Le Sacrifice

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.