Barry Lyndon (1975) (Theatrical Re-Release)

(23/8/16)

“By What Means Redmond Barry Acquired the Style and Title of Barry Lyndon”

Detracting from conventional standards, Barry Lyndon may possibly be Kubrick’s greatest film. Scorsese concurs. It’s certainly one of my all-time favourites from the moment I saw it on home-video, and the eventual theatrical re-release reaffirmed that opinion. There’s rarely other films which are induced with such artistic flare, calibre and character. Other ‘perfect historical movies’ that correlate in such a way are Schindler’s List (1993), Once Upon a Time in America (1984), Mr. Turner (2014), Andersonville (1996) and Lincoln (2012); all collectively culminate themselves in a pool of attire and authenticity, encompassing many different elements from sharp dialogue to opulent costume design. Barry Lyndon is certainly amongst that crowd. Its eloquence and articulate narrative spirals itself to be one of the most underrated yet finest movies ever brought to the silver screen in film history, and if you’re not exactly big or well-informed on period dramas, there’s still vast room for it be appreciated for its cinematic and vibrant achievements.

Barry Lyndon is adapted from the 1844 novel “The Luck of Barry Lyndon”, which is a fictionalised tale loosely derived from the real life self-made aristocrat Andrew Robinson Stoney and his gradual demise during the mid-to-latter part of the 18th century. Kubrick had a knack for adapting novels and implanting his own unique twist with his glorified film-making credentials. What truly exposes the Kubrick flavour is the dehumanisation of our protagonist, which ripples throughout the three-hour epic. Kubrick was never bereft of the ideas of non-redemption and the metaphorical thought of the fall of man, as seen in his other cult movies such as Paths of Glory (1957) and Full Metal Jacket (1987). A man who had the might and endeavour to exploit controversial, unconventional and artsy methods to mainstream audiences and bring it to full fruition was certainly a feat of achievement. He had total artistic control with his work, something rare in 21st century Hollywood, with minimal to no oversight from the monopolised studios. Films today lack that Kubrick touch, but that is inevitably what his style entailed, films that are untouchable.

From the get-go, we are suckered into Barry Lyndon with the immensity of the opening titles; it sounds casual and cliché, but alongside the grandiose music of Handel’s ‘Sarabande’, it welcomes you to something spectacular. The very first shot introduces you to the sheer brilliance of the movie’s aesthetic, with two men preparing to duel after a squabble over horses – an unreliable narrator states that one of these gentlemen is the then Redmond Barry’s father. Barry Lyndon has been humbled as a movie in which every frame ‘looks like a painting’, influenced from the beautiful artwork that was created during the Enlightenment and Romantic eras. You genuinely feel like you are in an 18th century Europe. John Alcott, the cinematographer for Barry Lyndon, aswell as most of Kubrick’s other classics, won an Oscar for his cinematic achievement. Zeiss lenses were used for the shoot, which produces lenses for NASA, and most of the film was undertaken in natural lighting because the f-stop was at a whopping low of 0.7 – this was used to its fullest extent; it could essentially film in very dim environments. For example, there’s a scene where Lady Lyndon is playing cards among others, and the only source of light is from the candles on the table. On conventional shoots, this is too impractical to do as it is too dark and not enough light is fed into the camera. The lower the f-stop, the more shallow the depth of field is, so along with the card scene came the actors who had to stay immensely still to avoid the camera being out of focus. And with Kubrick known for his perfectionist traits, 100’s of takes of the same thing would be enacted regardless of if the ‘perfect’ take had already been done. Alongside this would be the use of zooms. Barry Lyndon has 36 zooms which are projected perfectly. The shots which zoom out show the immensity and scale of the landscape, the shots which zoom in present isolationism. The cinematography compliments both the visuals and the narrative.

“Containing an Account of the Misfortunes and Disasters Which Befell Barry Lyndon”

Barry Lyndon succumbs to an intermission at around the 100-minute mark. The movie is split into two very distinct halves. The first tells the tale of a vulnerable yet frustrated Irish man of gentry and his adventures through his squabbles with a high-ranking officer, stumbling across highwaymen, fighting for the British during the Seven Years’ War, and working as a double-agent for the Prussian army. The second is one of a different tale which examines a more boastful and egotistical man who exploits his wife’s aristocratic wealth, has a broken relationship with his step-son and follows his eventual demise. This is the element of dehumanisation we discussed earlier. The screenplay is compared to the likes of an old, dramatic Spielberg film, and I wrote in my review of Bridge of Spies (2015) that the dialogue in his movies are so full of “texture, colour and coherence”. The lines in Barry Lyndon replicate this statement, and are presented with such a rich and old-fashioned manner, especially the narrator, in which the sentences are written with such exuberance. This can be exemplified with our protagonist, played by Ryan O’Neal, and Leon Vitali, who plays Lord Bullingdon. It’s a breath of fresh air to hear such exquisite language when enacted formally (Barry Lyndon could easily be adapted into theatre).

It’s clear to think many casual movie-goers will find Barry Lyndon to be a dry test of patience, others will relish the complexities of the loose biopic, both on a microscopic and macroscopic sense. There’s so much depth to this movie that the unbeknownst watcher will have to view it on several occasions to fish out the details you will miss the first time. There was never a time when I felt bored – I was totally immersed. Barry Lyndon is like a stream entering into a river, going down a waterfall, then stopping at the dam. It flows, but three hours isn’t enough for me.

Matthew Alfrey

The Hateful Eight (2015)

(29/2/16)

“It’s intricacies form the whole Tarantino package, from a welling lore to the innovation of using a 70mm format”

From the rather inconspicuous and chilling opening, aided with Ennio Morricone’s haunting soundtrack, seeing “THE EIGHTH FILM BY QUENTIN TARANTINO” be projected onto my vulnerable eyes for the first time was certainly a shivering moment. There has been so much anticipation surrounding this movie as I have always been leached in by Tarantino’s works, a director who, admittedly, thrives off polarizing controversy, homages to older works (particularly the 70s era), grandiose soundtracks, spaghetti westerns, slapstick dialogue, and exploitation (in some cases, blaxploitation). I knew The Hateful Eight wouldn’t detract from that list, but like Tarantino’s style, he would also explore some new techniques and delve into different subject matters. The Hateful Eight is certainly his most eerie and intimidating work yet, surpassing Death Proof (2007), which follows the tale of eight mysterious people who are caught up in Minnie’s Haberdashery during a blizzard in Wyoming – all for it to be sucked into a frenzy of lies and deception. “One of them fellas is not who he says he is” exclaims John Ruth, played brilliantly by Kurt Russell.

Tarantino has managed to pull off a horror flick without the element of horror. It subversives itself more on mystery of our seemingly hateful characters, aided with the claustrophobic environment of the locked-in haberdashery, the inescapable blizzard, and the original score as touched on previously. Furthermore, our entourage of hateful’s provide themselves with backgrounds that are destined for trouble when mixed with the others. To exemplify, we have an ex-Confederate general, a black ex-Union Major, a bounty hunter and hangman, his bounty, and a sheriff to point out a few. A very interesting narrative is pulled out by Tarantino here as he has essentially amalgamated elements from his debut movie Reservoir Dogs (1992) and The Thing (1982). What is also intriguing is how Morricone has captured similar vibes from The Thing into The Hateful Eight, even using 34-year-old scores from John Carpenter’s movie in this one (a technique that Tarantino often uses). The real horror element in The Hateful Eight is, of course, the disastrous blizzard that has essentially imprisoned the characters. Bereft of it, and suffice to say, The Hateful Eight would have a more feeble yet still entertaining story.

I had the very privilege of watching the film in theatres twice, the latter being projected in Ultra-Panavision 70mm in Leicester Square which, to the best of my knowledge, was the only 70mm projection of it in the UK, certainly in England to say the least. Gazing upon such wide fixtures assuredly propped up multitudes of reverence and admiration, exemplifying the beauty of cinema and what it’s really about. This very rare and exceptional format hadn’t been done since 1966 with Khartoum (1966), with only an assortment of other films which were able to do it such as Ben-Hur (1959) and Battle of the Bulge (1965). It without a doubt created the immersion of going to a special event, such as that of a premiere. Upon arriving, a “Special Roadshow” programme handout was given out, which fulfilled an array of glorious photographs from the production to the technical aspects of how it was filmed, such as the incredible aspect ratio of the motion picture (that being 2.76:1, whereas most films use either 1.85:1 or 2.39:1). Succeeding this was the overture, which presented itself with an impeccable arty screenshot and Ennio Morricone’s spine-bending score, setting up the chaos of what was to ensue. This ultimately got me going for what was to follow; when the lush veils of snowy mountains and howling forests blissfully revealed themselves I was astonished at how wide something could be shot and then subsequently projected. A four horse stagecoach sets off from the right, only for it to take a handful of minutes to reach the other side. There was so much periphery and something I had never seen nor envisioned in cinema in my lifetime. The brilliance of it also is that I could tell it was being projected on celluloid, seeing the occasional blimps of the reel being shone through the projector. This made the experience more warmer and immersive, as I was literally watching film.

Extra scenes were also added in contrast to my first viewing in a standard theatre, which ran at 2 hours 47 minutes compared to the 3 hours 7 minutes you see on 70mm. Though commendable to treat fans with extra footage on 70mm, and granted it sets up some more stable character development and story, my slants about this is idea that the film in itself is too long for the substance of the picture. More fun but frivolous dialogue is thrown about which effectively exhausts the audience, and I was grateful for the 12 minute interval we received to relax from Tarantino’s slapstick writing.

Delving into Tarantino’s frequenters (Samuel L. Jackson, Kurt Russell, Walton Goggins, Tim Roth, Michael Madsen, James Parks and Bruce Dern) was once again appealing to witness as the synergy of the bunch oozes miraculously from the screenplay to screen. Newcomers are also welcomed, such as Jennifer Jason Leigh, who has merited an Oscar nomination for her role as Daisy Domergue, Demian Bichir and Channing Tatum. Goggins’ performance is most definitely overlooked as he is the backbone of why the cast interacts so much. He liaisons with everybody; the good, the bad, and the hateful, as does Jackson and Russell in their respective supporting roles.

To rally this up, you will most definitely see this picture knowing Tarantino was the at the helm of the ship, and if you were expecting a grandiose of foul-mouthing, violence, quirky names and anecdotes, you won’t be of disappoint. It’s intricacies form the whole Tarantino package, from a welling lore to the innovation of using a 70mm format. Disregarding the movie’s overall length, The Hateful Eight is summed up as a merge from other greats, humbling Reservoir Dogs (1992), The Thing (1982) and even to the likes of 12 Angry Men (1957). An ideal recommendation for Western fanatics and mystery goers.

Matthew Alfrey

Black Mass (2015)

(15/12/15)

“Black Mass evidently highlights itself a fitting story that needed to be told, accompanying itself with a warm aesthetic, strong performances and audacious music”

Johnny Depp undertakes the seriously chilling Whitey Bulger in this uneasy Boston-based crime drama. Black Mass unveils the true story of Irish Mob boss “Jimmy” Bulger who reportedly served as an informant for the FBI from 1975 (more directly to John Connolly – an FBI agent played by Joel Edgerton) in a deceptive move to wipe out his criminal enemies and subsequently expand his turf. While the story behind Black Mass was bereft to my knowledge, director Scott Cooper has projected the two-hour piece in such a coherent, linear way, more or less free from convolutions than what you’d usually find in films lingering around this genre (take The Godfather: Part II for example). As with most adapted screenplays, however, appropriate tampering with the true stories usually have to be enacted upon to secure a stronger sense of plot; ones with a firm beginning, middle, and end. Regardless, the premise is brilliant; and it’s beautifully projected onto the big screen.

I recall social media hype sky-rocketing when Johnny Depp unveiled his new, megalomaniac look of the character a few months prior to the release date of Black Mass – the dirty teeth, the aged skin, and of course the balding hair, which without a doubt invokes a sense of foreboding. This is very much same the hype surrounding Matthew McConaughey on the upcoming drama Gold. Depp, however, performed his role successfully, as I actually hated him throughout Black Mass. I seriously hated him (was that the intention?). He’s a severely more dirtier and cheaper version of Jordan Belfort, corrupted with avarice, drugs, and has a feast for womanizing. The whole film turns itself into a warped state of darkness, negativity, and pessimism, so far that there are no protagonists to root for, unlike other crime films (Don Corleone, for example); we are not explicitly supposed to enjoy Bulger’s actions. There’s even one scene where Depp deeply intimidates Connolly’s wife, subsequently leading her to leave him because of his dangerous misdemeanors with blatant criminals despite working for the FBI, an institution which tries to uphold justice at all costs. In spite of this, I personally think more films should use “the main character is evil” technique to add more drive to a movie; it really does lack in today’s cinema.

While the plot is bounded in a coherent manner, it did seem to drag fairly fallibly nearer the end of the film. It’s that whole rinse-and-repeat ex-machina trick that you find in the likes of The Wolf of Wall Street; let’s quickly show some more bad stuff without going into too much context just to let you know that we’re still bad. You kind of wait for the ending to meet its match as there’s no way of escaping what’s going to happen. But it takes far too much time to build up to that climax. I was eagerly anticipating this nearer the end of the second act. Albeit on the other hand, Black Mass introduces solidly to a well-approached beginning and middle which rounds off decent character development and masterful violence. I was actually somewhat surprised that a movie set during the mid-70s and its gradual forthcoming years to have such an awe of decency when it came to set, makeup, and costume design as well as still having a tangible 70s feel when it came to the cinematography. This is something I see lacking into today’s movie’s; I even criticized the aesthetic on my Straight Outta Compton review for looking too modern.

One thing that did stand out was the incredible score which turns out to be from Junkie XL, whose assortment has included the previous Mad Max: Fury Road which was critically acclaimed for it’s soundtrack earlier this year. Despite this, Junkie XL has captured something conceptually magnificent with Black Mass; he understands the narratives and tale of the story, finding dark, often distrusting, trickles of music to build tension and no sense of hope. The outro credits are driven by beautifully crafted pieces of melancholic strings, and I didn’t leave until the first bulk of credits ended because of the fantastic score, as did others also.

Black Mass evidently highlights itself a fitting story that needed to be told, accompanying itself with a warm aesthetic, strong performances and audacious music. But it conclusively staggers on feeble plot occurrences that cannot be justified for user satisfaction. The majority of the movie projects itself solidly, but the somewhat draggy motifs past the halfway mark render it stale and uncomfortable to sit through. While I did enjoy Black Mass come its finale, it’s still a movie I probably won’t watch again.

Matthew Alfrey

Bridge of Spies (2015)

(14/12/15)

“Everything is so patient, gifted with great writing, casting, music, and of course cinematography”

Once again Spielberg’s new epic Bridge of Spies has relished the essence of cinematic brilliance, as did his preceding film Lincoln (2012) – which, gradually, has culminated into being one of my favourite movies from the multi-Oscar winning director. I profoundly had an awe of immeasurable satisfaction when watching Bridge of Spies, as Spielberg’s most critically acclaimed movies have tended to be historical dramas which primarily dominate around mid-20th century wartime. Bridge of Spies depicts the true Cold War story of James Donovan, an insurance-based lawyer, who has been assigned the defense attorney of Rudolf Abel, a potential Soviet spy living within the US. Donovan played an instrumental role during the Nuremberg trials 11 years prior to his commitment to the Abel case, therefore warranting him to delve back into war-based jurisdictions. But unlike the expected trial against Abel seeming partial to the US’ favour, given the strong adversarial politics between the two major world superpowers, Donovan aims to give him a right to fair trial as a result of the Constitution’s Fourth Amendment – this subsequently amounts to deep consequences for Donovan from his own front and family. Meanwhile over in Communist-ruled East Germany and the Soviet Union, two Americans are arrested, which gives Donovan the opportunity for an exchange of Abel for the ‘POWs’. Bridge of Spies, however, is not necessarily a courtroom drama, as this only amounts in the first 1/3rd of the movie or so; the driving factor is primarily the exchange mission between the captors, which climaxes on the infamous Glienicke Bridge.

One thing I can truly express my admiration for is how Spielberg – as well as the Coen brothers and Matt Charman (of which I am proud of declaring the fact that he was born in my hometown) – can conceive dialogue. It is so prudently full of colour, texture and coherence. We also see this again with the likes of Schindler’s List (1993) and Catch Me If You Can (2002). A couple of highlighted moments justify this statement including a scene in which the brilliant Mark Rylance, playing Abel, discusses to Hanks’ character James Donovan as to how he reminds him of a man he knew in his younger days who would keep getting up despite being brutally beaten over and over – a “standing man”. Expanding onto this, another scene expresses CIA agent Hoffman’s reluctance with Hanks to give Abel protection and legal respect. Hanks replies “What makes us both Americans?”. While a very wordy film, the wordiness is worth it for a grand and reassuring payoff.

But without great dialogue would also present feeble acting. This film is far from that. Undoubtedly, the most significant performance derives from the utterly chilling Mark Rylance, whose career I first pondered upon following his performance on Wolf Hall (2015). Regardless of his double Globe nominations, this is his year. Like the very wordless beginning to Bridge of Spies, Rylance’s very broad and eccentric English accent and his lack for words still builds up an scrupulous story about the character he represents. The synergy between his and Hanks’ character soak beautifully throughout the course of the film despite the very bleak and dire circumstances of their situations – very much like the Itzhak Stern and Oskar Schindler relationship. Like most of Spielberg’s epics, it is this sort of trait coupled with the harsh environments he uses which cites very bittersweet themes.

Sadly, however, we are bereft of the Williams-Spielberg partnership due to Williams’ health conditions around the time of post-production; but don’t worry – we will revisit John Williams’ in the upcoming Star Wars: Episode VII – The Force Awakens (2015), and you are also treated to a spectacular score from 12-time Oscar nominated Thomas Newman. The soundtrack most definitely does not disappoint, and while saddened we can’t explicitly hear our famous duo, it’s interesting to witness a different composer working with Spielberg. “Standing Man” and “Homecoming” are graced with tremendous impact.

Alas, it admittedly brings me with firm tenacity to actually find anything seriously negative with Spielberg. Everything is so patient, gifted with great writing, casting, music, and of course cinematography. A wonderful film with a wonderful story.

Matthew Alfrey

Malfrey's Movie Madness

"He killed them with their love. That's how it is every day, all over the world."

Tag: Drama

Barry Lyndon (1975) (Theatrical Re-Release)

The Hateful Eight (2015)

Black Mass (2015)

Bridge of Spies (2015)

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