Barton Fink

---

Barton nods and looks at the woman.

...and Poppy Carnahan. We're drinking champagne,

dear boy, in honor of the occasion. Have you seen

the Herald?

Barton looks sullenly at his champagne glass as the fat man fills it.

BARTON:

Not yet.

MAN:

Well, I don't want to embarass you but Caven could

hardly contain himself. But more important, Richard and

Poppy here loved the play.

POPPY:

Loved it! What power!

RICHARD:

Yeah, it was a corker.

BARTON:

Thanks, Richard, but I know for a fact the only fish

you've ever seen were tacked to a the wall of the yacht

club.

RICHARD:

Ouch!

MAN:

Bravo! Nevertheless, we were all devastated.

POPPY:

Weeping! Copius tears! What did the Herald say?

MAN:

I happen to have it with me.

BARTON:

Please Derek -

POPPY:

Do read it, do!

DEREK:

"Bare Ruined Choirs: Triumph of the Common Man. The

star of the Bare Ruined Choirs was not seen on the stage

of the Belasco last night - though the thespians involved

all acquitted themselves admirably. The find of the evening

was the author of this drama about simple folk - fish

mongers, in fact - whose brute struggle for existence

cannot quite quell their longing for something higher. The

playwright finds nobility in the most squalid corners and

poetry in the most calloused speech. A tough new voice in

the American theater has arrived, and the owner of that

voice is named . . . Barton Fink."

BARTON:

They'll be wrapping fish in it in the morning so I guess

it's not a total waste.

POPPY:

Cynic!

DEREK:

Well we can enjoy your success, Barton, even if you can't.

BARTON:

Don't get me wrong - I'm glad it'll do well for you, Derek.

DEREK:

Don't worry about me, dear boy - I want you to celebrate.

BARTON:

All right, but I can't start listening to the critics, and I

can't kis myself about my own work. A writer writes from

his gut, and his gut tells him what's good and what's...

merely adequate.

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