“THE BEAUTY OF IRONY”

By Raymond Benson

Leave it to The Criterion Collection to present a jaw-dropping, eye-popping Blu-ray release of Stanley Kubrick’s 1975 masterpiece that many critics have called one of the most beautiful films ever made. While the picture received many accolades upon its initial release, including Oscar nominations for Picture, Director, Adapted Screenplay—and wins for Cinematography, Production Design, Costumes, and Adapted Score—it was again one those Kubrick films that was controversial and misunderstood at first. It was not a financial success in the U.S., and yet today it’s considered one of the auteur’s greatest works.

After such titles as Dr. Strangelove, 2001: A Space Odyssey, and A Clockwork Orange, it may have seemed to be an odd choice for Kubrick to make a picture such as Barry Lyndon. One must look back to the period between 2001 and Clockwork to understand it. Kubrick had wanted to make an epic movie about Napoleon and, in fact, spent two years in pre-production on it before MGM got cold feet and pulled the plug. The director changed studios (to Warner Brothers) and shot Clockwork cheaply and quickly to prove that he could make them some money—and he did. So what was he to do with all the previous research materials he had amassed for the Napoleon project? He satisfied his desire to study the past by adapting an 18^th Century novel by William Makepeace Thackeray (The Luck of Barry Lyndon) so that he could tell a tale about class dichotomy, ambition, greed, and hubris.

From the beginning, Kubrick wanted to take an audience back to late 1770s England and Ireland to demonstrate exactly what it was like to live then. The authenticity he strove to achieve consisted of commissioning a NASA lens so fast that it was capable of filming by candlelight (as well as utilizing only natural light throughout the production), employing real clothing from the period, and shooting at real locations where this past still existed. The results are breathtakingly gorgeous renditions of English and Irish countrysides and majestic, elegant manors. All of this surrounds the precise depiction of the manners of an aristocracy that hasn’t been seen on screen before or since.

Ryan O’Neal, who was at the time of production still a box-office star, was cast as Barry, at first a naïve Irish boy who allows heartbreak and jealousy to shape his future endeavors to elevate his social standing. He learns quickly that to get ahead in society he must be a bit of a rogue, a schemer, a liar, and a cad. The first half of the little-over-three-hour picture documents Barry’s rise to prominence. After the intermission, we witness his resounding fall from grace.

The story is told with Kubrick’s keen sense of irony—in fact, no other filmmaker has had such a firm ability to elicit this very difficult blend of satire, causticness, and paradox. You find it in all of his pictures, but Barry Lyndon literally exudes it. This is accomplished in no small part by the detached and slightly amused voice-over narration by Michael Hordern.

Yes, the movie is slowly paced—as it should be. Things moved slower in the 1700s. There is a stateliness and pageantry to the proceedings that is entirely appropriate to the setting, but also to the overall message of the film—that despite the airs one puts on to impress, underneath we’re all still human and pretty much the same.

Every aspect of the production is about as perfect as it can get. John Alcott’s cinematography, Ken Adam’s production design, Milena Canonero and Ulla-Britt Söderlund’s costumes, and the musical score, adapted by Leonard Rosenman and consisting of classical pieces and traditional folk material performed by the Chieftains, all combine to transport the viewer into an age of great beauty and yet cold, near-heartless humanity.

The Criterion Blu-ray is a 4K digital restoration that looks magnificent, and this is accompanied by an uncompressed monaural soundtrack as well as an alternate 5.1 surround soundtrack. The music, as well as every birdsong and musket shot, sounds clean, clear, and vibrant.

An entire second disk contains the plentiful supplements that will take a few hours to get through. The main attraction is “Making Barry Lyndon,” a new documentary that features audio excerpts from a 1976 interview with Kubrick about the movie, appearances by executive producer Jan Harlan, the director’s daughter Katharina Kubrick (who also appears as an extra in the film), and other members from the cast and crew (no Ryan O’Neal, though). There are separate featurettes on each of the technical aspects—cinematography; production design; costumes; editing; music; and the fine art of the period from which Kubrick and the designers drew inspiration. An interview with author/critic Michael Ciment focuses on the themes in the director’s works and how they relate to Lyndon. There are two theatrical trailers. The thick booklet enclosed in the package contains an essay by critic Geoffrey O’Brien and vintage, illustrated pieces from American Cinematographer.

In short, Barry Lyndon is a remarkable piece of cinema that is unfortunately underrated by the general public. It deserves a spot alongside Stanley Kubrick’s other acknowledged “masterpieces.” The new Criterion edition is just the way to see it and perhaps rediscover this brilliant work of art.

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