Offret

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.

Please forgive this disorganized, vague rambling...it is difficult to put into words what this film has done for me, as it is a spiritual experiment in time and character more than it is a traditional film.

I will say right off that this movie is not for everyone. Tarkovsky is a fan of long takes, slow character development and awkward silences. Even though this is one of my favourite films, it was a struggle to get through the whole thing...which is, in fact, an effective medium to describe a man who is finding it a struggle to progress with his everyday life. The settings are fittingly dreary and dismal; indeed, his son seems to be the only spark of life in the film.

There is no plot to speak of; the film is an in-depth character study. Tarkovsky has given the main character so many dimensions that one cannot help but wonder if it is semi-autobiographical. Elements of magic realism serve to enhance the character's despair and isolation, but there are finely-crafted human details -- such as a shaking hand that must try twice to light a match properly -- that give the film a very realistic sense. The world Tarkovsky has created is like a vivid dream.

The images in this movie are incredible: watch for his use of fire, wood, earth and water, for all four elements are heavily drawn upon in his shots.

There is a documentary floating around out there that has Tarkovsky discuss this film in depth; it shows the processes he invented to create some of the takes, and the stubbornness he exhibits to get everything to match his vision perfectly. I saw the documentary before the film, and I think it only added to my appreciation. His book, "Sculpting in Time," also offers insights and bits of philosophy that add dimensions to this movie.

Though I regret that Tarkovsky passed before he could produce more works like this, "The Sacrifice" is a fitting epilogue to his collection of films, and perhaps the best eulogy a person could ever hope for.

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.

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.