Despite its sci-fi trappings, this might simply be Tarkovsky's most profound statement about love, as psychologist Donatas Banionis encounters the reincarnation of his dead wife Natalya Bondarchuk aboard the space station circling the mysterious planet Solaris, and somehow circles back to his parents.
The station - when we finally arrive there - is like being in some Roegian thriller, with mysterious glimpses of people who shouldn't be there, and sudden shocks. Her tearing through the door - and herself - is memorable.
Stuffed full of typical Tarkovskian symbols - dogs, remote country houses (dachas), art, nature, people who float, rain, water inside. And that's a definitive scene isn't it, the drifting through the Bruegel to Bach's choral prelude on organ. It's where something mysteriously comes into focus.
A numinous film, like all of his. Written by he and Fridrikh Gorenshteyn from Stanislaw Lem's novel.
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| A complex image |
Photographed by Vadim Yusov, in Eastmancolor, Sovcolor (earth scenes) and in monochrome and tints.
Also great soundtrack. Notice for example in the long sequence driving in to the city, it's not traffic noises you hear but all sorts of industrial, mechanized and spacey stuff.
Like people, I don't think films should be over-analysed. I can't claim to know exactly what Tarkovsky's thinking, but I think he would be content to know the way the films make me feel.
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