It’s
much easier to respect Andrei Tarkovsky than it is to like him. My first
introduction to his filmography was Stalker,
a vaguely Soviet-period sci-fi philosophical road movie about three men and
their journey into a mystical, Area 51-esque underworld called The Zone. The Mirror, on the other hand, mostly keeps its feet firmly on the ground. A semi-autobiographical story, it has
a strong sense of historical place (Soviet Russia in the 40’s, 60’s and 70’s). It feels like the more accessible of the two films, despite its
complex, abstract nature, and it is a strange but chillingly beautiful movie.
The
friend with whom I saw the film said it came into being because Tarkovsky was
trying to exorcise his recurring dreams (he was successful.) It’s true, the story
feels like a vast, puzzling experience of catharsis, though relief is mingled
with the bittersweet dissatisfaction of loss.
The
main character is Alexei “Alyosha”, a thinly veiled representation of Tarkovsky
himself. Many of Alexei’s problems stem from his troubled past, and he (or the camera,
at least) goes back to several periods in his life, attempting to untangle
memory from truth. Tarkovsky’s tracking shots, moving slowly through the doors
of a house, have an entrancing quality, drawing us into a world which feels
four-dimensional, beckoning us inside a fully-realized, tangible space.

