El sacrificio

Andrei Tarkovsky was without a doubt one of the genuine artist working in the cinema. With films such as "Andrei Rublev", "Solaris", "Mirror", Stalker" and "Nostalghia", Tarkovsky enriched the world with powerful works for art. "Sacrifice" was his final film, made while Tarkovsky was dying of cancer. The story concerns an elderly academic who lives with his family in a rural part of Sweden. When he learns that about an imminent nuclear war, he makes a desperate pact with God. The film is astonishingly beautiful, like all Tarkovsky's films. Images of nature, water and fire feature prominently, as does the shifting from colour images to black and white.

It is important to remember that Tarkovsky is not a very accessible film-maker, and his films make great demands on viewer's patience and attention, but if you are willing to make the effort you will be rewarded by an unforgettable experience.

It is difficult to find words expressive enough for Tarkovsky's final--and perhaps greatest--work. One could briefly explain some of the plot, but that would mean nothing. This is a film that speaks of terror, of faith, and above all, of binding promises. An intellectual, living in a remote and beautiful cottage is celebrating his birthday with friends and family--when war is announced. Promises of life, and of death are the main premise of the film, and one cannot walk away from it. This is the sort of film that terrifies, ensnares, and draws you in, so that no matter what the moment, you cannot rip yourself away. Filmed with supreme skill and incredible beauty (every separate shot is breathtaking), this is a film that forces you to look at your life, your premises, and your entire evaluation of existence.

The question of liking or disliking this film is unimportant. Undoubtedly there will be people who will dislike it. But the one thing that is indeed impossible, is to remain indifferent to it.

Tarkovsky's death bed film certainly lacks some of the fire and energy of his earlier work, but the story of Alexander's search for faith amidst the worst kind of madness is by no means dull. The cinematography and editing are obviously Bergman influenced, but anyone who says that it bothers them to see Tarkovsky borrow the style of another needs to learn more about Eisenstein, Kuleshov, and perhaps Wajda.

This film serves as a stark example of the real difference between the work of the European authors and Hollywood. While viewing, keep an eye on the editing. Th film opens on a five minute long shot in which it is extremely difficult to even discern which character is speaking. The scenes are made up of as few shots as possible and the shortest shot of the entire film is about 10 seconds. There are less than a dozen close ups in the entire piece, which may be why American audiences with their limited attention spans, would reject the film. The Sacrifice might not sit well with Tarkovsky purists, but it's themes and philosophy, I feel, surpass in depth, any of the master's other works.

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.

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...