☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆
Andrei Rublev (1969) -- A. Tarkvosky
Scenes from the life
of a fabled Russian icon painter in the early 15th century as projected into
mud, rain, fire, and even up into the air (in the opening sequence) by Andrei
Tarkovsky. The short squalid lives of
those living in this time seem authentically depicted and their horror and
sadness undoubtedly influence the monk/artist (or this is what we are meant to
believe). Rublev even gives up making
art (and speaking) because it seems pointless in a world so tragic, but he has
his faith (in art, not religion -- although the two are intertwined, presumably
for both Andrei's) restored through witnessing the fantastic rendering of a
huge silver bell, another piece of creative achievement. I saw a cut of about 180 minutes but longer
versions do exist; they all assuredly include scenes of a Tartar/Mongol
invasion, a pagan mayday-like nighttime ritual, an early balloon flight, a
minstrel's shenanigans, and lots of trudging trudging trudging and querying
querying querying. Tarkovsky is deeply
serious but his focus on detail and the intensity of his scrutiny are
transcendental indeed. It must have been
a magnificent campaign to mount it. This
may not be my favorite of his films but I give it 5 stars.
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