Andrej Rublev

The life and times of Andrei Rublev, Russian iconographer of the early-15th century. Over seven periods in his life, spanning 1400 to 1424, we see the history of Russia, the power struggles, the role of the church and religion and Rublev's dedication to his calling.

A bit difficult to review this movie. It is clearly the work of a master craftsman: the exquisite cinematography, the sheer scale of the subject matter and time period, the themes, the obvious adoration director Andrei Tarkovsky has for his subject.

Yet it is often quite a grind to watch: clocks in at well over 3 hours and moves very slowly. Several scenes will go by without development in plot or theme. Furthermore, the separate time periods don't necessarily form a narrative. They often just feel like things happening, with no connection between them.

While acknowledging that the film is well made, I fail to see how it is so highly regarded. I did not come away feeling that I had just watched a masterpiece, something incredibly profound or moving.

Some historical knowledge will definitely not hurt while watching this film.

The medieval society was deeply religious. The church influenced every aspect of people's lives from birth to death and was part of the state. It means religious leaders were as important as rulers.

In Russian society men were wearing beards and women covered hairs. Remove a beard from a man or uncover woman's hair and you will humiliate them, they would feel like modern people being undressed in public.

Paganism is a form of religion, where people believe in many gods instead of one. The main Russian pagan gods are the goddess of the earth and the god of the sun. Among others - the god of storms and lightning, the mythical young women living in forests and rivers. Despite many centuries of suppression of paganism by authorities some in modern Russia still celebrate the feast of Ivan Kupala (which could be translated as Ivan Gathering) depicted in the movie.

Also I have to mention, that Soviet censors told Tarkovski the movie is too cruel. They told him the scene with a burning cow, for example, is absolutely unacceptable. Tarkovski tried to defend the movie. The cow wasn't harmed, was his reasoning. Still the film was cut. The censors knew better what is good and what is not for the viewer.

This brings us to what is the message of Tarkovski in this film. There are many messages actually. I'll be telling only about one here, because it is not hidden. It is there, in the dispute between Rublov and Theophanes The Greek. They both are talented, both want to bring people to humanity. Theophanes is tired, he says - common people live in darkness, they are completely consumed by sin and the only way to make them humans is to scare them and punish them. Rublov advocates for love. He says: people live very difficult life, it's amazing how they endure it. We have to love them, to remind them, they are humans, they are Russians. You see, the first is the position of the Soviet system, the second - of Jesus Christ.

Me? I'm still sitting on the fence. :)

I recommend to watch this movie many times. You will do it without my recommendation though, if you (like me) will not understand everything from the first view and you like to think. The mesmerizing beauty of this movie will help you to return easier. For the first time be prepared for not a cakewalk. There are two things to consider here. One is the cruelty. Though it is absolutely necessary in this film, most of us living in a comfort of modern society are not ready to it. The other is the pace. Often it is a pace of real life.

Peace.

One of the finest films ever made. Films like this are what give the medium its purpose. It is rich, beautifully shot and acted, and extraordinarily powerful. Like all great works of art, it requires many viewings and much thought to discover the various layers of intellectual and aesthetic meaning within it. That is why a simple description of the plot would give the prospective viewer little idea of what the movie is actually about. True, it is the tale of Russia's greatest icon painter. But it is also a rumination on art, the artist, relgion, love, culture, conformity, cruelty, and much more. See it and discuss it with some bright friends.

I follow several threads of fine films. Most of these concern intelligent notions of structure, of architecture. Welles, Greenaway, Eisenstein, Kurosawa. These mend sense and intellect enhancing both.

But there is another thread, one that eschews selfaware structure -- where idea is anathema. Nature is celebrated. Rich intuition and meditative spontaneity are sufficiently nutritious in some hands, but these are amazingly few. The so-called 'new wave' tried it, at least initially. Lots of other appearances as well, mostly failures, some lovely. Among the attempts, I know of only two filmmakers who have mastered this tricky approach of avoiding knowledge: Tarkovsky and Malick. Of these, Malick is more abstractly sensual.

After all, Tarkovsky must deal with that dark cloth of Russian self-pity, that tradition of grand themes and epic fate, something which does not burden Malick. So the metaphoric content is heavy. That's fine, an acceptable skeleton for a nearly three hour meditation. All is self-referential: a set of images about an imagemaker: the actor's wife played the retarded girl who factors so importantly. During the production he was cheating on her with who was to become his second wife. The girl goes off with a Tartar, leaving Rublev. Many other scenes refer to Rublev's situation, resolved by Tarkovsky's action. For instance, we have a sequence where Rublev hesitates to paint a scene of fateful pain. This is followed by Tarkovsky doing just that. The extension of metaphor among parts of the film (ballooner and bellringer to Rublev's story) extends from the film to the filmmaker and thence from him to us.

What I found even more interesting was his confidence in complex compositions and long, long multiperspective tracking shots. Compared to other swoopers, this camera seems curious, impetuous, not at all as if the shots were planned. Hard to believe it is only his second feature. This alone expands one's imagination with only a couple viewings, but combined with the notion of folded metaphor (including visual metaphor) it becomes a truly great and singular work.

(Some classical symmetries touch multiple places: a jester within the play; solitude in the context of relationship; creating in the unknown; broken symmetry through one twin killing another. Some new ones: pagan fire and water underlying ritual exuberance, either sex or religious art.)

Alas, the DVD has a discouragingly vapid commentary. But then I guess that's the whole point, and with the loss of potatohead Soviets, we need to substitute the next best thing.

"Andrei Rublev" is not merely my favourite all-time film; it transcends such pat, by-the-numbers praise. I have seen "Andrei Rublev" three times (twice on the big screen), at three very different points in my life. Each viewing, it has spoken eloquently and directly, has immersed and fascinated me. And has moved me with superlative skill and force. Other great movies have entertained me, inspired me, made me think; only "Rublev" has palpably altered my outlook on life.

Andrei Rublev was a medieval Russian iconographer; the film chronicles his struggle to maintain faith and artistry in a world of immeasurable cruelty and suffering. Rather than give us a crackerjack plot line with all the proper scene climaxes & paradigm shifts, director Tarkovsky presents us with a world in which we must immerse ourselves; once we are inside, we are confronted with rigorous pain and profound triumph. The movie is divided into chapters; the final one, involving an orphaned bell-maker's son, is a stunning film-within-a-film that provides a microcosm of the whole movie. That section, if it stood alone, would be my all-time favourite film.

Be warned: "Andrei Rublev" is SLOW. You have to slide into it; it's not a flick which dazzles, it is a world which beguiles, and which demands to be inhabited. Also, there are EXTREMELY difficult scenes to watch--torture and bloodshed abounds. Watching the Tartar attack on a Russian town is the most painful experience I've ever had--not just in a cinema, but in life.

For those willing to make the gruelling trek, however, "Andrei Rublev" is an inspiring, life-affecting experience. Created under an oppressive Soviet regime (which banned the film for years, recognizing its symbolic commentary on 20th-century Soviet government), the film shows how life can be valuable and even joyful, no matter how much suffering stands in the way.

Especially recommended for Tarkovsky fans, Dostoevsky fans, fans of medieval art, and anyone grappling with questions about suffering and human expression.