Andrei Rublev (1966)Insanely overlong, maddeningly opaque, visually striking but bleak, violent, stark--this would be a very easy movie on which to let the tiger out of the cage. But it also has a great reputation, both among cinephiles in general and among conservatives and the religious. So one is willing to give it more chances than it might otherwise deserve. And if you do stick with it until its final third or so, the rewards are bounteous. Andrei Tarkovsky tells the story of the great 15th Century icon painter, Andrei Rublev (Anatoli Solonitsyn), in a series of vignettes. The film opens with a famous scene of a man being dragged aloft by an escaping hot air balloon. He soars overhead beckoning the people bellow to follow him, but they can't or don't. Much of the rest of the film is taken up with Rublev's wanderings about Rus (old Russia) during a time of paganism, plague, poverty and marauding Tartars. Rublev is so disturbed by what he sees and by one violent reaction of his own, that he retreats into silence and gives up his artistry. But the final episode that he witnesses, which really makes the film, restores his faith and revives his desire to create art. In this last story a young man, the son of a bell maker, convinces a noble's men that he can cast a great bell for them, that his father has handed down the secrets of the trade to him. But as the work progresses the boy, Boriska, makes missteps and squabbles with the workmen who served his father. At one point he is in desperate need of clay to fortify the mold for the bell, but can't find earth of the right consistency anywhere. Then fate intervenes and, chasing a lost shoe, he slides down a hill into a muddy patch of just the right kind of clay. Insisting that he be given a precise mix of precious metals, teetering on the edge of exhaustion, Boriska drives himself until the bell is done. Amazingly, when freed from its mold it proves beautiful and the tone it produces rings true. Only then does the boy reveal how truly miraculous it is that such beauty has arisen from the mud because his father died with the secrets unspoken and Boriska was actually learning as he went. In the end he got by on little more than faith. Rublev, who in this section as in most of the others is more a spectator than a player, goes to the boy and breaking his silence urges the boy to come with him and cast church bells while he, Rublev, will paint icons to adorn the walls. In particular, Rublev has been asked by Abbott Nikon of Radonezh of the Holy Trinity Monastery in Moscow to paint an icon commemorating the prior abbot, St. Sergius of Radonezh. All that has gone before is in black and white, but in the last images of the film Tarkovsky shows color details of Rublev's greatest work, the Icon of the Holy Trinity (1410), based on Genesis 18, when the Trinity is understood to have appeared to Abraham : 1: And the LORD appeared unto him in the plains of
Mamre: and he sat in the tent door in the heat of the day;
Obviously the director is telling us that the themes he has been exploring
in Rublev's life, about which little is actually known, have come together
in this magnificent artwork. As always with Mr. Tarkovsky, it's difficult
to impose precise meanings on his narrative, but some of the ideas we can
trace include the idea that the artist, though he must get down in the
muck and experience life, must at least in his art rise above and lead
the rest if humanity. The Trinity with its mysterious unity may also
represent the necessary unifying of the various strata of the society that
Rublev encountered--the wealthy nobles, the impoverished peasants, the
churchmen who uneasily occupy the middle ground, perhaps even the Tartars.
The painting and the film are certainly both invitations to us to join
with the Trinity in the unity of love that they offer. On a more
personal level the struggle of Boriska to create a bell on his own, without
access to his father's wisdom, apparently represents Tarkovsky's own belief
that each generation must discover artistic truths for itself. On
all these levels, and many more that I'm sure eluded me, the film communicates
its fascinating and beautiful ideas to us, so long as we've the patience
to let it unwind to the end. Websites:See also:-Great Directors--a critical database : Andrei Tarkovsky (Maximilian Le Cain, Senses of Cinema) -Nostalghia.com -ESSAY : Andrei Tarkovsky's Cinema of Spirituality -ESSAY : The Long Take That Kills : Tarkovsky's rejection of montage (Benjamin Halligan, November 2000, Central Europe Review) -ESSAY: Masters in Pieces (David Hudson, FEB 12, 2021, Criterion) -ESSAY : Tarkovsky, or the burning house (Petr Král, 1 March 2001, Screening the Past) -REVIEWS : Andrei Rublyov (1969) (Movie Review Query Engine) -REVIEW : of Andrei Rublev (Nigel Savio D'Sa, Journal of Religion and Film) -REVIEW : of Andrei Rublev (Anna Dzenis, Senses of Cinema) -REVIEW : of Andrei Rublev (Acquarello, Strictly Film School) -REVIEW : of Andrei Rublev (Dev, DVD Beaver) -REVIEW : of Andrei Rublev (Doug Pratt DVD Review) -REVIEW : of Andrei Rublev (Brian Koller, Films Graded) -REVIEW : of Andrei Rublev (BILL SCHWARTZ, Reel.com) -REVIEW : of The Sacrifice (Acquarello, Strictly Film School) -REVIEW : of The Sacrifice (Gino Moliterno, Senses of Cinema) -REVIEW ESSAY : Zarathustra's gift in Tarkovsky's The sacrifice (Gino Moliterno, 1 March 2001, Screening the Past) -REVIEW : of Ivan's Childhood (Fergus Daly and Katherine Waugh, Senses of Cinema) -REVIEW : of Nostalghia (Acquarello, Senses of Cinema) ANDREI RUBLEV :
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