I found myself alone in the Cinerama Dome when Stanley Kubrick’s film “Barry Lyndon” played there. The theater has 800 seats, with the screen size measuring 32 feet (9.8 m) high and 86 feet (26 m) wide. The architecture of the theater is based on the geodesic dome developed by R. Buckminister Fuller. I remember entering the ample space and feeling odd to be the only person in the audience. Besides me, there was an usher at the theater entrance and another one by the other entrance/exit. I imagine all I had to do was raise my finger, and I would get exceptional service.
I went to see this specific showing of “Barry Lyndon” as an invitation from the sponsors who organized a special presentation of the film but shown in extreme slow motion. The film typically lasts for three hours and seven minutes. The version I saw is precisely that one but slowed down where it lasts for eight hours. Interesting to note that Kubrick ordered no breaks or intermission during this showing. One would have to sit through the entire film if they wanted to see everything in that format or version. But to be honest, I did take a bathroom break and pretty much came back to almost the same scene. Also, one has to note that this was a completely silent version, and there was no soundtrack whatsoever.
For me, filmgoing was never about being with the public or audience, but more of a solitary relationship between the images on a large screen and yours truly. When I started to write about the cinema, it was then that I realized I needed to be aware of what is taking place in front of my eyes. Typically I would fall asleep or start daydreaming beyond whatever is showing in front of me. I have seen so many classic films at the Cinerama Dome. Yet, even with total concentration, I rarely remember what I saw or anything about the plot or even the movie actors. It’s similar to having a livid dream full of detailed images, but after awaken you can’t remember any of it.
So, watching “Barry Lyndon” in such a manner is very much like being in a deep dream state. After the eight-hour showing, I have no memory of the first two or three hours, and by the following day, hardly any memory of the film itself. I remember being in a brilliant architectural large room and the feeling of being totally alone or even separated from the world. To be honest, they could have just shone a pure white light on the screen, and I would have been satisfied with the experience.