I try to avoid sad movies. Someone once said, "I only like movies with happy endings. Who wants to pay money to be depressed?!" Which is why I inflicted "Barry Lyndon" on myself only recently, and not during an earlier 3-hour lapse of torture-time. But Kubrick mugged me of my willpower, and without this heavy armor I was protected no longer. Imagine my relief when the foe I had so feared laid hands on me not. Can you tell I'm still trying to get through this movie?!?! It's 2 o'clock in the morning and I've still got a half-hour to go! Anyway, my point is hobbling away... You see, "Barry Lyndon" did not depress me in the least. It did not live up to the many warnings. I didn't feel sorry for him, for his wife, or for his poor spoiled children. I only felt sorry for the poor little bunny, who was made to materialize into a wooden box for the sake of amusing one such of the said spoiled brats, all without the little leporine's consent. So what if 'leporine' is an adjective...