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Once settled into the Earle, Barton has to figure out what to do with his time or, more importantly, what's expected of him. He doesn't get very far though and soon his attention wanders, flitting from the dust-covered stationary and sagging mattress to the painted-shut windows and soggy wallpaper. This place is a dump but, even worse that that, the walls are paper-thin. Moans, clanks, voices and squeaks seep in, the signature of energetic love-making and ancient pipe-work. Despite himself Barton is entranced by these details, eager for a distraction from the business of creation. This is provided in spades by Charlie Meadows (John Goodman), his overwhelming and out-going neighbour. At last Barton has found an ordinary guy, someone who'll listen to his pretentious plans.
Beyond the peeling walls of his hotel room there is, of course, a city and in it resides Capitol studios, in the shape of Jack Lipnick (Michael Lerner). Starting Barton off on something easy, Lipnick doles out a Wallace Beery wrestling picture - nothing fancy, just the usual good wrestler/bad wrestler story. The problem is that Barton just can't get a grip on something that actually appeals to the common man, a topic as prosaic as wrestling. Crushed by deadline pressure and isolation, Barton finds some relief talking to Charlie, a man with many stories to tell. He isn't a writer though so Barton locates the most eminent author around, W.P.Mayhew (John Mahoney), and finds himself gazing into the chasm of his own future.
Barton Fink is in some ways the most symbolically rich film yet produced by the Coen brothers, both a blessing and a curse. An advantage is that the script can circumvent the usual narrative restrictions, relying on extraneous clues to indicate what's happening to Barton and how he feels. The flip-side of this is that Barton Fink is opaque, taking an indirect path in preference to boring directly to the heart of the matter. In consequence Barton is essentially disposable, an object which happens to represent the themes of selling-out and what people are really like behind their social image.
Around Barton a wonderfully detailed and extravagant visual backdrop has been created. From the moment he steps into the Earle there is an aura of unease, of how things aren't what the appear. The hotel porter Chet (Steve Buscemi) emerges from below like a bell-boy demon, never sleeping and overly curious. The only other visible staff member is a wizened elevator man, who may have heard of the Bible. Perhaps this doesn't just feel like hell to misguided literary star Barton, it really is Hell? No wonder the wallpaper is dripping in the humidity, oozing strangely carnal fluids - echoing the frustrations of both Barton and Charlie.
In tandem with their exquisite surroundings and sharp dialogue, both Turturro and Goodman produce excellent performances. The realisation of Barton's self- deception and pretentiousness comes quickly, but this later cedes to loss and vulnerability. Charlie also ends with some of these qualities but his "other side" is entirely more dangerous, suggestive of everything from serial-killers to the Nazi atrocities. Along with these elements, Barton Fink is also semi-autobiographical, with links to both the Coens and real historic Hollywood figures. This tangled web of associations imparts a feeling of depth, that there is a single unifying theme that isn't going to be spelt out. The Coen brothers are true to themselves and true to their audience but they sure don't accommodate the audience's lowest common-denominator.
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