus on hats, it begs you to find meaning, even if the Coens don’t necessarily mean anything by it. 

For the record, I don’t buy their bullshit in interviews when they claim most of their potentially symbolic elements are just random. But I also don’t like filmmakers flat out telling audiences what things mean, so good for them. There’s probably a more solid theory to be worked out with the hats along the lines of them representing order and control. But the hat stuff never interested me that much. Tom as Jesus on the other hand…

Like most theories applied to Coen films, this isn’t clear cut or perfect by any means. This is not a one to one story of Christ. But the dialogue and Tom’s sacrifice for Leo make it worth thinking about. 

I don’t find Tom all that Christ-like beyond taking on other people’s problems and “saving” them. Instead, I like to think of Tom as Jesus if Jesus Christ was kind of a dick who didn’t give a shit. Tom is a bit of a drunken smartass asshole throughout the film, but you still root for him because he still seems better than those around him. It’s as if this world operates on a set course and only Tom’s actions can alter that course.

Tom is a selfless person, but not in a holy way. He’s self-destructive with his drinking and gambling, and though others offer to save him throughout the film, he insists on taking care of things himself, even if it means taking a beating or even dying. 

So when Leo sets a course for destruction by protecting Bernie, Tom realizes he must ruin his relationship with Leo (and Verna) to save Leo. But he doesn’t do this in a kind savior way. He’s a dick about it, because it’s annoying to him. He knows there are beatings in the future, all because Leo fell in love.

When Leo pronounced his love for Verna, Tom knew he could not salvage his friendship. First off, he’s in a relationship of his own with Verna, which is bad enough. But he also wants Leo to be happy more than he wants happiness for himself. 

You would think committing adultery would be enough to discredit a Jesus theory, but Tom is also a murderer. Killing Bernie might appear to be a cold-blooded moment of revenge for Tom, and it most likely is to a degree, but it’s also what saves Leo and Verna’s relationship. Tom knows there’s no going back to Verna after killing her brother. She’s now free to return to Leo, who Tom knew would always take her back because he’s a sap.  

Between all the supposed or real double crosses and the affair and the murder, Tom has created an untenable situation. By the time the smoke clears, his actions have led to Leo being back on top with no real threats, but he can’t be a part of it. Like Jesus, now that his mission of salvation is complete, it’s time to move on.

Obviously, it’s easy to poke holes in this theory, but it’s fun to think about it when you’ve watched a movie a dozen times and want to add new meaning to it. I still prefer to let the music of the dialogue of Miller’s Crossing wash over me (it’s really hard not to ask people “What’s the rumpus?” after watching this) rather than do the homework of counting how many times a character says “Jesus.” And the Coens would probably utterly dismiss any comparison between Jesus and Tom. But they know what they’re doing when they put that phrase in the script so many times. It’s there for humor (especially when they have Steve Buscemi say it), but they also like laying little theory traps in their movies for dorks like me, and I’ll gladly take the bait from time to time. And other times, I’ll just “let it drift.” With the Coens, both options are great.

Random Thoughts / Favorite Quotes

It is absolutely insane that Jon Polito was 38 when they filmed this. I would've guessed 50 at the youngest. In fact, Gabriel Byrne was born six months earlier than Polito, yet Polito calls him “kid” multiple times. He’s an all time young old dude.

“Youse fancy pants, all of youse.”

“Friends is a mental state.”

J. E. Freeman is giving an all-time sneering performance in this.

I always liked the Vinny Vedecci skits on SNL in which Bill Hader as Vedecci would interview celebrities for his Italian talk show but the guests don’t speak Italian. Every skit would include a moment when Vedecci’s son, played by Bobby Moynihan would interrupt, dressed in an old-timey sailor outfit. He asks a question and the guest’s response makes him cry, and Vedecci has to calm him down with cigarettes and wine. It’s random as shit, unless you’ve seen Miller’s Crossing. Johnny Caspar’s son first appears in a sailor outfit, and later in the film Caspar hits him, causing him to have a crying fit (though he doesn’t give him a cigarette or wine). Hader, a known cinephile, clearly decided to pay homage to Caspar’s son in the Vedecci skit. He’s never acknowledged it in any interview that I could find, though Moynihan’s Wikipedia page states that the character is based on Caspar’s son, but there isn’t a citation for this. Either way, I think it’s pretty clear that this is the source of the SNL character. It’s just one of those great, random things Hader injected into his comedy.

Mike Starr really looks like his feelings are hurt after Tom hits him with the chair. His “Jesus, Tom,” is the best in the film, and it’s crazy that the Coens cut it out of the Criterion version of the film. I’m fine, I guess, with them “tightening things up” or whatever with these releases, but cutting that line baffles me.

“You got a lip on you. That’s all right. I don’t generally care for it. But that’s all right.”

“I forgive you.”

“I didn’t ask for that, and I don’t want it.”

This film presents the violence of gangster films so commonplace that it’s comedic. First, characters just treat it as part of the life, as evidenced by Tom and O’Doyle’s reaction to gunfire erupting during the raid on Caspar’s club. They don’t duck and cover; they just shrug it off as the typical bullshit you deal with in this world. 

Then there’s the attempted hit on Leo, in which he’s granted infinite ammo when he retaliates. If the amount of ammo wasn’t a clear indicator of the humor, then the way the goon dies in the window should solidify it as he goes all herky-jerky and shoots a complete circle around himself (including his own toes). And there’s the Sam Raimi cameo with the twitching body and the ridiculous firepower in that scene which rivals something out of a Naked Gun movie. 

The treatment of violence in Miller’s Crossing as both brutal and comic is one of the many reasons why I love it. The Coens have this rare ability to ride this line between sincere gangster noir and a parody of it. It’s a bit of having your cake and eating it, too, but why the fuck shouldn’t you eat cake if you have it? That saying is stupid as shit, as is the criticism it implies.

Blood Simple - The Best DVD Commentary of All Time

Blank Check with Griffin & David recently started their series on the Coen Brothers, so I’ve decided to write something about every movie as I follow the podcast (except for the ones I’ve previously written about: Raising Arizona, No Country for Old Men, A Serious Man, True Grit, and Inside Llewyn Davis [unless some kind of inspiration strikes upon a rewatch]). First up is their debut film, Blood Simple.

I’ve always liked Blood Simple, but it wasn’t the first Coen Brothers movie I watched, so my expectations were a bit too high. It’s darkly comic and features plenty of their hallmarks, but when you start with Raising Arizona, Miller’s Crossing, Fargo, The Big Lebowski, etc., and then check out Blood Simple, it can be a little underwhelming. Years removed from all that, I can start to appreciate this movie a bit more. But this time around, it was the DVD release that I own that interested me the most. 

When Blood Simple debuted on DVD in the early 2000s, it was a director’s cut of the film. The Coens went back and tightened things up (making this one of the rare shorter director’s cuts), and replaced a Neil Diamond song with their original choice of “It’s the Same Old Song” by The Four Tops. None of this mattered to me because I’ve never seen the theatrical cut (they did something similar with Miller’s Crossing, but that time it did annoy me, but I’ll get to that in a couple weeks). But they released this director’s cut at the height of cinephiles being annoyed with directors changing their movies, most notably George Lucas’s Star Wars Special Editions and Spielberg editing the guns out of E.T. I bring this up because the DVD release features a couple very strange elements that seem to be directly addressing the decision to tweak the film. 

The movie begins with an introduction from the owner of the fictitious Forever Young Films, describing how modern technology has allowed the film to be updated by taking out the “boring parts” and upgrading the audio using the “Lucas method.” This apparently played theatrically before the film when it was re-released, as well. It’s a little tongue-in-cheek acknowledgement that they, like the name-checked Lucas, have gone back and messed with their film with modern technology and years of experience to present their original vision. 

That would be plenty enough of a little in-joke for film fans, but for the DVD they added one much more ambitious bit of fuckery: a commentary track from Kenneth Loring (Jim Piddock) of Forever Young Films. The introduction was just a couple minutes long, but this commentary goes the entire film, and Piddock never breaks character. And, according to the few sites I could find that discuss the commentary, the Coens actually wrote the entire track. The dedication to the joke is funny in itself, but the commentary features plenty of legitimately funny nonsense.

I’m not going to transcribe this thing or anything (especially since there are a number of other articles that have already summarized most of it), but I did want to point out my favorite moments. Easily my favorite part is the claim that a fly was digitally created for a scene, but since it was 1984, it took so much computer power that it overloaded the mainframe and shut off power to the city for two days. The power outage also deleted months of work on the fly, which led one animator to commit suicide. Loring also claims that a dog is actually an animatronic. The opening scene in the car was filmed backwards and upside down. Fred Astaire was approached to be a body double. There was an entire Bulgarian subplot cut from the original film. Loring has an ongoing feud with someone named Adrian Butts, and he once had a bit of a run-in with Nick Nolte. Just a ton of utter bullshit that does that magical thing in comedy of being funny, then being tiresome, then becoming funny again. 

The commentary is funny for its absurdity alone, but it’s also amusing as a satire on commentary tracks. As a dork who has listened to far too many of these things, I appreciated that Loring over-explained most scenes to the point that he would just describe what was happening on screen, which is something surprisingly common on these tracks. It’s a great example of how silly and pretentious a lot of these tracks can be. Of course, I am a fan of filmmakers and others over-discussing a film, but I can appreciate the comedy of this fake track and acknowledge that a lot of commentary tracks are filled with pointless bullshit. One could argue that a movie should just be watched, and a commentary track is a needless distraction. 

That’s why it’s my favorite commentary track of all time, even besting Schwarzenegger's track on Conan the Barbarian (“I’m just getting laid a lot in this movie. It’s amazing.”) and Affleck’s savagely honest track for Armageddon. It’s the best kind of spoof: it’s funny on its own and as a…uh…commentary on commentaries. 

It’s also interesting in what it says about the Coen Brothers. They clearly felt self conscious enough about tweaking their film with that fake intro. But to go to the trouble of writing a whole fake commentary shows that they find navel-gazing and revisiting old work to be a little ridiculous, even if they were doing it themselves. It’s the kind of self-deprecation I love: you acknowledge your faults as an excuse to indulge in them. Of course, I can’t find any real evidence that they actually wrote the whole commentary, and it’s probably likely that Piddock was allowed to improvise a lot of it. So perhaps it was more of a silly afterthought for them to include on the DVD rather than a real statement about any of this kind of stuff. But it is odd that there has never been a real acknowledgement of this track aside from sites like mine posting about it. 

It wasn’t included on the Criterion release, either, which is why, I assume, that Griffin from Blank Check failed to mention it on their episode about Blood Simple because he bought the Criterion release rather than the old DVD. I’m not sure why it wasn’t included. I suppose it could be some kind of rights issue, but typically the old supplemental materials carry over onto Criterion editions, so I wonder if the Coens didn’t want it on there. Unfortunately, there are a lot of unanswered questions with this commentary, but that doesn’t take away from how fun it is. 

At the very least, the fake commentary on Blood Simple’s original DVD release is another example of why physical media is vital. Weird little special features like that are becoming more and more rare as the physical media landscape leans more into specialty releases. So it’s nice to have a copy on hand to revisit from time to time to get a few laughs and think about how ashamed the Coens were to go back and use the “Lucas method” on their first film.

Raising Arizona - "We're Set to Pop Here, Honey."

I’m starting something new with my friend Ben Malcomson this month. On his podcast, Chapters, Ben wanted to start having a movie night once a month or so. He asked me to pick the first movie to discuss, and I went with Raising Arizona. As with the other podcasts I’ve done in the past with Ben and his brother Robie, I’ve written an article as part of my preparation for the show. I’m not sure how much crossover there will be with this and that, so be sure to check out the podcast along with reading my article. And while you’re at it, go ahead and subscribe to Ben’s YouTube channel for the show (I linked to it above, but I’ll also include a link here). That way, you get reminders of all the episodes he does (most of his shows consist of a guest he knows discussing life in general or specific topics like the loss of a loved one). Ben’s podcast is wide-ranging, and you get to hear real stories from real people. And if you subscribe, you’ll also see every time I do a movie episode with him. 

Stupid Smart

Raising Arizona has always stuck with me because of how silly and smart it is at the same time. When I was a kid and watched it, I loved it for the goofy characters, action, accents, and dialogue; it was like a live action cartoon. 

When I watch the film as an adult, I now appreciate all the work the Coen brothers put into the script to make it goofy and profound at the same time. It takes a bit of genius to make something stupid on the surface and brilliant underneath the comedy. They created such an amazing and unique world in their cinematic Arizona that the film can be enjoyed two ways: brain on or off.

My preferred method for watching Raising Arizona is with my brain off. That way, I can just enjoy Nicolas Cage and Holly Hunter going all in with their accents and quirks. An unleashed Cage is always great (though according to some interviews, the Coens had to keep reeling him in), but Holly Hunter gets better every time I watch it. Her bursts of emotion throughout the film (“I love him so much!” and “You son of a bitch!”) are among the funniest moments in the movie.

Then there are the side characters. John Goodman and William Forsythe are the standouts. But Sam McMurray and Frances McDormand are close seconds. And Trey Wilson has some great moments as Nathan Arizona nee Huffheinz. 

Raising Arizona is at its best when you can just sit back and watch all these actors embrace the silliness of the world. But when you turn your brain on, you realize you’re dealing with an actually deep and dark story.

This is a film about a couple that cannot conceive who, in a moment of desperation, decide to kidnap a baby. A bounty hunter called the “lone biker of the apocalypse” shows up to find the baby (for the highest bidder). Hi’s ex-con friends steal the baby and take it with them to a bank robbery, eventually forgetting the child on the roof of the getaway car. And on and on. It takes a very smart script to turn something so dark into a goofy live action cartoon.

Immature Maturity

Focusing on the seriousness of the story of Raising Arizona made me realize just how much this movie is about the two main characters overcoming their immaturity to be able to start a family. It’s a funny film because immature people are funny at times, but that also distracts the viewer from how unfit they are to be parents.

Hi is obviously too immature for a family life. He seems to just be going along with everything to keep Ed happy. When he attempts to steal a baby the first time, it turns into a prolonged skit. It’s funny, but when he reports back to Ed, Hi describes it as “horrifying.” The babies and Glen and Dot’s kids are presented to Hi as complete chaos that he cannot handle. Not to mention he flat out admits he can’t handle it to Glen, and while in prison he tries to argue that being a criminal is a substitute for family life. Speaking of prison, the abduction of the child prompts the “birth” of Gale and Evelle into the situation, further confirming Hi’s inability to live a “normal” life. And then there’s the whole thing of unleashing the lone biker of the apocalypse, but I’ll come back to that in a minute.

Hi is the clearly immature character of the film, but Ed is no more prepared than Hi; she just wants a responsible life more, that doesn’t make her ready for such a life. First off, she married Hi. I’m all about giving people second (or third or fourth or fifth, etc.) chances, but Ed has to know that marrying such a “repeat offender” is a risky bet. And it’s her idea to kidnap a baby. Ed’s no more ready for taking care of the baby than Hi is. Sure, she feeds him a bottle and sings to him a few times, but when Dot shows up asking fairly basic questions about the baby’s shots and future, she’s as clueless as Hi. And she’s partly responsible for unleashing the biker.

The lone biker of the apocalypse is mainly Hi’s demon, since they share a tattoo and Hi envisions unleashing him. But Ed’s decision to steal a baby is the primary factor in unleashing him. There’s also a scene in which Hi seems surprised that Ed can see him, too. I know that the biker actually exists, otherwise the scene between him and Nathan Arizona is impossible. But the world of Raising Arizona is not the real world (just look at how unpopulated the world is during the action sequences, and generally amplified every person seems to be), and I would argue that they literally unleashed the biker into the world with their shared inability to be responsible parents.

Once Hi and Ed defeat the biker, they come to their senses and return the baby. And, taking Nathan’s advice, decide to take a night to decide whether or not they should split up. Based on Hi’s dream, they stay together and end up producing a great family and life together. This is only possible once they’ve both conquered their immaturity. By destroying the biker and Hi making a clear break with Gale and Evelle, they have proven that their past is behind them, and they’re ready to move on and start a family together. 

This is why I love Raising Arizona so much. It’s such a fun, goofy take on the age-old theme of being ready to have kids. As a parent myself, watching this film now adds another level of enjoyment as I realize that, while funny, this film is more about a couple growing past their selfishness so that they can fully commit to taking care of a child.

Why Do I Own This?

I own nearly every Coen Brothers film. They are two of my favorite filmmakers of all time, so of course I own one of their best films.

Random Thoughts / Favorite Quotes

I love nearly every word of dialogue in this film, but writing them does not do it justice. The accents and performances add so much to each line.

I love how Hi pronounces "pennant."

"I tried to stand up and fly straight, but it wasn't easy with that sumbitch Reagan in the White House."

"You ate sand?"

"One day, I decided to make my own crawdad. I threw it in the pot, but without the water. It was just like making popcorn."

"You're not just telling us what we want to hear?"

"No, sir. No way."

"Because we just want to hear the truth."

"Well, then I guess I am telling you what you want to hear."

"Boy, didn't we just tell you not to do that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, then."

"Howdy, Kurt."

Okay, this section is pretty much just going to be every quote in the movie…

"There's this spherical object resting in the highway...and it's not a piece of the car!"

I think The Departed ripped off the beginning of this movie by putting the credits so far into the film.

The sequence with the babies would work just as well as a silent movie.

Something I never noticed until I had kids was how ridiculously huge babies are in movies. These kids are supposed to just home from the hospital, and they're crawling around and everything. I suppose some time may have passed, but the movie makes it seem like Cage kidnaps the kid the day after he reads about them coming home.

Holly Hunter's hysterical "I love him so much" and Cage's response still crack me up.

Who better than John Goodman and William Forsythe to play two metaphorical babies being born in the mud?

"I thought you said your folks was DEAD, H.I."

"We thought Junior should see their final resting place."

"They were jammies. They had Yodas and shit on 'em!"

Nathan Arizona's talk about "leads" reminds me of the cop talking about the Dude's stolen car in The Big Lebowski.

"Awful good cereal flakes, Ms. McDunnough."

"We went to adopt on account that something went wrong with my semen."

"Say, that reminds me."

If you weren't convinced this movie was a live action cartoon already, then you get the bonkers chase sequence out of nowhere, which includes a cop leaning out of a car shooting erratically in a neighborhood.

"Son, you got a panty on your head."

They're argument after Cage robs the convenience store is fucking fantastic. Hunter's line reading of "things have got to chaaaaaaange!" and Cage blaming his criminal nature on coming from a long line of frontiersmen and outdoor types.

"Nathan Junior accepts me for who I am, and I think you better had, too."

"You're young, and you got your health. What do you want with a job?"

Glen has a "Caution: I drive naked" sticker on his car.

Cage scraping his knuckles on the popcorn ceiling during the fight is great.

I'll take this trailer fight over the one in Kill Bill Vol. 2 any day.

The store clerk in this movie is amazing.

"Unless round is funny."

"Well, which is it, young feller? You want I should freeze or drop to the ground?"

The ending reminds me of No Country. It’s a description of a dream (though this one is shown) followed by a mundane line, in this case: “I don’t know. Maybe it was Utah.”

There’s a YouTube video about Hi’s tattoo signifying that he’s part of a white supremacist prison gang called the Woodpeckers. I don’t buy it, mainly because the woodpecker he has tattooed on his arm is the logo called Mr. Horsepower for Clay Smith Cams. The video argues that Hi doesn’t seem to care too much about cars because his own car is so plain. But trust me, there are plenty of poor ass dudes driving shitboxes that are still into cars. I just think retroactively outing characters as racists is the new thing to do (kind of like in the 1990s when it was cool to look back through history and claim every significant figure was secretly gay). The dude in the video makes a decent argument, but I can’t imagine that the Coen brothers had such an intention with the tattoo. I think it was just something they thought a guy like Hi would have, and it worked as a visual signifier that Leonard Smalls (who has the same tattoo) was the human representation of Hi’s unreadiness for “adult” life.