Grave, painterly, and bitterly satirical, BARRY LYNDON baffled viewers who expected picaresque breeziness along the lines of TOM JONES. Kubrick's translation of the Thackeray novel downplays its frivolity and foregrounds its acerbic social critique. With an actor only slightly more
expressive than Ryan O'Neal in the lead, this sombre costume epic might have reached the level of tragedy; as it is, the film is langorous to a fault, but so visually delightful and keenly observed that its excesses demand forgiveness.
The title character (Ryan O'Neal) is a rustic Irish boy who falls in love with a local lass (Gay Hamilton). When he threatens to disrupt her financially desirable match with an English officer (Leonard Rossiter), her family tricks him into leaving town. Barry's subsequent adventures encompass
triumph and disaster: among other things, he is impressed into (and deserts from) two warring armies, becomes assistant to an itinerant society card sharp, and woos a widowed aristocrat (Marisa Berenson). His decision to marry her--dictated solely by his desire to acquire social standing--is a
tragic misstep; thenceforward, Barry's life describes an inexorable downward trajectory.
BARRY LYNDON received mixed notices, but even its detractors had to concede that it was one of the most visually beautiful movies ever shot: Kubrick lavished on his film a kind of attention to period detail that remained unmatched until the release of Scorsese's THE AGE OF INNOCENCE nearly 20
years later. In an effort to recreate the look of 18th-century canvasses, the director resolved to shoot the film wholly without artificial lighting; with cinematographer John Alcott, he pioneered the indoor use of ultra-high-speed color film--some scenes are lit only by candles! Music, as always
with Kubrick, is integral to the project; Irish folk tunes by The Chieftains and Schubert's E-minor Trio (which has since become something of a movie cliche) are particularly well used. leave a comment
