Marisa Berenson had a sister Berry, who in real life, suffered a worse fate than the character that Marisa played in Barry Lyndon.

Berry Berenson was a photographer and would-be actress who married her girlhood idol, Tony Perkins, who died of AIDS in 1992.

Berry was aboard American Airlines flight 11 and died during the terrorist attack on September 11.

It is certainly worth noting and it is worth saying a prayer.

By the way, I agree with Moirafinnie about Barry Lyndon. I prefer another Kubrick film, The Killing. I watched the video several years ago; I might feel differently if I again saw it on the big screen.

Suzidoll, I, too, hope you keep writing for a long, long time.

One small correction to your essay: it is the “Zeiss” company that produced the lenses necessary to capture the images by candlelight. Zeiss is a legendary developer of lenses for all types of use, including microscopes, eyewear, and photography.

The former art history student in me loved your detailed comparisons of the paintings and the film’s set pieces and your appreciation for this film’s remarkable period beauty. I was also touched by your sympathy for Ryan O’Neal‘s worthy effort to create a character of some interest, despite the intentions of the screenplay and the director. I can also recall, unfortunately, going to this movie when it was first released and hoping for something transcendent, yet I can recall feeling sorry for the miserable, increasingly dessicated-looking actors (especially Marisa Berenson encased in 18th century fashions), who were fixed in Kubrick‘s carefully rendered shots like butterflies who had been pinned by a collector.

While the cinematography and the music (especially the glorious music of The Chieftains, the Handel, Vivaldiand Schubert portions of the soundtrack) were outstanding, (and I wore out a record of the soundtrack long ago), it still lies in my memory as a leaden, airless film of glacial proportions. My affection for the film’s real beauty can’t entirely make up for the director’s decision to distance us from all the characters, none of whom seemed truly alive or sympathetic to me. Having had to read Thackery’s “The Luck of Barry Lyndon” for a course on the novel since seeing this movie, I really think that in a sense, Kubrick succeeded in replicating the author’s attempt to create a complete anti-hero while documenting the various ways that human beings can delude themselves. Unfortunately, as Stanley Kubrick became more technically sophisticated with each film, his movies, at least for me, became more drained of the humanity that he was making sport of on film.

Since then it’s been a relief to go back and see something like The Killing (1956), a movie of a mere 83 minutes, teeming with messy human characters littering the distinctly un-bucolic urban landscape and demonstrating that much of our time our existence is futile–and all without making me feel sorry for the poor actors, (who actually look as though they are having a good time). At three luxurious hours, perhaps Barry Lyndon might be enjoyable for many, especially if you are interested in the period as a student of design or photography. Your fine piece was obviously thought-provoking for me despite the fact that I didn’t like the movie, and made me re-examine my memories of the film once again.

Maybe I’ll have to track down the soundtrack album again, though, as you wisely point out, if anyone is going to see this movie, for heaven’s sake, see it in a real theater if you can–though in answer to Frances’ above inquiry, Barry Lyndon (1975) is readily available on a digitally remastered dvd for under $15.

Suzi, I love the care and passion with which you write so well and hope that you will continue to make me think here for a long time.

Yes – poor Ken Adam! but really, there’s not a false note in this film, and its much the best production design job Adam EVER did, and he had so many good designs.

Thanks, Suzidoll.