The following is one of the entries from my 100 Greatest Films from Italy, Greece, Spain and Portugal list, which I invite you to visit on this site if you haven’t already done so. — Dennis
Self-exiled from the Soviet Union, Andrei Tarkovsky went to Italy. In a highly symbolical, elliptical form, Nostalghia refers to this visit. Consider, for example, the glorious opening: a long-shot, in soft black-and-white, in which female figures, apparently peasants, rendered tiny by distance, their backs facing us, move farther away from the camera at a dreamily slow pace. This reflects the nostalgia of two Andreis for their Russian homeland, from which both are separated: the film’s protagonist, Russian poet Gorèakov, who is in Italy on a mission of academic research; Tarkovsky himself.
Longing and guilt are conjoined in Nostalghia. Gorèakov’s translator, Eugenia, herself Italian, represents Italy, its seduction of the poet away from homeland and spouse. Gorèakov longingly dreams of his wife as Eugenia pursues him sexually. (“You’re a kind of saint,” Eugenia tells him disparagingly.) Meanwhile, Gorèakov is drawn to Domenico (Ingmar Bergman’s Erland Josephson, superb), who has imprisoned his own family to protect them from evil. What kinship does Gorèakov feel for this madman? Perhaps he regrets having left his own loved ones alone, and for years, in the nation that the other Andrei, Tarkovsky, associates with evil. Watching the film, we sense that one Andrei flows in and out of the other.
Incessant wetness (rain; dripping water), patient, subtle camera movements, mirrors and human reflections, church bells, bursts of Beethoven on the soundtrack: here is another of Tarkovsky’s poetic achievements that draws us into a highly subjective experience, as though it were very gradually submerging us in a dreamscape. Candles symbolize spiritual illumination (Tarkovsky is Orthodox Christian and devout), and a stunning scene of public immolation—it is Domenico who goes up in flames—symbolizes Gorèakov’s fierce desire to purge himself of guilt. Tarkovsky is mining his own soul.
Giuseppe Lanci lends magnificent, barely color cinematography.
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NOSTALGHIA (Andrei Tarkovsky, 1983)
The following is one of the entries from my 100 Greatest Films from Italy, Greece, Spain and Portugal list, which I invite you to visit on this site if you haven’t already done so. — Dennis
Self-exiled from the Soviet Union, Andrei Tarkovsky went to Italy. In a highly symbolical, elliptical form, Nostalghia refers to this visit. Consider, for example, the glorious opening: a long-shot, in soft black-and-white, in which female figures, apparently peasants, rendered tiny by distance, their backs facing us, move farther away from the camera at a dreamily slow pace. This reflects the nostalgia of two Andreis for their Russian homeland, from which both are separated: the film’s protagonist, Russian poet Gorèakov, who is in Italy on a mission of academic research; Tarkovsky himself.
Longing and guilt are conjoined in Nostalghia. Gorèakov’s translator, Eugenia, herself Italian, represents Italy, its seduction of the poet away from homeland and spouse. Gorèakov longingly dreams of his wife as Eugenia pursues him sexually. (“You’re a kind of saint,” Eugenia tells him disparagingly.) Meanwhile, Gorèakov is drawn to Domenico (Ingmar Bergman’s Erland Josephson, superb), who has imprisoned his own family to protect them from evil. What kinship does Gorèakov feel for this madman? Perhaps he regrets having left his own loved ones alone, and for years, in the nation that the other Andrei, Tarkovsky, associates with evil. Watching the film, we sense that one Andrei flows in and out of the other.
Incessant wetness (rain; dripping water), patient, subtle camera movements, mirrors and human reflections, church bells, bursts of Beethoven on the soundtrack: here is another of Tarkovsky’s poetic achievements that draws us into a highly subjective experience, as though it were very gradually submerging us in a dreamscape. Candles symbolize spiritual illumination (Tarkovsky is Orthodox Christian and devout), and a stunning scene of public immolation—it is Domenico who goes up in flames—symbolizes Gorèakov’s fierce desire to purge himself of guilt. Tarkovsky is mining his own soul.
Giuseppe Lanci lends magnificent, barely color cinematography.
Tags: Tarkovsky Grunes
This entry was posted on November 3, 2007 at 7:28 pm and is filed under Formal Capsule Film Comments. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.