Barry Lyndon

Martin Scorcese reportedly considers this to be Kubrick's best film. I must agree, and I would say it's his best by some fair margin. I've never seen a film with photography that even begins to approach that in Barry Lyndon. But everyone mentions the photography. The three things that most decisively set this film apart from all of Kubrick's others and really haven't been mentioned enough are its enormous heart, its uncompromising spirit, and the way it seems to suspend time over and over again, simultaneously standing still yet flowing along easily, almost breathlessly. If you watch it expecting A Clockwork Orange or The Shining, you'll be very disappointed and may end up calling it long and boring, but if you set aside an entire evening and surrender yourself totally to its magic, I swear you'll be looking for yourself in Stunland a few hours later. I's time to treat yourself to Barry Lyndon. You may be shocked at discovering what's been there for so long.

The beauty, the depth, and the mystery of this film are unsurpassable - what Kubrick was doing with light is just a miracle. Special lenses were designed to shoot interiors and exteriors in natural light. In one scene Barry (Ryan O'Neil) was having a dinner with a German woman who was feeding her baby and the candle light made the whole scene look like a Caravaggio's painting. This is just one of many scenes. Each of them is perfection and harmony. Costumes and sets were crafted in the era's design. Age of Enlightenment with its gallantry, wars, and duels, had been recreated in the film with the precision of the celebrated landscape and portrait masters of the period such as Thomas Gainsborough; Sir Joshua Reynolds, founder of the Royal Academy of Arts; George Romney to name just a few. If nothing else, watching BL is pure aesthetic delight - and there is one man who responsible for it, Stanley Kubrick. If ever divine film was made, "Barry Lyndon" was it and Kubrick could've quoted the Bible - "God looked at everything he had made, and he found it very good".

I've read the comments and articles that call "Barry Lyndon" cold, slow, boring, "the collection of pretty pictures', "flawed" masterpiece, and the most ridiculous one, "glittering ornament with a hollow center". I simply can't understand it. "Barry Lyndon" is the most compelling and compassionate realization of the inevitable finality of everything in this world which was presented by the visionary director with elegant sensual melancholy. Stanley Kubrick known for his detached, seemingly remote and non-sentimental style chose to reach out to his viewer directly during the epilogue, "It was in the reign of George III that the aforesaid personalities lived and quarreled, good or bad, handsome or ugly, rich or poor, they are all equal now". I don't recall any other movie that would illustrate the old wisdom, "everything will pass" in such sublime and deeply moving way.

Kubrick's adaptation of Thackeray's Barry Lyndon sharply divides fans of the great director's work, as the languid pace and seemingly interminable running time -- not to mention Ryan O'Neal's questionable performance in the title role -- are cherished by some and deplored by others. Little argument will be made against John Alcott's Academy Award-winning cinematography or Ken Adam's production design, however, and Kubrickian motifs are manifest in the gallery of characters' wide-ranging displays of cowardice, guile, duplicity, avarice, jealousy, greed, and cruelty. Marisa Berenson is terribly short-changed in her role as the Lady Lyndon, but a number of other performers are given the opportunity to create a handful of memorable moments -- especially Arthur O'Sullivan (albeit briefly) as the charming, intelligent highwayman and Patrick Magee as the Chevalier. Love it or hate it, Barry Lyndon will remain essential viewing for aficionados of the director, who enjoys taking his usual shots at the more discouraging aspects of human behavior.

In fact it's one of Kubrick's most gripping pictures, with a narrative drive second only to that of "Dr. Strangelove" (and it's unquestionably a more glorious creation than, say, anything he made in the 1950s). English director Michael Powell (while attributing a similar failing to one of his own works) says that Kubrick fell into "the trap of the picturesque", but while I admire Powell as a creator, the judgment is absurd: at the VERY least, each lush image shows us people not just occupying a part of the screen but inhabiting a world, and tells us much about their relation to that world. Many shots are indeed amazing and beguile the eye, but they don't have the effect they do simply because they would make nice postcards.

THIS, I feel sure (without having read Thackeray), is the proper way to adapt a long story from novel to screen. Each scene is either allowed as much time as it needs to make its point and its impact, or it's cut altogether - you won't catch Kubrick skating too quickly over his material for no better reason than to fit it all in. The third-person narration (consisting of witty, beautifully crafted sentences - it's about time I did read Thackeray) almost performs a kind of dance with the images, gliding in just when we need it, taking a step back when we don't. (So rarely is even third-person narration used so well.) And as always, Kubrick's musical sense is unerring. My impression at the time was that I was listening to mid-eighteenth century music that gave way to pieces from the classical era as the hero started to move in higher and higher circles. I was more or less right. But then I noticed Schubert's name in the credits - and I realised with a start that I'd been listening to, had even started tapping my feet to, a Schubert piece I was familiar with, without the anachronism registering.

It's a pity Kubrick stopped making epics after this. Look at the ones he's responsible for: "Spartacus" (not a project Kubrick was fond of, admittedly, but still the most magnificent of all Roman epics) "2001" (the most magnificent of ALL epics), and "Barry Lyndon". The last of the three is by no means a poor cousin.

In terms of story this is on the surface at least, the simplest thing Kubrick ever made. However in terms of the technical aspect, it must have been one of his most challenging. The plot is basically about how greed, arrogance and ignorance can easily become the ruin of a man. The story itself is well told, but mostly quite simple as I said. The humor keeps us interested in the story, as does its undeniable visual beauty. It is not a stretch to say that this must be among the most beautiful looking films ever made. Every scene is filmed in all natural light, whether it be by sun or fire, and the landscapes and architecture handpicked by Kubrick himself are amazing. As in all Kubrick films, so much attention to small details equates to a great result in the end. Spielberg himself has called this film "possibly the most beautifully shot film in history.".

In terms of story, it's entertaining, in terms of it's technical achievement, the film is a landmark. Even for all the story's simplicity, there is a startling statement in the film that certainly can give the viewer real pause and thought. The finality of this world, the equality of all things in the end. It is certainly an interesting, powerful and very humbling down to earth observation. It is the kind of worldly observation that could perhaps lead some people to ruin, and yet lead others to strive for perfection. Perhaps that is part of Kubrick's thinking here, a Kubrickian challenge if you will, as he certainly was always an artist that was challenging his viewers. That through this observation people may become more aware of what they're leaving behind in this world...as one day, we will all equally be gone. For all the things written about this film, it is probably not nearly as unimportant of a story as many critics have said of it. Then again, critics and moviegoers alike have long been trying to catch up to Stanley, and never the other way around. 8.5/10.