‘Good or bad, handsome or ugly, rich or poor, they are all equal now…’
Auteur Theory is the idea that a film can be the expression of one person (the director) who has complete creative control, much like a writer does over a novel. Hitchcock, Scorsese, Coppola, Tarantino, Nolan… these are the rare filmmakers that are also household names. Stanley Kubrick is the name that arguably looms largest in the world of cinema, however. His films, often accused of being cold and emotionally detached, are nevertheless an extension of the man himself. Kubrick was and remains an enigma, and his films are puzzle boxes to be solved. Barry Lyndon, originally conceived as a Napoleon biopic before eventually becoming a loose adaptation of William Makepeace Thackeray’s picaresque novel, The Luck of Barry Lyndon, is so aloof and indifferent about the fate and plight of its characters, so dispassionate and reserved, and yet so undeniably Kubrick that it is perhaps the film that sums up the old master better than any other…
Redmond Barry (Ryan O’Neal), an Irish rogue, wins the heart of rich widow Lady Honoria Lyndon (Marisa Berenson) and begins to climb the social ladder. Our hapless protagonist stoically moves through the film almost as a passive observer, occasionally emerging from his befuddlement to engage in a duel or deliver a beating. The supporting cast is vast and packed with talent but there are no star names here. Instead, Kubrick allows the narrative and the cinematography to take centre stage. The latter, overseen by John Alcott, is one of the earliest and still most prominent examples of scenes shot by candlelight, and as a result of that, Barry Lyndon still looks incredible. Kubrick was hugely influenced by the paintings of William Hogarth and subsequently every frame here could pass for a Renaissance painting, something that is enhanced by the astounding costume and set design.
Despite the fact that Barry Lyndon is undoubtedly jaw-dropping on a technical level, I will admit that I struggled with the first half of the film. The glacial pacing combined with Kubrick’s legendary lack of emotion makes for a maddening cinematic experience, but as with Eyes Wide Shut, a film that is often criticised for similar reasons, I suspect that the film’s true value probably only reveals itself through repeated viewings. The second half of the film, however, is Kubrick at his best. It’s bombastic, wildly entertaining, strangely funny… just strange generally, but in a way that is always captivating and compelling, and despite all my previous talk of Kubrick’s detachment, I found the final title card to be intensely moving.
Barry Lyndon, as with 2001: A Space Odyssey and Eyes Wide Shut in particular, is a challenging and unapologetically singular work that sticks around in your head for days after the credits have rolled. As with all of Kubrick’s films, it’s a layered and dense affair that all but demands repeated viewings. I already can’t wait to return to it.
