Historical and period piece films are sometimes regarded as bland or monotonous. They feature upper class people from centuries ago spouting "thither"s and making much ado about nothing. A big name like Jane Austen might induce cringing solely based on bad memories from high school analyses. An opening title of "England, 1871" could be enough to make the most tolerant of viewers a little apprehensive at the get-go.
Allow me to introduce Barry Lyndon, an arresting, riotous, and riveting drama from Stanley Kubrick. Filmed in 1975, it's a gorgeously filmed adaptation of William Thackeray's pedantic novel (I use the word pedantic because I own a copy of Vanity Fair -- the book, not the magazine). This conceptualization, however, is anything but pedantic.
Starring Ryan O'Neal as the temperamental Irishman Redmond Barry, it begins with a bang as the young man is robbed, involved in a 19th century pistol showdown, and joins no less than two armies in the first 45 minutes alone. We follow Barry's life from step to step but can never quite step into his skin. This is Kubrick's genius. Using constant zoom-outs and a relentlessly childlike narrator (Michael Hordorn), we see how Barry's fate is in his own hands, but we don't really know why he acts the way he does. Certainly, he is an intelligent and fit man who learns his share of lessons along the way, but why does he continuously bite the hands that feed him?
As with Kubrick's best works, the answer is never clearly spelled out. The outdoor settings, however, may be of help. Exquisitely filmed via John Alcott's rich cinematography, this is one of the more beautifully scenic films of the last thirty years. As the film progresses, we see less and less natural beauty and more and more interior footage, perhaps representing Barry's increasing self-absorption. In one key scene, pigeons coo about relentlessly in an abandoned barn -- this is one of Barry's lowest times, where he doesn't even have a leg to stand on. Musically, Leonard Rosenman's score is worth mentioning too, as are the Irish melodies contributed by the Chieftains. The actors are perfectly restrained except at specific key moments. They are for the most part quite good, although I must confess I haven't heard of most of them before.
The narrator refers several times to Barry's attempts to finally become a gentleman, and in doing so we are reminded of the ebb and flow of our own lives; turning points can sometimes only be seen as low points that need to be turned upwards again. Barry Lyndon is also very telling in its views of social class systems, particularly in its deliciously biting Epilogue.
Kubrick is my favourite director. I maintain my theory that he has mastered each of the genres he has attempted: Dr. Strangelove is widely considered the best satire of all time, 2001 as the best sci-fi, The Shining as the best horror, Full Metal Jacket as the best war... well, you get the idea. I would submit the category has expanded once again, because even though it's not his best film, the best period drama definitely goes to Barry Lyndon.
