Nostalghia

There are very few people worthy of the accolade of "Genius" but the late Russian film-maker Andrei Tarkovsky was definitely one of them. In his film-making career he is responsible for some of the most beautiful images ever to be put on a cinema screen.

"Nostalghia" deals with a Russian poet who is in Italy to research the life of a Russian composer, who died there. Accompanied only by his female, Italian, interpretor, who is attracted to him, the poet feels strong feelings of home-sickness for Russia and he strongly misses his wife and child who stayed behind.

This was Tarkovsky's first film made outside the Soviet Union (and his first in a language other than Russian), but it is still very obviously a Tarkovsky film, complete with many haunting images of water and fire. in fact, instead of the beautiful, sun-drenched Italy we are used to seeing on film, here the country is grey, wet and shrouded in mist. As usual in Tarkovsky's films there are many changes between colour footage and black-and-white (or sepia). Here, the poet's memories of Russia are presented in monochrome.

As with all Tarkovsky films, "Nostalghia" demands a great deal from the viewer. It is very slow moving and requires a great deal of patience and concentration. Also, be warned that Tarkovsky did not see cinema as "entertainment" but as an art form. I would advise anyone to make the effort and stick with it, though. It is a great work of art.

It's sometimes true that the most demanding movies can yield the most lasting rewards, and the penultimate film by the late Andrei Tarkovsky certainly puts the theory to the test. This was the first feature he directed outside the Soviet Union, and its protagonist is (like Tarkovsky himself was) a Russian artist exiled in Italy. But don't expect anything remotely plot-driven; like other Tarkovsky films it's a dense, challenging exploration of faith, madness and memory: beautiful, enigmatic, intellectual, and extremely slow moving. Many of the sequences are a labor to sit through, but the final shot, in which the director transplants a Russian cottage (complete with landscape) inside the massive walls of an ruined Gothic cathedral, is by itself compelling enough to erase the aftertaste of even the most tedious passages.

The nostalgia, in the film's title, isn't just the physical longing for something in the past, it's the spiritual longing that so many people strive for. This shouldn't surprise an student of Tarkovsky's work since no director, possibly with the exception of Ingmar Bergman, analyzed spirituality as Tarkovsky did.

NOSTALGHIA follows the trekking of a Russian traveling through Italy along with his beautiful interpreter. His purpose for being there does not come to the viewer easily. Most of the scenes in the movie are filled with a lot of silence, and even the action that does take place, is minimal. Eventually, we come to understand that he is there to find some cultural reinforcement for his Russian background. As the film progresses, we seem to take on the role of the main character in the story, as an observer to events. Throughout his travels he becomes a witness to religious processions, theological discussions, and the rituals of a God-fearing lunatic. The lunatic, played masterfully by Erland Josephson, is looked down upon by a lot of local citizens. Apparently, in the past, he locked his family in his house for a long time, anticipating the end of the World. The movie documents his effect on the Russian traveler, and the traveler's longing to recapture his spirituality.

A lot has been said of the ten-minute unbroken sequence where the lead protagonist attempts to carry a lighted candle from one end of a pool to the other. Some see it as utterly boring. Personally, I was fascinated. In it, we see how the protagonist finally attempts to do something in order to recapture his spirituality. For the entire length of the movie he has been an observer, now he is an active participant. To be fair, his action does take the form of a ritual, not the building of a church, or water immersion, but then again, so much of spirituality is ritual. Tarkovsky correctly identifies how it's the continuity that helps us get through life, knowing that some things will never change our strong religious convictions. That's when the protagonist finally comes to realize that action must take place. It's no coincidence that this scene takes place after a demonstration given by the Erland Josephson character. It's an amazing scene. In it he gives an intelligent speech about the desolation of art. It also imparts an important question to the viewer about those who truly make a difference in the world: the observers, or the "insane", who try to take positive action on the behalf of others.

No praise of any Tarkovsky film is complete without talking about the technical angle of his work. In NOSTALGHIA Tarkovsky is proven again to be a master of beauty, carving out beautiful images into the Italian landscape. Even the indoor scenes are beautiful. NOSTALGIA is further evidence of Tarkovsky's desire to elevate film as an art. He paints well...

What a strange film, utterly lacking in narrative, self-indulgent, in a sense tedious, but I sat transfixed for two hours. Someone once described cinema as 'painting with light' and there isn't a single shot in this movie you wouldn't have been proud to photograph. It's utterly beautiful. You don't engage with it as you would with a regular movie, you just sit back and let the images wash over you, frankly I could have watched with the sound off and the subtitles off. I'm lying about the sound. Tarkovsky is a genius for dripping water. The switch between film stock is incredible, the sepia is some of the most breath-taking cinematography I have ever seen. This is pure art house cinema in all its gorgeous, pretentious grandeur.

It is beautifully photographed, and further established Tarkovsky as a genius with natural landscapes and settings. Aside from Orson Welles, Tarkovsky must be the king of atmosphere.

Atmosphere alone does not make a great movie. This movie is unbearably pretentious and slow beyond words. In comparison to Tarkovsky, Ingmar Bergman is an MTV director.

By this stage in his life, Tarkovsky was an acknowledged genius, and apparently nobody on this team ever dared to question his artistic decisions. He simply has no clue of when his point has been made and it's time to move on.

Is he a fine poet? Yes, as great as his father in many ways. I also think he has a marvelous photographer's eye for images. But he really had a complete disdain for communication with the audience, and that aloofness makes this film so hard to watch. Of course, the fact that much of the movie exists in dim remembrances and dreams makes it even less accessible. I don't even know if this film had a script. Some of the actor's dialogue, especially Giordano's, seems unrelated to the scenes they are performing. The actors performed admirably.

I watched it a second time with my fast-forward, and it was much better. He has a way of holding the camera on a still or barely-panning image for many, many seconds - with no sound either, except for his overused running or dripping water cliche. If you fast-forward all of those to the next scene, the movie flows much better.

I consider this movie a disappointment. I always thought Tarkovsky would make a great movie when given Western budgets and technology, but he pretty much just remade his earlier movies on better film stock.

He has a beautiful vision. I wish he had become a photographer instead of a filmmaker.