Directed by:
Andrei Arsenyevich TarkovskyCinematography:
Vadim YusovComposer:
Vyacheslav OvchinnikovCast:
Anatoly Solonitsyn, Nikolay Grinko, Bolot Bejšenalijev, Nikolay Burlyaev, Jurij Nikulin, Ролан Анатольевич Быков, Dmitri Orlovsky, Mikhail Kononov (more)VOD (1)
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Director Andrei Tarkovsky's second film, ANDREI RUBLEV, is a massive and sweeping retelling of the life of the 15th-century Russian icon painter and perhaps the first great Russian artist. Unfolding in a free-flowing series of eight episodes, ANDREI RUBLEV follows the painter (Anatoli Solonitsyn) as he faces unbearable violence, endless attacks by the crude and malicious Tartars, and, eventually, a crippling crisis of faith. (official distributor synopsis)
(more)Reviews (6)
A breathtaking cinematic poem. Raw, stark, timeless. In some ways, its cinematic language reminds me of Vláčil's Markéta Lazarova. A classic of world cinema.
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I am not a fan of stories like this (and I honestly don't like the very similar Marketa Lazarova) and the only reason why I delved into several chapters of Eastern history was the rumor that this was Andrej Tarkovskij's masterpiece. That's why I welcomed the director's cut, which is a whole half hour longer, so that I could truly experience everything, and I still don't know if I made the right decision. I must admit that I mostly endured the first part. Life wisdom in the guise of a raw historical fresco is quite hard to swallow, and trying to grasp any passionate idea in every martyr's monologue just destroys me. What a surprise it was when the picture completely changed in the second part and the plot drew me in from the beginning, to the point where the Tatar raid became an unforgettable experience, for example. When I then enchantedly perceived the entire effort with the bell and its metaphorical resonance, I had the feeling that I had perhaps seen two different films stitched together under one title. However, the objections to the alienation and sometimes truly unbearable slowness remain, and considering that Solaris or the brilliant Stalker rely much more on imagination, I will still lean towards these later works.
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Andrei Rublev is very important to Soviet, or rather Russian, cinema in that it is a monumental (and very expensive) medieval fresco. It was supposed to be a confident symbol of the post-war rise of Soviet film, representing the same thing for the era of Khrushchev's leadership as Ivan the Terrible did for Stalin and his gang. However, Tarkovsky guided the film toward religious symbolism and mysticism. After all, he originally named his work Andrei's Passion. The regime struggled for eight years to deal with the film, until it finally pardoned it. Tarkovsky dedicated a lot of energy to creating a sense of authenticity - he aimed for a raw, naturalistic style and used rough, unprocessed materials. It is undoubtedly a monumental work of national cinema, which would be difficult to create today. For me, it is Tarkovsky's most digestible film, but it is still true that the famous several-minute-long shots can tire out anyone. For me, the film represents a sympathetic and attractive version of the Middle Ages. The 205-minute director's cut proves that Tarkovsky did not take the viewer into consideration. Overall impression: 80%.
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There are several simple reasons why I didn't like Andrei Rublev very much: 1) THE EMOTIONS: when in a 200 minute runtime there were only about 30 minutes that emotionally engaged me and made me sit firmly on my ass, I can’t be satisfied. 2) THE STORY: even though it’s extensive in time and narrative, rich in characters and period elements, formally it’s unbearably tedious, unnecessarily poetic and simply boring almost throughout. There are visible connections between the chapters and everything comes together to form a comprehensible whole, but Tarkovsky's interventions in the plot are often very insensitive, he only marginally introduces time jumps and the viewer often doesn't know what’s going on, or where and when. 3) THE MUSIC: while the uniquely bleak production design of the Czech film Markéta Lazarová relies heavily on a beautiful musical score, here this essential ingredient of all quality films is woefully absent (I regretted this especially in the final scene, where the enormous musical potential is revealed). What cannot be denied in terms of quality, however, is the polished, visually incredibly authentic and raw production design, which all great directors would have put behind them, and the historical verisimilitude in terms of the shape of secular life in the 15th century. But even that can't hide the sad fact that I endured most of the film rather resignedly and that I felt in completely different company than two weeks ago with the brilliant Stalker. 65%
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Reviewing Andrei Rublev was one of the most controversial decisions I dealt with after seeing a film. On the one hand, it is an incredibly drawn out film with a hugely excessive running time that could have been cut in half. On the other hand, you can sense a certain message and sweep from this work that few viewers can grasp (I'm in the larger group that saw the film and didn't get it). If I were to retell the plot, I would have considerable difficulty: Andrei Rublev, nature, the church, the paintings, the Tatars, the casting of the bell (which was the best part of the film), ... I guess I'm a film philistine, but I can't rate Andrei Rublev with a full score, and actually not even 4*, because if I put it all together in my head, I'd come out with something like 70%. In short, a film where I understand the high rating, but to which I can't bow.
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Soviet cinema isn't just communist propaganda, and Andrei Tarkovsky proves it better than many other creators. His films are very profound, and you can find many layers in them, including a leaning toward God, or rather the question of the place of faith in human life. A powerful film that surprisingly isn't as grandiose as it might seem at first glance.
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