巴里

http://www.rogerebert.com/reviews/barry-lyndon-1975

Stanley Kubrick's "Barry Lyndon," received indifferently in 1975, has grown in stature in the years since and is now widely regarded as one of the master's best. It is certainly in every frame a Kubrick film: technically awesome, emotionally distant, remorseless in its doubt of human goodness. Based on a novel published in 1844, it takes a form common in the 19th century novel, following the life of the hero from birth to death. The novel by Thackeray, called the first novel without a hero, observes a man without morals, character or judgment, unrepentant, unredeemed. Born in Ireland in modest circumstances, he rises through two armies and the British aristocracy with cold calculation.

"Barry Lyndon" is aggressive in its cool detachment. It defies us to care, it asks us to remain only observers of its stately elegance. Many of its developments take place off-screen, the narrator informing us what's about to happen, and we learn long before the film ends that its hero is doomed. This news doesn't much depress us, because Kubrick has directed Ryan O'Neal in the title role as if he were a still life. It's difficult to imagine such tumultuous events whirling around such a passive character. He loses a fortune, a wife or a leg with as little emotion as he might in losing a dog. Only the death of his son devastates him and that perhaps because he sees himself in the boy.

The casting choice of O'Neal is bold. Not a particularly charismatic actor, he is ideal for the role. Consider Albert Finney in "Tom Jones," for example, bursting with vitality. Finney could not possibly have played Lyndon. O'Neal easily seems self-pitying, narcissistic, on the verge of tears. As one terrible event after another occurs to him, he projects an eerie calm. Nor do his triumphs -- in gambling, con games, a fortunate marriage and even acquiring a title -- seem to bring him much joy. He is a man to whom things happen.

The other characters seem cast primarily for their faces and their presence, certainly not for their personalities. Look at the curling sneer of the lips of Leonard Rossiter, as Captain Quin, who ends Barry's youthful affair with a cousin by an advantageous offer of marriage. Study the face of Marisa Berenson, as Lady Lyndon. Is there any passion in her marriage? She loves their son as Barry does, but that seems to be their only feeling in common. When the time comes for her to sign an annuity check for the man who nearly destroyed her family, her pen pauses momentarily, then smoothly advances.

The film has the arrogance of genius. Never mind its budget or the perfectionism in its 300-day shooting schedule. How many directors would have had Kubrick's confidence in taking this ultimately inconsequential story of a man's rise and fall, and realizing it in a style that dictates our attitude toward it? We don't simply see Kubrick's movie, we see it in the frame of mind he insists on -- unless we're so closed to the notion of directorial styles that the whole thing just seems like a beautiful extravagance (which it is). There is no other way to see Barry than the way Kubrick sees him.

Kubrick's work has a sense of detachment and bloodlessness. The most "human" character in "2001: A Space Odyssey" (1968) is the computer, and "A Clockwork Orange" (1971) is disturbing specifically in its objectivity about violence. The title of "Clockwork," from Anthony Burgess' novel, illustrates Kubrick's attitude to his material. He likes to take organic subjects and disassemble them as if they were mechanical. It's not just that he wants to know what makes us tick; he wants to demonstrate that we do all tick. After "Spartacus" (1960), he never again created a major character driven by idealism or emotion.

The events in "Barry Lyndon" could furnish a swashbuckling romance. He falls into a foolish adolescent love, has to leave his home suddenly after a duel, enlists almost accidentally in the British army, fights in Europe, deserts from not one but two armies, falls in with unscrupulous companions, marries a woman of wealth and beauty, and then destroys himself because he lacks the character to survive.

But Kubrick examines Barry's life with microscopic clarity. He has the confidence of the great 19th century novelists, authors who stood above their material and accepted without question their right to manipulate and interpret it with omniscience. Kubrick has appropriated Thackeray's attitude -- or Trollope's or George Eliot's. There isn't Dickens' humor or relish of human character. Barry Lyndon, falling in and out of love and success, may see no pattern in his own affairs, but the artist sees one for him, one of consistent selfish opportunism.

Perhaps Kubrick's buried theme in "Barry Lyndon" is even similar to his outlook in "2001: A Space Odyssey." Both films are about organisms striving to endure and prevail -- and never mind the reason. The earlier film was about the human race itself; this one is about a depraved minor example of it. Barry journeys without plan, sees what he desires, tries to acquire it and perhaps succeeds because he plays roles so well without being remotely dedicated to them. He looks the part of a lover, a soldier, a husband. But there is no there there.

There's a sense in both this film and "2001" that a superior force hovers above these struggles and controls them. In "2001," it was a never-clarified form of higher intelligence. In "Barry Lyndon," it's Kubrick himself, standing aloof from the action by two distancing devices: the narrator (Michael Hordern), who deliberately destroys suspense and tension by informing us of all key developments in advance, and the photography, which is a succession of meticulously, almost coldly, composed set images. It's notable that three of the film's four Oscars were awarded for cinematography (John Alcott), art direction (Ken Adam) and costumes (Ulla-Britt Soderlund and Milena Canonero). The many landscapes are often filmed in long shots; the fields, hills and clouds could be from a landscape by Gainsborough. The interior compositions could be by Joshua Reynolds.

This must be one of the most beautiful films ever made, and yet the beauty isn't in the service of emotion. Against magnificent settings, the characters play at intrigues and scandals. They cheat at cards and marriage, they fight ridiculous duels. This is a film with a backdrop of the Seven Years' War that engulfed Europe, and it hardly seems to think the war worth noticing, except as a series of challenges posed for Barry Lyndon. By placing such small characters on such a big stage, by forcing our detachment from them, Kubrick supplies a philosophical position just as clearly as if he'd put speeches in his characters' mouths.

The images proceed in elegant stages through the events, often accompanied by the inexorable funereal progression of Handel's "Sarabande." For such an eventful life, there is no attempt to speed the events along. Kubrick told the critic Michel Ciment he used the narrator because the novel had too much incident even for a three-hour film, but there isn't the slightest sense he's condensing.

Some people find "Barry Lyndon" a fascinating, if cold, exercise in masterful filmmaking; others find it a terrific bore. I have little sympathy for the second opinion; how can anyone be bored by such an audacious film? "Barry Lyndon" isn't a great entertainment in the usual way, but it's a great example of directorial vision: Kubrick saying he's going to make this material function as an illustration of the way he sees the world.

很多人一说起大师，都会往深奥玄妙上走。其实真正的大师一点也不会故弄玄虚。他们的美妙是你完全能够感受和理解的。


对这部只用自然光和烛光拍出油画感觉的片子，视觉上当然是无可挑剔的，每一个镜头的起始和终止，机位都在它最应该在的地方，平静的视角，让你脱离了那些人物的悲伤、欢乐、荣耀、凄凉，站在一旁，去欣赏大命运的美。

不过如果只谈画面而不谈音乐，这部片就失掉了一半灵魂。

我很惊讶音乐和镜头、节奏以及人物内心世界的默契。碟里带了原声，可惜弄不下来，于是上网疯狂寻了一整天，却无意发现这样一段记录，库布里克看过《西部往事》，对里面先写好音乐再拍电影的方法很欣赏，于是立刻实践到自己的片里，拍摄现场都是一边放着音乐一边表演，听着音乐来找机位，找演员的站位，找移动的节奏。。。


电影何以能被视为一门融合各种艺术形式的而体现价值的艺术，Barry Lyndon是很有力的例证之一。


已经将原声上传到这里，有兴趣的朋友可以自取　http://pickup.mofile.com/5673772425358464

       整整一周，我把自己封闭在巴黎电影资料馆的小隔间里，几乎看了库布里克所有的电影，也看了几部jean cocteau和帕索里尼的。在看完《巴里 林登》之后，我决定写点什么。
       最初选择看库布里克的电影，是为了逃离古典主义。我从中学时代起就无比迷恋的古典主义(其中当然也包括中国的古典文化)，在我来到欧洲一年之后，渐渐让我感到疲倦。也许是更多的接触和了解，让我看到古典主义并不比现代主义更加的人性化。
       再回到这部电影，它想告诉我们什么呢？
       许多人就库布里克在场景，服饰上的追求极致大加赞扬，也有说这是疯子的做法。电影中油画一般华美典雅的画面，确实是电影的一大亮点。我想说的是，在欧洲用18世纪的城堡和服饰来还原历史场景到电影中，是值得称赞的认真态度，但并不是像大多数人想象的那么困难。欧洲人把这些珍贵文化保护的很好，在这里可以经常听到有人说“这座建筑不是很古老，也就19世纪的”。在我看来导演这样做并不仅仅是还原真实，而是用另一种方式再现那些博物馆里陈列着的精美油画，他想告诉我们，那些精美华丽背后真实的人生与命运。
       电影最想告诉我们的当然还是人性，让人唏嘘感叹又无奈的人性。电影里让我印象很深的一个场景是巴里顺利地利用妻子的贵族身份获得显赫地位之后，坐在一辆马车里，在她旁边肆意地抽着烟，听到她的制止，他不屑地看了她一眼，把嘴里的烟吹在她脸上。另一个是和继子伯灵顿决斗的时候，巴里心生善念，一枪打在了地上，后来镜头转向伯灵顿的脸，他先是发现自己没有死之后松了一口气，接着他意识到他有了开枪的机会，有了结束自己从童年就开始的噩梦般的人生的机会，也有了把这个出身低下，不择手段跻身上流社会的爱尔兰人踢出局的机会，于是他做出了决定，这个决定很坚决，但是并不十分容易，因为他知道自己很不光彩。这里让人感慨的除了伯灵顿对巴里深深的仇恨，还有他的蔑视，那也是整个阶层整个时代对出身卑微者的蔑视，正是这种蔑视决定了巴里凄凉的晚年，也正是这种蔑视决定了《红与黑》里面于连的死。巴里婚后的为所欲为和他母亲的飞扬跋扈，也和自身被人看不起有关系。伯灵顿这个人物就像是阶级观念的化身，在那个时代，他是比巴里更为强大的。
       我记得有一句话说“李白难为杜甫之沉郁，杜甫难为李白之飘逸”，曾经觉得很有道理。但当我们看到库布里克这个绝顶天才可以把科幻片，剧情片，恐怖片，战争片，悬念片，甚至古装片都能拍到极致，不能不感概，一切条条框框，不过是人为设定的。这也是这部电影想要告诉我们的吧？
       库布里克的电影最让我惊为天人的地方还不是这些。十八岁第一次知道这个导演的时候，并不敢看他的电影，因为那些直击灵魂深处的深刻让我生理到心理都非常不适。如果你很认真地看了库布里克的电影，你应该知道我说的是什么。我甚至想不到太合适的语言来形容存在于他电影里的让人极度震惊不安的东西。我可以举个例子：比如《发条橙》里面开头牛奶吧镜头的拉伸和重音鼓，比如《紧闭双眼》里神秘派对上宗教祭祀般的仪式和钢琴最边缘音部的配乐，还有《洛丽塔》里面一开头就被杀死的剧作家这个角色的存在，还有《2001太空漫游》里的黑色石板。我觉得这些东西才是库布里克真正区别于其他大师级导演的地方。
       时隔八年，终于可以以成熟的心智看他的电影，而不至于变成精神分裂。这跟个人成长和环境都有或多或少的关系吧。虽然法国人有很多地方让我非常厌烦，但是对于艺术格外尊重的态度，在任何其他国家都是少见的。
       电影资料馆的学习还在继续，库布里克的电影也没有全部看完。这是第一次写出对库布里克电影的理解，期待自己很快能有新的还者更深的理解。豆瓣让我学到很多东西，在这里写出此文，期待比我更懂电影的人能多多指点。

我们习惯于称呼电影画面为镜头语言，语言者，可感可叹可哭可喊，如果是特别优美的画面，我们一般认为这是导演的抒情语言，相当于我们朗诵诗歌时发出的“啊～”，啊，长江，啊，黄河，等等，不一而足，张公艺谋的刺客电影被人垢病，就是这种语言太多了，从而显得内容苍白，记得儿时的一次赛诗会，同学的“啊”字后面的省略号太长了，让朗诵者差点背过气去，一时传为笑谈，说明再抒情的声音，也不宜多用，一口气有多长，后面应该是个休止符。

        库布里克的镜头语言是与众不同的，如果张艺谋的《英雄》是“啊”的话，那么库布里克的《发条橙》就是“操！”，装置对比强烈的场景，夸张的人物表演，等等，也是不一而足，不过他的另一部电影《贝利•林登》，却不容易拿一个字来形容，《贝利•林登》的画面是唯美的，像油画一样，在整部电影中，库布里克没用一点辅助光，除了日光，就是烛光，镜头的移动和远近，也是缓慢的，有节制的，构图匀称，把中间的每一幅画面定格，拿出来挂在墙上，都可以算作一幅不错的，十八世纪的庸俗油画，我的感觉就是这样。

        一部电影太讲究形式感，好比一个人穿了名贵的服装，大家对他的着眼点就变了，这个人的自我，就萎缩了，《贝利•林登》的画面太唯美，反而让我看得兴味索然，爱尔兰的山川风物的确美仑美奂，这处凯尔特人大神的居所，具有神圣的地貌，不过，碧绿的草坂，参天巨树，掠夺了我对其中人物命运的关注，更糟糕的是，很多观众喜欢上了里边“史诗般的场景”，说的是战争双方几千人的大场面，其实整个故事讲述的是关于命运，一个人的命运，与山川古堡战争这些只有些许的联系，我们的主人公生活在其中，他才应该是我们关注的主角。

        一名17世纪的爱尔兰青年到底能做些什么？他可以爱上他的表妹，当然他的表妹也可以丢开他与英国骑兵队长订婚，他们都可以吃饱饭而又穿着干净整齐的衣服，说明社会已经文明到可以谈恋爱的程度了，而社会制度也到了可以与情敌决斗的程度，贝利的父亲决斗致死，贝利本人决斗被骗而远走他乡，而贝利与养子的决斗更被导演渲染，成了一出哈姆莱特式的复仇剧，只不过其中的主角成了克劳迪斯而已。在看这部电影之前我看过剧情简介，上面说贝利经过投机钻营而成为贵族，这显然是非常遗憾的对故事的误读，恰恰相反，贝利是经过千辛万苦的投机钻营而混入上流社会，想成为贵族而功亏一篑，最后被养子赶回老家，供以微薄的薪奉，这正是导演借以说明的个人命运悲剧。

一名17世纪的爱尔兰青年到底能做些什么？他可以背井离乡，他可以当兵逃跑再被抓壮丁，他可以在战争结束之后充当间谍，他也可以时来运转而跟着假伯爵大发横财，他由此而混入上流社会，他勾搭地方长官的夫人，并气死长官本人，从而鹊巢鸠占，掌管一座城堡一样的辉煌宫殿，他虐待养子，他宠爱自己的小儿子，但是，他就是得不到梦寐以求的爵位，当他与贵妇人的小儿子堕马身亡之后，他也就失去了在这个家族中的地位，正如他老母亲预言的那样，他在刹那间一无所有了，只能终老乡间，靠回忆过日子。

这部电影改编自威廉•萨克雷的同名小说，这位以小说《名利场》闻名于世的大作家，当然具备森严的法度，这为电影的史诗梦想提供了可能的基础，摄影师出身的库布里克是出名的苛刻导演，他的摄影师经常抱怨他干涉过多，抢走了自己的饭碗，在这一部电影里也是一样，我猜想那些精制的构图都是这么出来的，他在夜里使用大量的蜡烛，古堡如此幽深，人物如此幽怨，大概连演员擦的粉也是来自于几个世纪之前，使得画面完全就是油画的翻版，在71年他的“操”电影招来骂声一片后，75年他的这部“啊”电影终于皆大欢喜，赢得多项奥斯卡大奖。

最近抽空断断续续地把《乱世儿女》又看了一遍，这是第四遍。
针对这部电影的褒扬与批评交叉在电影技术这一点上：服装、道具、配乐、F0.7的镜头、烛光、油画般的画面……赞赏者说：牛逼！批评者说：形式主义！这种倾向与奥斯卡对库布里克的评价一致。《2001太空漫游》带给他一个最佳技术奖，《乱世儿女》则是最佳服装、道具、摄影和配乐。不论戛纳，还是奥斯卡，他一生无缘导演编剧奖项。
当众人把库布里克看作一个偏执的细节控时，请想一想，拥有他那般心智的人，会拍一部华丽其外，空洞其里的片子吗？
《2001太空漫游》、《发条橙》、《大开眼戒》都被镀上了令人惊叹的形式，但在它们的形式下面有着与之匹配的深厚内涵。用土里土气的语言说，是“艺术形式与创作内容的完美结合”。《乱世儿女》一样，有一种大气、无形，让人一次次回味，而不感到腻歪的魅力，也就是库布里克本人的魅力。
在《乱世儿女》均衡的田园构图、复古的情调与极浅极柔和景深之下，库布里克讲了一个充满哲理的故事，而且是人民群众喜闻乐见的人生哲理。罗素曾说，如果你觉得不快乐，就想想你在宇宙中是如此渺小的一个粒子，从生到灭，不过如此。我觉得这个心理建议不太可行，它非但不让人释怀，反而增加恐惧，因为人的恐惧正来自于对生命渺小的恐惧，害怕活了一辈子什么都不是。库布里克用电影语言讲的哲理故事和罗素的话一个道理，但温和许多，看了舒坦。
故事发生在十八世纪的英国，一个一文不名的爱尔兰小伙子瑞蒙德•巴瑞初恋受挫，远走他乡。在数年内，通过巧合、运气与自身的魄力，他曲折地踏上了人生的顶峰，娶了一个漂亮的贵族寡妇，享有她的全部财产，还得到一个心爱的儿子。然而，他的人生好像一条抛物线，到达最大值便一路向下滑落，直到失去一切，回到起点。而他的一生和生命中的时间，却再也回不去了。
在这个浅白又俗套的故事背后，是一个“人”的状况：一个人与历史的关系、世俗生活对他的价值、他生命的意义。片中有几段旁白与字幕对这种“状况”作了一点诠释：
巴瑞所在的部队渡过英吉利海峡，去和法国人打那场“七年战争”。当军舰乘风破浪的时候，旁白说：
It would require a great philosopher and historian to explain the causes of the famous Seven Years War in which Europe was engaged and in which Barry’s regiment was now on its way to take part. Let it suffice to say, that England and Prussia were allies and at war against the French, the Swedes, the Russians and the Austrians.

开战的时刻，旁白接着说：
Barry's first taste of battle was only a skirmish against a small rearguard of Frenchmen who occupied an orchard beside a road down which, a few hours later, the English main force would wish to pass. Though this encounter is not recorded in any history books, it was memorable enough for those who took part...
It is well to dream of glorious war in a snug armchair at home, but it is a very different thing to see it first hand…

一场让史学家争论不休的战争，一次被后人遗忘的战役，对于几百年前身处战场的巴瑞，却意味着闪烁不明的命运，对于那些敲着鼓，顶着子弹倒下的士兵来说，则意味着一切的终结。
巴瑞幸运地躲过了子弹，之后，他像一个冲浪高手，在各种境遇中穿梭自如，名利双收。巴瑞远非完人，他是一个虚无的奋斗者，在历史中仿佛一粒灰尘，却是一个伟大的父亲：

Barry had his faults, but no one could say of him that he is not a good and tender father. He loved his son with blind partiality. He denied him nothing. It is impossible to convey what high hopes he had for the boy and he indulged in a thousand fond anticipations as to his future success and figure in the world. But Fate had determined that he should leave none of his race behind him, and that he should finish his life poor, lonely and childless.

但是，“命中注定，他的后代无法延续他生命的痕迹。”当他的年幼儿子坠马重伤，躺在床上濒死之际，巴瑞失声痛哭。
终于，他为之倾注了所有的爱的儿子，也是他与这个永恒而无情的世界的唯一联接，死了。
镜头突然切向他儿子的葬礼，送葬的队伍，小巧的黑色棺材，配上牧师的悼词和略带忧伤的恢弘配乐。整部电影里我印象最深的就是这个镜头，我觉得，库布里克的温情尽在其中，虽然整部电影的视角冷峻而疏离。
巴瑞在最后的决斗中失去一条小腿，再次离家远行，成了一个孤独、落魄的残废，一个失败的赌徒，后来了无音讯。

片尾的字幕写道：
It was in the reign of George III that the aforesaid personages lived and quarreled - good or bad, handsome or ugly, rich or poor - they are all equal now.

巴瑞的一生青涩过、勇猛过、纠结过、悲痛过……几百年后看，都无所谓了。

这个俗套的人生故事讲完了，与《知音》上的文章没什么本质的不同。也许，世上本没有俗套，恶俗的人多了，便俗了起来。如果让库布里克用他的摄影、配乐、布景来讲一个俗套的故事，就好听极了。所以，不可低估了他。

库布里克另一个被低估的地方是，许多人以为他是不计后果的艺术疯子，不惜一切代价追求视觉效果。实际上，尽管《乱世儿女》当年的票房不理想，总的来说，他的电影赚了大钱（只说票房，不算DVD之类的衍生品）。《乱世儿女》里服饰精致无比，但是，为了节约成本，许多远景中的群众演员穿的是纸做的衣服。

Barry Lyndon

Written for the Screen
Produced and Directed

By Stanley Kubrick