Andrei Tarkovsky: The Logic of Poetry

Though he directed less than a dozen feature films during his career, Andrei Tarkovsky's work represents one of the most unique and profound contribu­tions to the history of the cinema. Neither an entertainer nor a mere aesthetician, Tarkovsky was a genuine visionary which explains, in part, the complex and oddly disturbing nature of his films. Throughout his films, Tarkovsky sought a form of film language that was closer to the rhythms of poetry rather than the traditional narrative structures of the cinema, and through this poetic form, he explored the possible redemption of the human race. Like Tolstoy, who was one of his influences, Tarkovsky embraced a metaphysical view that is still only partially understood. In turn, the philosophical density of his work was fueled by an increasing sense of emotional urgency as he searched for a spiritual rebirth within the crumbling structures of civilization.

Tarkovsky was born in Savrashye on the Volga on April 4, 1932. His father was the Russian poet Arseniy Tarkovsky, whose work would be another major influence on his son's career. It was his mother, however, who guided him toward the arts, ranging from music to drawing and eventual admission into the Institute for Oriental Languages. He left his studies, however, to join a geological expedition to Siberia and, upon his return in 1954, he was accepted into the Moscow Film School. The eccentric nature of his studies delayed his work and his first feature film, My Name is Ivan, was not made until 1962.

My Name is Ivan was originally begun under the direction of E. Abalov. Abalov's direction, however, was viewed as artistically unsatisfactory and the project was about to be abandoned until Tarkovsky agreed to take over as director. Tarkovsky was less than impressed with either the original story or screenplay and extensively restructured the film during shooting. Though he viewed My Name is Ivan as one of his least personal films, his critical attitude can only be understood in regards to the idiosyncratic nature of the works that were to follow. Otherwise, the film was an unusual and surprising production within the Soviet cinema of the 1960s. Further, it contained most of Tarkovsky's distinctive trademarks.

The narrative of My Name is Ivan invokes the traditionally realistic tone of the Soviet cinema of the period, but Tarkovsky's stylization uses an unusual free association between dreams, reality, and memory; music, art, and religion. The past and present are interwoven into an emotional tapestry that reflects the central character's psychological states. Recurring images and symbols create a thematic world in which the dead must return to console the living and the destiny of a people are etched onto the face of one young boy. Ivan's final destiny is presented as a testament to the strength of one human being against the overwhelming assault of history.

This sense of the cruel progression of history forms part of the basis of Tarkovsky's epic Andrei Rublev (USSR 1969). Its presentation of the violence in 15th century Russia was initially considered too disturbing by Soviet censors, who also rejected its over-all theme of the artist as. a man working in opposition to his society. Though very little is known about the real Andrei Rublev, and the film is largely a fictional treatment of the icon painter's life, Tarkovsky's production presents a vivid and controversial view of Russia during the time of the Tartar invasions. In between its many sudden and violent deaths and pagan rituals, Andrei Rublev offers Tarkovsky's own deep faith in humanity, a faith that manages to survive despite the butchery and hypocrisies surrounding the film's hero. Andrei Rublev was also the first film by Tarkovsky to suggest that the salvation of the human race may be possible only through faith and miracle.

The need to confront oneself is, in part, the underlying thesis of The Mirror (USSR 1975). Largely autobiographical, the film's highly experimental structure presents Tarkovsky's experiences with the horrors of World War Two, his father's departure from his family, and the political fears of intellectuals in the Soviet Union during the 1940s and 1950s. Composed of dreams, recollections, and newsreel footage, The Mirror presents the viewer with questions rather than answers, mysteries rather than explanations. Instead, Tarkovsky seeks a form of non meditated introspection of his emotional and biographical existence and, through this introspection, attempts to discover a reflection of both himself and of the history that has shaped him.

In both The Mirror and Nostalghia (USSR/Italy 1983), this process of intro­spection allows Tarkovsky to reach beyond the limits of materialism as he began searching for some more meaningful sense of humanity. Part of this process was motivated by Tarkovsky's growing concern that the human race was on the verge of extinction and his later films became increasingly apocalyptic in their visual content. For Tarkovsky, modern technology was devouring the natural world and mankind was becoming alienated and spiritually dead. An urgent sense of catastrophe filters through out his final films as he desperately sought ways by which mankind might redeem itself. He viewed this redemption as being possible, in part, by the rediscovery of a spiritual world that extended beyond the normative ranges of reality. Admittedly, Tarkovsky seemed to have been in the process of rejecting the materialistic venue of the modern Western world even while he was in the process of defecting to the West. As Nostalghia suggests, Tarkovsky felt the need to quickly expand his vision to a level that he might not have been able to achieve in the Soviet Union, yet his deepest concerns and longings remained firmly committed to the moods and spirit of his Russian homeland.