Solaris - Review

All seven of Tarkovsky's films have recently been re-released in the Sculpting Time retrospective. I took the chance to see go and see his third feature, Solaris.

Tarkovsky's take on science-fiction, tells the tale of psychologist Kris Kelvin (Donatas Banionis) as he travels to a space station to investigate reports of strange goings on. The film opens with images of his garden, capturing the plants in a magical light which establishes a detached, transcendent visual style, maintained throughout the film. Cuts are infrequent as languid camera movements lend a sense of importance to each shot; this slow pace invites us to consider every image in extreme detail, giving the film a contemplative atmosphere.

After discussion with an ex-pilot who claims the star system had supernatural effects on his mind, Kelvin makes his way to the space station. On first arrival, we enter a particularly gripping portion of the film, as Kelvin is confronted with bizarre hallucinations, he starts to question his sanity. The ambiguity which permeates the whole atmosphere creates a tension that is only added to by the precise passivity of Tarkovsky's visuals. Some light is shed when Kelvin meets the other scientists on the station and his descriptions of hallucinations are met with knowing looks of resignation.

As the film continues we come to understand that the star system is able to play with the consciousness of the inhabitants of the station, creating "guests", physical manifestations of the memories the inhabitants. Kelvin sees Hari (Natalya Bondarchuk), a girl he once loved before she commited suicide. It is the relationship that progresses between them that is the heart of the film; as Kelvin comes to love her once again, philosophical questions about the nature of love and perception are posed. Hari has been given self understanding and free will by the star system that gives her the capacity to realise that she isn't the same person that once knew Kelvin. Both of them are distressed by the disconnect between their emotions, giving the film a sorrowful tone as they realise the hopelessness of their relationship.

Comparisons have often been made between this film and Kubrick's 2001. It is true that there are many similarities: reflections on the nature of alien life, a challenging lack of narrative drive, and a captivating visual style. Despite this, I believe the central philosophy of the two films is vastly different. In Solaris, the alien intervention causes introspection and an analysis of human nature, however, in 2001, contemplation of a cosmic scale is caused, as our place in the universe is questioned.   

Of course, there are moments that the glacial pace of the film grates. Some sequences of monologue featuring philosophical ruminations on the role of science near the end of the film lost my attention. However, in many ways, the beauty of the film lies in the slow pace; as a result of the distant meditative approach, a sense of enigmatic grandeur is achieved which would not have been possible in an hour and a half. Few directors would have had the audacity to even attempt a film this unconventional, but through this invention Tarkovsky creates something unique, a quality that should always be appreciated.