Barry Lyndon

I first saw Barry Lyndon about eight and a half months ago from now. I had been advised away from it on account of its boorishness, but I had seen those battle scenes and heard that score, and concluded this was a film I had to see. And see it I did; and not for one moment throughout its entirety, did I find myself remotely bored. In fact, I was heavily attracted to it. Seven Years' War era Europe, epic films of epic runtimes, and films of slow, brooding manners have long interested me. And so, today I re-watched it. I re-assimilated myself into the beautiful world of Barry Lyndon. And as I find myself often doing, I sat in front of a screen, and willingly thrust my time into the familiar hands of a man whom I respect more than perhaps any man ever to have existed, Stanley Kubrick. Barry Lyndon is the biopic of an Irishman of the same name, who, due to both his nature and circumstance, sees himself rise and fall through the ranks of the British class system, from a mere humble farmer to a man of great wealth amongst the very top of Britain's elites. But Redmond Barry, as he is initially introduced, is not a man deserving of a three hour epic. He is not a good person by any stretch of the imagination, nor is he an evil sadist. He is merely just a man; he is boorish, yet he leads a most interesting life; he is envious and brash, yet also meek and pathetic; he is a war hero, yet he is a traitor; he gains extraordinary wealth, yet never as a result of his personal endeavours. He is just a nameless face cast unto the body of a man who had ought to be revered in history books for centuries to come. I often see Barry Lyndon criticised for its completely undeserving protagonist, yet this serves a greater purpose. For above being an historical drama, Barry Lyndon is a satire - granted a dry satire, but a satire nonetheless. It is a satire on the idea of class and distinction. They live in such luxury and present themselves as the representatives of a period and of nations, yet they hold no integrity. Take Captain John Quin, a distinguished military officer who gets caught in a love triangle between Barry's cousin and Barry himself. Yet he quivers as he stands to duel Barry, only to be shot with tow in a prearranged duel where he would feign death. Or the people at the musical performance, who only shriek in horror and stand back at the witness of an assault. And Lyndon himself, who has a fling with his cousin and tries to duel an officer who will make the entire family wealthy. Lyndon, who betrays two different armies and becomes a war hero, without really facing much danger. Lyndon, who has an affair with a mother whose husband is fighting the war he deserted. Lyndon, who has an affair with the wife of a dying man, and gains his fortune. Lyndon, who wastes the entire fortune in his lavish spending. Lyndon, who is openly and unashamedly adulterous in front of both wife and children. Lyndon, who publicly assaults and duels his own son. Lyndon, who turns to being a drunkard and relies on his mother to care for him. This is our protagonist. This is the man who has had a multi-million dollar epic thrust upon his shoulders. But that is the point, for we live and we prosper and we flourish under our respective societies, but those societies are empty fallacies; illusions of life, which represent neither character nor virtue, and which are ultimately hollow. It's as if God had picked soil from the earth and cast a role of great historical importance unto whoever showed up in his palm. Lyndon is just a product of circumstance. But this isn't an emotionally bankrupt film, for I believe the ultimate goal of a picture, and of art in general is to make people feel. And Barry Lyndon makes you feel. Because those things that matter in Lyndon's life; his family; his friends; his wife; his children - they are the actual products of investment and substance for Barry's life. And it is his complete destruction of those that matter to him and the slow ebbing of their presence that makes this an ironic tragedy. This is a film that will make one laugh. This is a film that will make one deeply invested in the trials of its characters. And this is a film that will make one angry and uncomfortable and melancholic. The side characters in Barry Lyndon do too carry much depth. Every single character serves as a function to both Barry himself and the story itself, both literally and thematically. They are all investing, and all memorable. The dialogue is scarce. In fact, it would come to me as no shock to find out there is more narration than dialogue. But this is a film still with plenty of conversation, just wordless, visual conversation. And the dialogue that is said is excellent, and pays off greatly. The aforementioned narration too, works in line with the plot to further this sense of farcical, ironic importance. And the narration isn't trivial either, working effectively, both on its own as a useful tool for concealed exposition, and in sync with the picture. Barry Lyndon is also a film of an immensely slow pace. Plenty happens, but it works in motion with the plot and with the style. This doesn't feel rushed or insubstantial. Because Barry Lyndon is a film of sublime nature, feeling bigger than the film itself. And the pacing plays its part in maintaining this sublime, ironically superfluous nature. The screenplay of Barry Lyndon is the element that faces the most scrutiny under critical evaluation. However, these evaluations and criticisms of the disinteresting character and monotonous pace fail to see the immense genius behind it. I will say this bluntly: I believe Barry Lyndon has the greatest cinematography in the history of motion pictures. You may name your Lawrence of Arabias and your Godfathers and your Citizen Kanes, but they aren't Barry Lyndon. This is the only film I own on blu-ray, mainly because when I bought it, the only option was in a duel-disc format. However, if you were to ask me one film I could own on blu-ray, this would be that film. The shots themselves and the framing in Barry Lyndon are ingenious. Every single shot is layered, either by characters or by props or by elements, but they are nonetheless layered. And the way in which they are layered carries a deep and rich subtextual meaning. The choice in shot size is naturally befitting of the genre; wide. - Very wide. And in these wide shots, which give most potential for framing and blocking, there are entire stories told in singular frames. The foregrounds and backgrounds constantly enhance the middle ground. Characters are blocked in these scenes to deepen that significance. Take the scene where Barry's cousin and Quin talk in secrecy at the dining table. They are shown behind two different bodies on the edge of the frame in the foreground, to imply this secrecy. When they announce their marriage, Lyndon is distant, yet distinct in the middle of the frame. The lighting of Barry Lyndon is notorious. A common myth that natural lighting was utilised has been a testament to the incredible accuracy of this film. It's not only the use of brightness and shadows, but the way in which the scene is manipulated to make everything feel natural or candlelit. And by extension, the way in which this lighting is applied also carries an intellectual form. There are countless accounts of Kubrick using NASA-like lenses, ways in which artificial lighting is hidden, and ways in which natural light is manipulated too. And speaking of lenses, another important element of Barry Lyndon's cinematography is the use of lenses. There are innumerable examples of a facial emotion being displayed in a tight shot, only for the lens to zoom out into what can only be described as a painting. In fact, Kubrick studied Hanoverian paintings to replicate this style. And they perfectly embody this previously given emotion, an manifest it into a cold, distanced image. There are so many static images with the zoom lens either zooming out to create this painting-like feature, or zooming in to inspect this painting-like feature. Camera movements in general are incredible, even though the camera usually is still. But that extraordinary, seemingly impossible dolly forward combined with the zoom out from Barry's face to the entire infantry division is just outrageously good. The use of handheld cinematography during moments of violent outbursts or panic, amidst the usually silently contemptuous ways in which conflict is presented stand out too. On top of this, the mise en scène is unrivalled. The utilisation of props in the framing, the incredible costumes which bring colour and vibrancy and life to the images, and the gorgeous locations are what makes this cinematography so memorable. For you could also argue that this is the most aesthetically beautiful film ever made. I have written multiple paragraphs on the excellence of Barry Lyndon's cinematography, and I still feel as though I cannot do it justice. Though, after all, seeing is believing. This is the definition of 'every frame a painting'. The editing in Barry Lyndon is also excellent. It serves the picture and its tone, by being extremely slow, and letting the cinematography puff out its chest. That being said, the actual editing has an intellectual form and makes the viewer subconsciously experience and understand conflict. There was literally one cut throughout the entire film I didn't like, where the 30 degree rule is broken. Otherwise, it is theoretically effective, expertly flowing and works in perfect sync with the cinematography. The sound as well is a masterclass in sound editing. The way it (though subtly) is manipulated in relation to the film editing and the picture, for an artistic effect. The sound design is excellent and always adds a great deal to the scene. And the soundtrack, borrowing from the greats of the period, constantly hums over the film and is often the glue holding the moods and tones of scenes together. - Not to mention that by borrowing your soundtrack from Beethoven, Bach and Mozart, it's automatically good. But it is also the fact that it is applied so well to each scene that makes it great. The acting is all around perfect. It is no secret that despite usually not having all-star crews, Kubrick usually got the more out of his actors than any director, possibly ever. O'Neil works well in coming off as boring, yet irritating and petty. Leon Vitali genuinely made me despise Lord Bullingdon, yet simultaneously sympathise with him. And all of the other actors, whose characters I mentioned played a big role in the screenplay's success, also bring those characters to vibrant life. As in many unfortunate period dramas, there is no woodenness or uninvesting accents - only perfection. And perfection is perhaps the best word to describe Barry Lyndon. This is the most rigorously detailed and committed filmmaking I have perhaps ever seen, and the result is a testament to the fact. There are criticisms. I mentioned that one singular cut I didn't like. I also feel that Barry's disdain for and the length of time he spent in the army is not sufficiently explored. Some extra minutes could have been attributed to furthering on the fact that he spent five of the seven(/nine years if you want to be technical) of the Seven Years' War in the army. It's a minor criticism though, which is sort of remedied, but not to a satisfactory extent. I also believe that during the assault scene, the sounds of the shrieks feel kind of out of place with the crowd who don't seem to be making too much noise themselves - a minor and rare flaw in sound. Most of the time, I claim my five star films to be flawless, so I believe the minute and technical errors only really bring this down from about 97/100 to about 95/100. Barry Lyndon is technical mastery, as most admit. But it is also narrative mastery, and easily claims its stake as one of the greatest films ever made. I was in awe of this when I first saw it, and these nine months later, I still find my mouth ajar. 95/100