“Barry Lyndon” (1975)

Barry Lyndon

Grade: A+

Without a doubt, Stanley Kubrick’s Barry Lyndon is one of the most beautiful films ever made, a “moving picture” in the truest sense of the term: painterly; elegant; capable of making time stand still.

Directing:

Every single shot in Barry Lyndon looks like an 18th century painting, one of the only modern films to possess that older art form’s unique storytelling power, creating drama from imagery alone. Kubrick’s attention to detail in this movie is amazing, meticulous in the best way, treating his subjects as still lifes; stately action at a distance that is mesmerizing in its wide-canvassed composition.

Acting:

Led by a perfectly passive Ryan O’Neal as the titular morally bankrupt social climber, the eccentric cast delivers every action and line of dialogue with a calm aura of eloquence and cool detachment, allowing Barry Lyndon to succeed as both a realistic period drama and a hilarious satire.

Writing:

Even with a slow contemplative pace, an omniscient narrator who spoils the plot and a level of emotional restraint that is almost aggressive in its indifference, Kubrick’s three-hour adaptation of William Thackeray’s 1844 novel is never boring. What it lacks in surprise, it delivers in suspense, and in its minute observation of old-fashioned customs and codes of honor, it provides humor and wisdom in equal measure.

Music:

The baroque musical selections from Bach, Handel and Vivaldi are beautiful and majestic, slow and rhythmic, grand and grim, perfectly timed to match Kubrick’s camera movement — he’s probably the best filmmaker ever at doing that.

Ending (SPOILERS):

The entirety of Act II (“Containing an Account of the Misfortunes and Disasters Which Befell Barry Lyndon”) is a slow-motion tragedy of epic proportions, in which Barry loses his son, his leg and — worst of all — the high-society lifestyle he worked so hard to gain; a satisfying full-circle conclusion with a cosmically funny end-title card that really hammers home the pointlessness of everything.

Fate always wins; always will, and always has. A blunt, thought-provoking finale that recontextualizes the beautiful imagery as inconsequential artifice. Terrific ending — Kubrick might be the best at that too.

“Kiss me, my boy, for we’ll never meet again.” — Captain Grogan

Why Barry Lyndon gets an A+

On the short list of most beautiful films ever made, up there with Lean’s Lawrence of Arabia (1962) and Tarkovsky’s Mirror (1975).

---