I can't believe this guy thinks this is a great movie and has the gall to criticize Kill Bill 2 for it's editing. This shouldn't be called a movie but more appropriately a "move less". It's more of a painting than a moving picture. Frankly, I think this guy Hughes has a hidden longing for Ryan Oneal.

The lavishly wide shots, deeply setting backgrounds and foregrounds, the stillness and quiet serenity in the candlelight settings, it all combines to bring cinema as it hardly is presented: As a beautiful medium to share an idea. Filmed with the largest aperture in cinema history (f 0,7) Giving new, creatively breathtaking scenes as the candle lit; Giving new expression with the intamacy of the soft, flickering light.
This film is a passion, of a great director, one of the finest, and in no better way, do we see a delicate movie handled with such patience, and enriched care as we do with Barry Lyndon. Owning this movie, is such, with anamorphic technology, the same as a masterpeice artwork, to delight in and find your own peace and enjoyment out of. For the sensitive, for the emotion, for the ones who see cinema, and see a medium, unmatched in its possibilities: This is the movie that you need to take another step with. Progress, and perhaps, take in a new breath of pleasurable, fresh air in love of cinema all over again. A first love of mine.

As has been previously pointed out, the music, costumes, and in general, the art direction of this film are impeccable. The film is a joy to behold--and to be hypnotized by. Yet it is still lacking. I can understand when others say that Kubrick cared more about bringing 18th century life to screen even at the expense of developing character. Many interactions in the film are very subtle--for example, when the Countess Lyndon is at the card table, seeing Barry for the first time, her response to his interest is expressed through her eyes, through the light movement of her mouth. It is barely visible, but it is there. Or we can consider the character of Reverend Runt, who is played wonderfully--his character is expressed through his every movement, through the way he turns the pages of the prayer-book during the wedding scene, through the way he looks at people, through the way he holds his hands. The result is that most of the movie advances slowly, meanderingly, via minute detail and creates an overall mood for the entire picture. Consequently where the film really falls short is where Kubrick brings in more traditional action in order to advance the plot. These scenes break the rhythm of the movie. A few examples: first the battle scene near the beginning of the film. It felt entirely unnatural, especially considering that the English regiment was getting shot at, but kept advancing without firing. Barry's loss of his friend in the skirmish seemed too melodramatic; the event also is one of the few times when the actor O'Neal, expresses any emotion. In fact, O'Neal is in two states for most of the movie--expressionless, or crying. His lack of expression is usually not a detriment, but he just does not have the range that the rest of the actors have, he does not seem to pay as much attention to detail of subtle body movement as the rest of the cast. Also, the scenes when Barry is beating his step-son, or the scenes of Brian's death seem very overdone. I suppose where many people complain that this movie is too slow, I wish it were slower yet.

Simply put, don't watch this movie if you want to see action, because most of it consists of slow scenes intermittently broken up with a little bit of "fast action". If you do watch it, you'll have to watch it closely because the spoken dialogue is usually subordinated to subtle expression. This is a film more for hard-core Kubrick fans, than for general audiences.

I am another who considers this film to be perhaps the finest cinematic feature ever produced. I have a few other contenders in my mind, but "Barry Lyndon" continues to grow more and more in my affection and incredulity. I have watched it, I don't know how many times. The DVD brings out it's sharpness, and I love going straight to my favorite scenes when I need an aesthetic pick-me-up. This is Kubrick at his prime, filmed after the scorching he received from the controversy over "Clockwork," and after the disappointment he suffered from realizing that his dream of "Napoleon" would not come to fruition [and oh, what a great loss to all of us it was that he never had the chance to make that movie! One can only imagine how Kubrick would have filled out the character of the Great Provocateur and how that movie would have informed history!]. In "Barry Lyndon," the chastened Kubrick comes roaring back from those two disappointments in all his strength and artistic genius--Kubrick the perfectionist doing the butterfly and backstroke in luscious irony. Yes it's long, yes it's slow--of course it is, it's as slow as the universe, and equally amazing. Every moment is fraught with the crispness of life moving forward and the irony of human ambition. I admit, when I first saw it in 1976 in 70mm at the theater, I was dismayed with it's seeming tediousness, but I was 18 then and I am nearing 50 now, and I think I've learned that the eye and the senses have to look and look and look again--and that's what the eye does with this movie, it looks with Kubrick, and listens with Kubrick, and delights with the master in the presence of his masterpiece. You stare at this movie, and you wait, and in that time spent waiting you find such incredible pleasure in every detail, watching every stroke of genius, every arranged perfection. This movie is simply abundant deliciousness with the accompaniment of Handel and Schubert and Bach and Irish traditional. O'Neil is as banal and absurd as his character and his adventures are exquisitely outrageous on the most sublime level. The cinematography and period reconstruction is pure eye candy. And the musical score is pure eloquence, enrapturing as it is instructive. Buy the soundtrack, press the headphones against your ear, and relive over and over again that eternity in a moment when Redmond first walks out, oh so slowly and deliberately with the languorous texture of violin and piano and cello, to come close to, and then to accost, and to kiss Lady Lyndon. The whole movie is the finest minuet moving forward and you only need grasp it's hand and pull it to you and move with it in it's rythm. It is some of the most richly rewarding cinema you will ever experience if you allow it to be what it is--Kubrick the master, at the pinnacle of his craft.

Slow as molasses in January, and as sweet, while the camera lingers, soulfully kissing and savoring each moment. With immaculate precision of detail, Kubrick constructs his story of the hapless rogue Lyndon, portrayed by that expert at haplessness, Ryan O'Neal. Being no heavyweight in the acting department (but being cute enough to not have to be), the lengthy script about the rogue's success has been tailored in such a way that it flatters O'Neal's meager abilities. By method of Michael Hordem's sonorous narration, much of what O'Neal has to do is look handsome in his 18th century wardrobe. And that he does. The same is virtually true of co-star Marisa Berenson, who also co-starred in *Cabaret*. She is not an incredibly gifted actress, but she is indeed, an incredibly gifted beauty. So, she, too, must rely on her attractiveness. This is a time-honored Hollywood tradition that still lives and breathes today. If they gave Oscars for being attractive (and they do, don't they, Gwyneth?), this movie would have raked in the awards. It won four, anyway - Best Cinematography, Best Art Direction/Set Decoration, Best Costume Design and Best Musical Adaptation. Clocking in at 3 hours and 3 minutes, Kubrick fans are deeply conflicted over whether or not this is a masterpiece.