Titus wrote:I typically go the more conventional route and claim that none of it is in his head. The film never really shifts in it's atmosphere, it's surreal throughout the entire picture, so there are no tonal changes to really clue the audience in.
I dunno 'bout that. I think the first bit with Fink in New York is pretty straightforward and not very surreal. It's not until he goes to L.A. signified by that shot of the water crashing loudly against that rock that things start to get weird. Hence, the theory that everything starts to take place in Fink's head once he arrives in L.A.
I think the picture is primarily dealing with Fink's ignorance and arrogance.......why would Fink all of a sudden reach his epiphany through dreaming about his shortcomings? It's possible, but I don't personally buy it. I think the Meadows/Mundt character is real, and despite being a few bricks short upstairs, is a character of overwhelming sincerity and pathos.
Yeah, until he has his freak out at the film's conclusion and goes on a kill crazy rampage. I ran across an interesting quote from Joel Coen where he talks briefly about the hotel being an extension of Goodman's character:
The hotel had to be organically linked to the movieâ€â€it had to be the externalisation of the character played by John Goodman. Sweat falls from his brow like wallpaper falls from the walls. At the end, when Goodman says he's a prisoner of his own mental state, that it's like a hell, the hotel has already taken on that infernal appearance.
I always felt that once in L.A. the world Fink inhabits is a hellish nightmare of his own mind. His writer's block really puts the zap on him and makes him start hallucinating -- i.e. the Bible that begins as his screenplay does, the odds sounds that the hotel makes, the lack of people in it, etc.
I think that the key is the woman in the picture. That is the idealized place for Fink, a la the Lady in the Radiator for Henry in
Eraserhead. And I think that once he discovers that picture and starts daydreaming about it that he's lost in his own private space.
I've certainly contemplated the dream theories, but I just don't think any of them hold up. The only one that makes a lick of sense to me is the idea that everything in the hotel is simply a microcosm of what's going on in his brain, and that the hellish hotel is a visual representation of his anguish. But it's too poorly developed for me to latch onto.
How so? I think that the film's climatic conclusion in the burning hotel corridor is too fantastical to be taken literally. I mean, I guess you could but it seems in keeping with the notion that this is just part of a nightmarish hell of Barton's design.
Whatever the case, it's a film with almost infinite rewatchability. It's one of my absolute favorites of the 90's, and second only to Miller's Crossing in the Coen Brothers' canon.
Agreed. I really dig this film as well... although,
The Big Lebowski is right up there as well.