I come by this particular entry with joy in my heart. I was recently watching High Fidelity for the umpteenth time and I realized how effortlessly amazing this film is. It, in every way, encapsulates what I love about movies, music, and, strangely enough, people. Not just the ones who acted in the film, and they were great, but the ones who took the time to make it. I love the group of studio execs who took a chance and decided that this would be worth putting large sums of money on to get made. I love the four writers (D.V. DeVincentis, Steve Pink, Scott Rosenberg, and John Cusack) it took to nail down every single nuance that schmucks like me enjoy. I love the brain of the man who initiated this terrific story to begin with, Mr. Nick Hornby. I love the director, Stephen Frears, for finding that an original story set in his home country of England, could be easily translated to Chicago. And finally I love the comic ingenuity put in to a character, by a mid-range musician/comedian, that has warmed every single recess of my soul many times over since. Yes, Jack Black...this blog's for you.
Where do you start with Barry. How about we start with the fact that the character doesn't have a last name. I feel this makes he and his snob counterpart, Dick, great supporting characters. Like the Scarecrow, Tin Man, and Lion. They exist as comical, yet no less important backdrops to the story. Barry is the guy you want to see when things get a little heavy. Admit it! You may hate his overall attitude towards the people he interacts with on a daily basis, but you wanted to see him push his way in between the celluloid from when Rob is at Laura's dad's funeral and the moment he finally apologizes to her. If you could've had just a split second of him scream some profanity, you would've felt at ease. I would've, at least.
Yes, Barry is a musical snob. He, along with Rob and Dick, are referred to as "total elitists...you shit on everyone who doesn't know as much as you." Rob and Dick, MIGHT do that, but we KNOW Barry does. For those who may not know, Rob (John Cusack) owns a small record store in downtown Chicago, where Barry and Dick work. Almost every scene Barry is in, he's chastising a poor customer or Rob and Dick for their inability to know as much as he does. In one particular scene, during a busy day at the store, Barry is discussing Echo and the Bunnymen albums as compared to Jesus and the Mary Chain with a customer who seems close to the level of snobbery that he maintains. Watch closely how subtle Black makes Barry devoid of any pretension whatsoever. He's shocked to hear that his musical equal doesn't own Bob Dylan's "Blonde On Blonde", which he describes as "perverse". He picks up the album stacks it on top of the other vinyl the customer is about to purchase, hugs him and tells him, "It's gonna be okay." This is not a slick salesman trying to make a pitch or even the sale itself. This is a guy who doesn't want almost-certain verbal harm to befall a customer he actually respects. It's telling of the depth of the character.
Barry's entrance to the film is nothing short of wonderful. Rob and Dick are enjoying the newest Belle & Sebastian album over the sound system, when you hear the muffled, but soon obnoxious mouth guitar of Barry, as he walks into the store. He strolls in and you immediately know what this guy is all about. You just know that he has alienated almost every single friend he's ever had and destroyed any possibility of a happy relationship with a woman. He discards of the Belle & Sebastian tape, which he describes as "sad bastard music" and places his own mix into the system. It's "Walkin' On Sunshine" by Katrina and the Waves and it's played very loudly. From there he does the single greatest one-man dance in the history of one-man dances. All of this annoys Rob very much. Barry's intent is good, though, because he wanted the tape to be a Monday-morning "conversation stimulator". He may be brash in the way he goes about things, but his heart is in the right place.
He leaves the film as grandly as he entered it. Throughout the movie, Barry tries to convince Rob that he's a great singer. He's had a "musicians wanted" flyer hanging up in the store for a long enough time that Rob doesn't believe him. Eventually, a musician comes into the store showing interest to which both Rob and Dick find humorous. It's almost as if they feel sorry for the musician. He doesn't know what the hell he's about to get himself into. The last laugh is, of course, given to the court jester, when Barry is asked to play a record-release party put on by Rob that Rob desperately does not want him to play. Barry makes a quick little joke into the mic and moves directly into "Let's Get it On" by Marvin Gaye. We, the audience and everyone in the movie, are visibly shocked by what we hear. Barry can sing!! Dammit, the man wasn't lying!! He can REALLY sing!!! I love the moment so much, because I wanted to believe he could sing. I wanted to believe there was more to this human being than arcane, obscure music trivia knowledge. This moment works well, also, because in a short scene Rob tells his girlfriend, Laura, that Marvin Gaye and "Let's Get it On" are responsible for their entire relationship. To this day, I want to believe that Barry somehow knew this information and decided it'd be a nice little dedication for his friends Rob and Laura.
Take what you will from the character. Most people can't stand him. He isn't really that pleasant and I'm hard-pressed to find a moment where he shows much compassion, but the characters that are a bit harder to crack are always the better ones anyway. Jack Black took his persona to another level with this film. He has since become the ultimate clown of Hollywood; a man with a terrific poker face. I still don't know if I could take him seriously, since it's hard enough to trust his characters. I do know that Barry is a testament to Black's ability to find the deepest of depths in a character, but not show, for a single moment, that he has them.
