Barry Lyndon (1975)
8/10
Stanley Kubrick is my favourite director, which can be both a blessing and a curse in that his movies come with high expectations. Barry Lyndon more or less matched my expectations, which means it is a very good film but never quite felt transcendent in the way Kubrick’s best work does. This is one of the most beautiful-looking films I’ve ever seen, thanks in large part to John Alcott’s Oscar-winning cinematography, which conjures painterly images often using only natural light. Ryan O’Neal is fine as the title character, who is broadly unlikable but not without his positive sides. Technically well-made as it is, Barry Lyndon might strike some viewers as too cold and slow.
Based on William Makepeace Thackeray’s satirical 1844 novel The Luck of Barry Lyndon, the film follows the journey of young Redmond Barry, born to a respectable but impoverished 18th-century Irish family, as he seeks higher social status and marries a rich widow to assume the aristocratic status of late husband, “acquiring the style and title of Barry Lyndon.” Dialectically, however, everything turns into its opposite, and the same traits that allowed Barry to gain access to enormous wealth come to lead to his misfortune.
Barry has an interesting character arc. He starts the film as a mere “boy” who fancies himself a gentleman, yet his family is of little means after the death of his father in a duel. Barry displays a youthful naivety and wears his heart on his sleeve, to the point where he challenges British Army captain John Quin (Leonard Rossiter) to a duel over the hand of his first love, cousin Nora Brady (Gay Hamilton). Fleeing and enlisting in the British Army during the Seven Years’ War, over the course of the film Barry becomes cynical, deceitful and Machiavellian, using any means necessary to advance his own social position.
The turning point comes when Barry weds Lady Lyndon (Marisa Berenson), seducing her and enraging her elderly, ailing husband Sir Charles Reginald Lyndon (Frank Middlemass) to a degree that literally kills him. Lady Lyndon quickly falls in love with Barry, which we can only assume is based on his good looks. They kiss after the end of a wordless first encounter consisting mainly of long stares across the gambling table. The film’s narrator (Michael Hordern) sums up Barry’s true feelings for his new wife: “Lady Lyndon was soon destined to occupy a place in Barry's life, not very much more important than the elegant carpets and pictures which would form the pleasant background of his existence.”
Now married into wealth, Barry treats Lady Lyndon and her son, young Lord Bullingdon (Dominic Savage), poorly. He squanders her wealth and openly philanders with other women, leaving her in seclusion to raise their own child together, Bryan (David Morley). When Bullingdon correctly calls Barry a gold digger who does not love his mother, Barry whips him. It’s no surprise that as Bullingdon grows into a young man (now played by Leon Vitali), he develops an intense hatred for his stepfather, who by comparison spoils Bryan and displays genuine love for him.
The viewer’s sympathies in the second half of the film tend to lie as a result more with Bullingdon—but not entirely. Despite his poor behaviour, Barry still provides some glimpse of a buried moral compass. When he apologizes to Lady Lyndon after she sees him kissing one of their maids, it feels genuine and he ceases his adultery thereafter. Barry is also a genuinely good and affectionate father towards Bryan. Meanwhile, Bullingdon can come off as incompetent, immature, and less forgiving than Barry, particularly during a climactic duel. When Bryan irritates him at one point he spanks the boy, causing Barry to whip Bullingdon again. At least in terms of resorting to corporal punishment, Barry and Bullingdon are no different.
Despite receiving second billing, former model Berenson leaves less of an impression in a largely silent performance. Lady Lyndon is described as prone to melancholy, i.e. depression. Her general response to Barry’s slights against her is to passively accept them, leaving Bullingdon to stand up for his mother when she will not stand up for herself and indeed continues to defend Barry. To be fair, Lady Lyndon’s actions reflect the passivity women have historically been socialized into. Still, there are supporting characters that are more memorable, from Prussian captain Potzdorf (Hardy Krüger) who quickly sees through Barry’s lies, to Irish highwayman Capt. Feeney (Arthur O’Sullivan), who robs Barry early on.
On that note, the scene in which Feeney and his son Seamus (Billy Boyle) rob Barry of the 20 guineas his mother gave him is one of the best and most amusing in the film. While holding Barry at gunpoint they exchange polite introductions, and even the actual act of banditry—what Feeney calls “the more regrettable stage of our brief acquaintance”—is conducted with impeccable manners and formality. O’Sullivan is one of many illustrious character actors who populate Barry Lyndon.
A key aspect of the film’s appeal is how good it looks. That might sounds superficial, but film is a visual medium and no less a visionary director than Denis Villeneuve is on record as saying he cares little for dialogue. “I remember movies because of a strong image,” Villeneuve says. Like all Kubrick’s films, Barry Lyndon is packed with strong images, but in a way different and in some cases superior to his other work. Kubrick and Alcott used special ultra-fast lenses in order to capture scenes lit only by candlelight, which helps immerse us in the film’s time period and captures the vibe of contemporary William Hogarth paintings that inspired Kubrick. Furthering that visual splendour are beautiful Irish locations and Oscar-winning costume design.
Despite these strengths, Barry Lyndon feels like it packs less of a wallop than it should, perhaps because Kubrick has set the bar so high with game-changing works like Paths of Glory, Dr. Strangelove, 2001: A Space Odyssey, A Clockwork Orange, and The Shining—the latter three of which rank among my all-time favourite movies. The length of the film, at a little over three hours, is also a bit of a challenge. I wouldn’t say I was necessarily bored at any point, because with Kubrick there’s always something to appreciate in any given moment, from the visuals to the music to the dialogue. Nevertheless, at times it did feel like the film dragged a bit. The narration also literally spoils some later events in the film, which some will defend as a commentary on fate and destiny, but can’t help but deflate some of the drama.
Barry Lyndon lacks a powerful closing image, other than another beautiful interior shot. But it makes up for that with an “epilogue” consisting of one the best title cards I’ve ever seen: “It was in the reign of George III that the aforesaid personages lived and quarreled; good or bad, handsome or ugly, rich or poor they are all equal now.” It’s a darkly amusing riposte to three hours of watching a man devote his life to climbing the social ladder. Death, as they say, is the great equalizer.