I knew I was entering the world of the insane when I picked this up. I wasn't disappointed. This is a dark comedy where people don't talk to each other, they just talk. Barton Fink is a big phony one hit wonder. He has these high ideals which he really doesn't understand. He's unable to see the forest for the trees. When he meets John Goodman's character, Charlie, he has an opportunity to find his muse, but he doesn't even listen. When he does, it's too late. The events of this film are wonderful, from Barton's speeches and his block. To Mayhew, the ersatz Faulkner, who drinks constantly and screeches. Barton Fink is so unlikeable that we don't even care what happens to him in other than a casual way. Goodman steals every scene he is in and ends up so much more that originally thought. This is a movie about taking everything to a higher pitch. It's about the artist and the dilettante. It's about the movies being a purely commercial enterprise. Wallace Beery is the king of the screen. It's a wrestling movie. For God's sake, they're asking for so little. Barton Fink is a whiny loser and he pays the price. The Coens are, without a doubt, the most refreshing thing of the last two decades.
