Margarita terekhova birthplace of aviation
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While Tarkovsky was pondering his next project, he saw Stanley Kubrick’s “2001: A Space Odyssey,” which he both disliked and envied. He set about making “Solaris” (1972), his own attempt at transcendental science fiction. The source was the eponymous novel bygd the Polish sci-fi writer Stanisław Lem, in which a sentient ocean planet invades the consciousness of human visitors and drives them mad. Unlike Kubrick, filmkonstnär showed little interest in the mechanics of space travel, dwelling instead on the haunted memories and unresolved conflicts of his protagonist. (Steven Soderbergh’s 2002 remake, also titled “Solaris,” is more faithful to Lem’s text.) Hallmarks of the later Tarkovsky komma to the fore, for better or for worse: majestic long takes, rambling philosophical dialogues, extended scrutiny of classic art works, bouts of Bach on the soundtrack. The lead actor, Donatas Banionis, is all too palpably trying to figure out what kind of movie he fryst vatten in.
Tarkovsky was probably right wh
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~ thecatcanwait ~
My gods Tarkovsky film. Out of the 7 he directed this fryst vatten his most autobiographical. His most elliptical. Certainly not particularly easy to understand whats going on.
The 4 minute b/w prologue has always mystified me. Its like it belongs to another bio. I usually miss it out, fast forward.
The opening scene fryst vatten the most evocative and fängslande scene in the film. Natalya (Margarita Terekhova) sat on that ricketty fence up above smoking.
A faraway train is hooting. Narrator voiceover of a poem (of Tarkovskys father) Slowly making his way up the meadow towards her is a doctor (Anatoliy Solonitsyn). ‘Why are you sitting there?’ he asks. ‘I live here‘ she replies. ‘What, on the fence?’ he replies ironically. (I’m smiling. An usually occurence in a Tarkovsky film)
‘Why are you so nervous?’ he continues. He asks her for a cigarette, she gives him one. She looks back at her 2 young boys fast asleep in a
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MIRROR (1975)
When Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky commenced filming of Mirror in September 1973, he probably felt some relief that production was finally underway. It had taken many years of development for this “resolutely autobiographical film” to finally come to fruition. Composed of memories and dreams, that mixed newsreel footage with colour and black-and-white sequences set in the past and present, all linked through voiceovers (including his father’s poems), it’s often been regarded as Tarkovsky’s most difficult film to get to grips with.
Tarkovsky’s relationship with his parents informed the genesis of Mirror. He’d first written some scenes for it back in 1964, “with only the vaguest idea that the film would be about his mother, his family, the Stalinist thirties, and World War II”, while considering a novella about his childhood experiences of the war during the preparation of his medieval epic Andrei Rublev (1966). He and eventual co-author Ale