Solaris (1972)
Director: Andrei Tarkovsky
Cinematographer: Vadim Yusov
Run-Time: 166 Minutes
Aspect Ratio: 2.35:1
Film Stock: 35mm Color Negative
Solaris, like my third favorite film The Mirror, is an extremely surreal and beautifully cinematic film made by the famous Soviet filmmaker Andrei Tarkovsky. Solaris is a story about an influential biologist who must travel to space to board a space station orbiting the planet Solaris which has been reported to cause crew members unexplained physical and emotional torment. The main protagonist Kris Kelvin is sent to this station to monitor the situation and report back when slowly he too becomes affected by Solaris’ unknown phenomena. Kris, like us the viewer, go on an adventure through time and space where we encounter problems of love, memory, and the problems that humanity must face and ultimately deal with. This film, like The Mirror, is one of Andrei Tarkovsky’s most famous and utilizes magnificent cinematography and voice-over narration to guide us toward understanding these different subjects that affect every human life. Solaris as a poetic cinematic film relies on cinematography to move the plot forward and drive characters toward their understanding of the situations they face. Andrei Tarkovsky uses his cinematic skills to craft one of the most beautiful and creative films ever made.
Andrei Tarkovsky had a relatively short film career, but every film he made has extreme value to the history of film as well as me, especially Solaris. This film is a gritty science-fiction that ponders love, loss, life, and the memory that holds all of it. Solaris is similar to The Mirror in that both films are great for a rainy day of self-isolation where one can truly connect with and grasp the importance of life and its counterpart. Andrei Tarkovsky in Solaris uses many long and slow pans or zooms that draw attention to specific characters as well as those characters’ faces and how emotions can be read from them. This is not a typical science-fiction film as it dives deeper into humanity and feelings than say a film like Star Wars. Solaris stokes the burning fire of a question that is “What is life?” as well as “What is its meaning?” Kris Kelvin is more interested the problems of humanity and his meaning in life than he is anything else, something truly admirable of this Soviet science-fiction’s main protagonist.
[Image: Tarkovsky, Andrei, director. Solaris. Criterion Collection, 1972].
I truly love this film because of how it covers certain ideas. This film, in a little over two and a half hours, explores humanity more deeply than almost any other film I’ve ever seen. The entirety of the film is based on one man’s journey through time and space, literally and metaphorically. The reality of this film is balanced by a sense of surrealism, something that Tarkovsky does better than almost any other filmmaker. One of Kris Kelvin’s most important focuses of this film is his deceased wife, Hari, who appears to him multiple times when aboard the space station orbiting Solaris. Hari is a representation of life, love, and memory, the three biggest factors of this film that are referred to constantly. One of the saddest parts of the entire film deals with these factors as Kris Kelvin decides to burn all photos and documents of his life on Earth before he departs for space. An image is shown of Hari’s face on a photograph laying atop the burning fire in the pit just outside Kris Kelvin’s countryside house. This is a beautiful and saddening time as Kris deals with his past while looking toward his future, into the stars, into space, toward Solaris.
[Image: Tarkovsky, Andrei, director. Solaris. Criterion Collection, 1972].
Another reason I truly love and appreciate this film is due to its formal, or informal, camera techniques and shot style/shot selection. Tarkovsky is a true auteur in his filmmaking, meaning that his authorship can be found on any film he makes. Solaris is no exception to this as the opening shot of the film is a long-take of a stream flowing fast over the tall grass that calls that stream its home. From the very beginning of the film there is a clear finger point to the viewer toward Tarkovsky that says “This is a Tarkovsky film and it will utilize all the familiar techniques of one”. Solaris is shot in a 2.35:1 aspect ratio, which basically means that its length is longer than its height, giving it a wide and expansive cinematic look that is only emphasized by the long takes, slow pans and zooms, as well as the composition of shots throughout the film. Solaris’ color is another aspect that makes it so visually pleasing. Different film stocks usually decide how a film looks, many Kodak film stocks that use color either lean toward a warm or cool hue, a greenish or pinkish tint, and a brighter or darker highlight and shadow level. The specific film stock used for Solaris is a traditional Soviet film stock that tints warmer, greener, and darker, giving the film a very out-there science-fiction look that really captures the beauty of a shambled space station that is only normal at face value. This entire films look and feel is something extremely special, something that only Tarkovsky could formulate and capture to perfection.
[Image: Tarkovsky, Andrei, director. Solaris. Criterion Collection, 1972].
I’ve only seen Solaris twice since I was first given a Blu-Ray copy of it as a gift. The very first time I watched it I felt moved beyond belief to get up and go outside and just wait for the stars to show themselves to me. The expanse and magnitude of this film is larger than life, larger than time and space can comprehend. I’ve found that this film is one of the most-lovely meditations on life, love, loss, and memory that I have ever seen, and most likely ever will see. There is nothing better than watching the slow and methodical camera movement along with the poetic narration overlaying the beautiful images in Solaris. I plan to watch Solaris many more times in my life, once again now so that I can write about it for this blog, but also so that I may more deeply understand Tarkovsky’s genius. Maybe one day I’ll make a film as great as Solaris, a meaningful and beautiful film that is known and understood mainly by film nerds.
[Image: Tarkovsky, Andrei, director. Solaris. Criterion Collection, 1972].
Finally, my favorite quote of the entire film:
Kris Kelvin – “See, I love you. But love is a feeling we can experience, but never explain.”
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