Solaris
1972
Directed by Andrei Tarkovsky
Andrei Tarkovsky made “Solaris” as a response to Kubrick’s “2001: A Space Odyssey” from a few years before, criticizing that film as too cold and detached to convey genuine emotion. He was wrong about Kubrick’s film, which is about evolving beyond our petty human sentiments and is transcendental of the ‘genuine emotion’ he accused it of lacking. But “2001” and “Solaris” are nonetheless excellent companions for one another. Kubrick’s film reaches out, while Tarkovsky’s reaches in.
They do have much in common. They are both science fiction films, they both explore the nature of man on a very broad scale, and they are both tremendously slow and meditative. Their aims are to use the vast and quiet stillness of space to reveal the truths of our existence, to take their audiences to a place of emptiness and reverence where they can contemplate these themes more clearly. Tarkovsky’s aim is to question what it is that makes us human.
They do have much in common. They are both science fiction films, they both explore the nature of man on a very broad scale, and they are both tremendously slow and meditative. Their aims are to use the vast and quiet stillness of space to reveal the truths of our existence, to take their audiences to a place of emptiness and reverence where they can contemplate these themes more clearly. Tarkovsky’s aim is to question what it is that makes us human.
Its brilliant concept is adapted from a novel by Stanislaw Lem. Earth has recently discovered another planet on the far outreaches of our solar system, which we have named Solaris. Studies have shown that the planet is covered by an oceanic consciousness that has the power to manifest itself as the desires of alien minds within its proximity. Russia launches a space station into orbit around the planet to investigate but after only a few weeks, contact with the crew has become mysteriously infrequent and nonsensical.
Russia selects their top psychologist, Kris Kelvin (Donatas Banionis) to go to the space station and determine if further research can safely be conducted. He doesn’t particularly know what he’s getting into, and there is a significant chance that he is walking into a death trap, but he has struggled to carry on since the death of his wife two years before, and isn’t bothered much by the danger.
Kelvin boards the space station to find it in shambles from neglect. The crew wanders the halls quietly mad, nearly traumatized. They disregard Kelvin’s presence. They assume that he is not the real Kelvin, but a manifestation created by Solaris. This proves not to be the case, however, when Kelvin makes his way to his quarters and finds his wife Khari (Natalya Bondarchuk) there waiting for him.
His wife is dead. He knows this. The crew knows this. She is a product of Solaris, which has probed Kelvin’s mind and manifested itself as his deepest desire. Khari does not know this. This is where “Solaris” elevates itself above standard science fiction fare. A lesser movie what have made the planet Solaris a malevolent mind that would aim to destroy the members of the space station by taking human form. But Khari is precisely how Kris remembered her, not just in appearance but in personality. She loves Kris as the original Khari had, and Kris can’t help but love her back, even though he knows she is not technically human.
Russia selects their top psychologist, Kris Kelvin (Donatas Banionis) to go to the space station and determine if further research can safely be conducted. He doesn’t particularly know what he’s getting into, and there is a significant chance that he is walking into a death trap, but he has struggled to carry on since the death of his wife two years before, and isn’t bothered much by the danger.
Kelvin boards the space station to find it in shambles from neglect. The crew wanders the halls quietly mad, nearly traumatized. They disregard Kelvin’s presence. They assume that he is not the real Kelvin, but a manifestation created by Solaris. This proves not to be the case, however, when Kelvin makes his way to his quarters and finds his wife Khari (Natalya Bondarchuk) there waiting for him.
His wife is dead. He knows this. The crew knows this. She is a product of Solaris, which has probed Kelvin’s mind and manifested itself as his deepest desire. Khari does not know this. This is where “Solaris” elevates itself above standard science fiction fare. A lesser movie what have made the planet Solaris a malevolent mind that would aim to destroy the members of the space station by taking human form. But Khari is precisely how Kris remembered her, not just in appearance but in personality. She loves Kris as the original Khari had, and Kris can’t help but love her back, even though he knows she is not technically human.
Ultimately, Tarkovsky is asking us, how real are we if an artificial duplication of our soul mate can inspire the same feelings? Is it our fellow humans that we love, or is it simply the idea of them? What exists outside of our own perception of reality? These are not easy questions, and Tarkovsky certainly doesn’t have the answers. How could he? That he had the courage to ask them at all is telling of his brilliance.
Tarkovsky is often listed alongside Sergei Eisenstein as one of the most important directors of the Soviet Union, and the two filmmakers could not have been more opposite in their approach to the cinema. Eisenstein’s “Battleship Potemkin” revolutionized the concept of the montage, rapid cutting to juxtapose several images into a uniting theme. The “Odessa Steps” sequence in that film is among the most important seven minutes in the history of cinema. The camera cuts rapidly between innocent bystanders and the soldiers gunning them down. The average shot is about two seconds long.
But fifty years later, Tarkovsky’s films favored shots of twenty or thirty seconds. He felt that the long shot had the power to unveil certain higher truths that can only be revealed over time. His films move incredibly slowly because of this. They become reverential. They require that we slow down with them. A film like “Solaris” can only work this way. Tarkovsky gives us time to think about what he’s showing us, he wants to give us time to reflect, to recall our own memories and see them before us, rejuvenated.
Rollan Schott
December 7, 2009
Originally Featured in the Daily Nebraskan
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