Counting all the movies I've seen during the winter vacation, Barry Lyndon is indeed the best. I actually like Kubrick's a lot. What I hate is the indiscriminate praise of him by those ignorant movie fans in China. Barry Lyndon's gut-wrenching loneliness and sadness are so captivating. Our life, in that 180 minutes, is over with the protagonist. At first, we were young and ignorant, and we swore that I was willing to die and fight for the woman I love. Later, later, after the conspiracy and the wandering, we are tired and tired, choose the person we love, or choose the love that loves us, compromise and accommodate this residual life. In fact, this is the reality. There is no choice. No matter how unwilling we are, no matter how unwilling we are, we still have to choose. Love is hard to leave, love is hard to break, even if it is survival and dignity, but in the end Barry Lyndon backed down from the provocation of his stepson. Finally, he left England with a crippled body. All that remains is deep regret and melancholy.
Kubrick has always been a man of extreme demands on form, sometimes at the expense of the authenticity and realism of the scene in pursuit of monotonous perfection. The same is true for this movie, in many places. The guards of honor follow the etiquette, and the two sides of the army fight each other. The emotions are simple, just to pursue a uniform and monotonous picture and form.
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Barry Lyndon reviews
