Barry’s Patrick Fischler Knows Why Cousineau Spilled the Beans to Vanity Fair

Patrick Fischler jumped at the chance to play a role on the final season of Barry. “I got a call just from my rep saying, ‘Hey, do you want to do this arc on Barry?’ And my answer before I even saw what it was was yes, because it’s Barry,” he says. Little did he know at the time that he’d be playing the part of journalist Lon O’Neil, who works for a little magazine called Vanity Fair. Ever heard of it? 

Over the course of three episodes, we see Lon track down Gene Cousineau (Henry Winkler)—who, despite strict instructions to the contrary, can’t help but tell the twisted story of his relationship with Barry (Bill Hader) to Vanity Fair. Unfortunately for Lon, his dedication to the craft of journalism sends him right into the clutches of Detective Jim Moss (Robert Wisdom), who uses his powers of interrogation and intimidation to infiltrate Lon’s brain, effectively killing the Cousineau story and leaving Lon a German-speaking shell of a man. “Who the hell knows what Jim did in that garage to this guy?” Fischler says. “In my mind, he’s mush…. I think Lot O’Neil leaves that house and gets on a plane and goes to Germany, and goes and lives among what he thinks are his people.”

Fischler, a veteran actor who’s made memorable appearances on every show from Mad Men to Lost to Twin Peaks: The Return, says that Hader, who directed every episode of the final season of Barry, was one of the best he’s ever worked with. “I’ve worked with some incredibly prestigious, amazing directors that have been wonderful,” he said. “But Bill has just blown me away.”

In a somewhat meta moment, fictional Vanity Fair writer Fischler chats with actual Vanity Fair about the trials and tribulations of being a journeyman actor, and how Lon O’Neil could afford a house with a pool on a print journalist’s salary.

Vanity Fair: How did you prepare to take on this role of a lifetime?

Patrick Fischler: They sent me a little blurb of what it was. [It] didn’t even say Vanity Fair, it said a reporter who needs to speak another language. I said, sure. And then I found out it was Vanity Fair, which I loved because I felt like you’re kind of clear who this guy is. It made it very specific for me, and I didn’t really need to do much. I had to then quickly learn German.

How was that?

That was the most challenging part of this whole thing, actually. German is not an easy language to quickly learn. I learned a little improv in German, because Bill lets us play after we shoot it. He’s so collaborative and so open. So I learned a little bit of extra lines in German so I could make sure that I could improv the scene. And of course the other people have no idea what I’m saying, which is brilliant.

Do you know what you’re saying? Because I actually didn’t know what you’re saying either. 

I think it’s literally “I have no idea who any of you are. I have to go back to my farm. I hope everyone’s okay.” It’s that kind of shit. He has no idea what’s going on. He has no idea any of these people are, and that’s what the lines are saying. I told Bill, “you guys should put subtitles.” He’s like, “nah.’ I think the whole idea is just that he’s just speaking German and they have no idea.

Obviously, we think it’s fun that Lon works for Vanity Fair, but it seems to makes sense from a storytelling perspective as well.  

Right away when we were rehearsing, I said, “I want him to be good at his job.” I think that’ll just make it more interesting. The fact that Bill picked Vanity Fair is…I mean, I think [Cousineau] is desperate for any spotlight he can find. But for a man like him, who’s always wanted to be on the cover, always wanted to be on that young Hollywood issue back in the ’90s—you know what I mean? That’s Cousineau.

What was it like watching Henry Winkler perform his one-man play?

It was amazing. Anyone you ever meet in your life will say this: Henry Winkler is the loveliest man in the world. He is a true mensch. On top of it, he’s so incredibly talented. So to have Bill write this amazing monologue for him, which, by the way, was much longer than they showed.