El sacrificio

It has the makings of a film I'd usually like - intellectuals pondering man's fate and the existential threat of nuclear war, the poetic visions of Andrei Tarkovsky, and cinematographer Sven Nykvist - and as it was Tarkovsky's last film, I feel bad I didn't like it more.

The setup is strong, with that long conversation with the postman and then the pessimism in the monolog of the main character (Erland Josephson) while his son crawls around: "We have acquired a dreadful disharmony, an imbalance if you will, between our material and our spiritual development. Our culture is defective. I mean, our civilization. Basically defective, my boy! Perhaps you mean that we ought to study the problem, and look for a solution together. Perhaps we could, if it wasn't so late. Altogether too late."

I also liked the indirect imagery of war, with the planes rocketing by overhead rattling the cupboards, and the apocalyptic television broadcast that suddenly goes dark. The film was made when nuclear Armageddon was still the biggest fear for humanity's survival, and Tarkovsky is brilliant in the restraint he exercises in these scenes, which effectively amplifies it.

Warning, spoilers from here on.

In an allegorical way, the film then seems to show three reactions to such extreme, existential fear: (1) anxiety and/or panic that's muted through alcohol or sedatives (2) praying with all one's heart to God, and (3) turning to more earthly pleasures, and perhaps making a deal with the Devil via a witch. Maybe these are the three basic ways people tend to respond in life, facing a world with so many problems and knowing they will die one way or another. Get anesthetized, get holy, or get laid.

In each of these things though, I was a little disappointed with what Tarkovsky was showing me: (1) the wife's panic is overwrought and I cringed over the daughter's forced sedation, (2) plays on the stereotype of the atheist turning to God when the chips are down, and (3) is just weird, even if taken in some symbolic way. These scenes also go on for too long, and are absent interesting philosophical dialogue.

It's all subject to interpretation and there is no shortage of analyses about the film, but it then seems to show the nuclear war avoided (yay god! Or yay witch?), but the man's demise unavoidable (that shot with the ambulance, while prolonged, was excellent). Was this guy just going insane all along, crushed by his pessimism and fear for his own mortality? Regardless, Tarkovsky seems to show that while humanity somehow finds a way forward without wiping itself out, the next generation will always replace us, a bittersweet message which yet somehow has hope.

There's a lot to chew on and I confess I liked thinking about the film more than I liked actually seeing it, if that makes any sense. Ultimately the religious overtones, its length, and the middle sections which I thought were weak dragged it down for me. It's worth seeing, but I don't think I would want to watch it again.

This last film by the great Tarkovsky and seen as an article of pure faith by many, suffered from production problems, the largest being a camera jamming which resulted in the cast and crew pulling together to rebuild a set so that the film could be completed. Tarkovsky had suffered worse, not least the loss of an entire film due to a lab fault back in Russia. His chief problem was adjusting to the more formal structure of crewing in the west as opposed to the freedom afforded him back in the Soviet Union. I think the main problem affecting this film is it seems unduly influenced by Bergman and has the same cameraman. The hysterical women on the floor especially reminds me of 'Cries And Whispers'. Mimicking another's style, even one as great as Bergman's, diminished him somehow. Also, I can't pretend to understood the plot which at times seemed eccentric to the point of obtuseness and silliness, not least the rather too sudden appearance of an ambulance and the puzzling business involving a witch. Why anyone should suspose such an involvement would prevent a nuclear war is perplexing. Also the tired use of yet another levitation motif suggested Tarkovsky may have been running out of artistic steam. On the plus side there is an enigmatic soundtrack of what sounds like sheet metal work, suggesting spiritual discord perhaps?

Whether one engages with a Tarkovsky film depends on whether you identify with whatever spiritual problem his character is wrestling with. Some people are more concerned with nuclear issues than others. Some may see the sacrifice made by Otto as an inspiring spiritual one against his own interests. Certainly Tarkovsky seemed enamoured of the concept of the holy fool, weak and perhaps misguided and foolish individuals who are disenfranchised but in their lowliness somehow admirable and insightful on some matters. Others of a more secular persuasion may see Otto's sacrifice as selfish (his family being affected) and merely the pointless actions of the benighted. I'm sitting on the fence. The final sequence, which for the reasons above had to be re-shot is sadly not one of Tarkovsky's best. He has this need not to edit for the audience and prefers scenes to run to their own inner dynamic. It didn't work for me.

Tarkovsky was dying of cancer during the making of this film and the watering of the withered tree is actually an older myth, ruminated upon in his extraordinary book 'Sculpting In Time'. It is about 'the truth' as he sees it and is a Christian one. Unfortunately, I don't think this film was all it could have been but I see why it means so much to many. In my opinion he was perhaps the greatest film maker of all time and we are unlikely to see his like again. He believed that the gift of friendship was the most natural and important one to give as it is the one most open to us all.

SPOILER: This is the best movie I have seen so far. I watch it again about once or twice a year, like a ritual or an annual holiday I would be taking into levels of consciousness where the mind is not really required. I do not understand, and I do not feel like I have to, it is secondary. I feel touched like only pure and silent beauty can touch me, or bliss. It is obviously created around an idea of sacrifice, being both a gift to others but also to ourselves. By offering his life in order to save his family, his grandson and the world, the main character is also giving a true meaning to his own life that had mostly been of artificiality, questionings and shallowness. Every person who enters the house, he starts seeing under a deeper if not more expressionistic light... And when he meets with magic (while making love with the witch) he creates the bridge that will take him from reality into mystery. The whole film is as breathtaking and self-sufficient as a painting, or even more so, a Russian icon. It is ageless. I suppose it will remain with me for my entire life. I consider it Tarkovsky's last will, but even more so a piece of the Human Heritage that should be protected and kept accessible for future generation.

Behold, a torrential spew of superlatives; "Sacrifice captivates the heart." "Sacrifice stirs the soul" "Sacrifice devastates as well as it rehabilitates"....you get my drift...

An almost mythic blend of haunting imagery, rich audio cues and astounding performances, this masterwork of introspection spins a sublime poem on the conundrums of faith, unconditional love, the nature of reality and the very meaning of sacrifice. I cannot help but be moved me truly, madly, deeply.

By the time a boy rests by a lonesome tree, I realized few films will come close to injecting me with such revelatory euphoria. The Sacrifice shall be as close a religious epiphany as this "sinner" is ever gonna get. Sigh...

This is a spare and haunting work that weaves its spell slowly yet powerfully. Every shot is framed with loving care, and Tarkovsky allows the camera to remain fixed on a scene as events unfold. It's perhaps the most beautifully photographed film I've ever seen. There's very little music during the course of the movie, yet subtle, mysterious sounds contribute to an overall feeling of mystery and foreboding. The acting and dialogue are no doubt greatly influenced by the work of Bergman. Perhaps the film is a kind of homage to him.

This is definitely not a popcorn movie, nor one to see on a first date. I recommend you see it when you're not distracted or impatient - when you can be fully present and mindful as events develop at an unhurried, organic, human pace. The cumulative effect is devastating, yet somehow wonderfully cathartic.