Barry Lyndon

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A Stanley Kubrick movie treatment of a novel by a novelist I in theory want to know more about (Thackeray).

The lack of urgency may have been the result of a desire on the auteur’s part to say something about anomie. The erotic current in the movie is strong (in a perhaps too-easy way). The visuals are admirable, as always with Kubrick. I stopped watching at the end of part one, already a lot of movie-watching.