A Vision of His Own

Andrei Tarkovsky’s Solaris is one of the most unique films I have ever witnessed. Not necessarily in terms of its tone or setting, as it bears striking similarities to Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey in these regards, but in its presentation. A common theme throughout reviews of Solaris (and Tarkovsky’s films in general), seems to be that it tries to put the viewer into a “meditative state” while watching it, emphasizing the experience from watching it rather than rapidly rushing through the plot. How does it accomplish this? The same way a meditative state is achieved in real life – through silence and patience.

The Sound of Silence

Solaris is filmed without virtually any background music, save for a couple of moments. This in particular is extraordinarily unique for films that I have watched, as most directors tend to use background soundtracks or ambiance as a crutch to hammer home the emotions that they are trying to portray on screen. Even the quiet scenes within Kubrick’s 2001 are not filmed in total silence – there will always be the sounds of the space station, a musical track, or some other bizarre noise in the background.  Solaris, however, revels in its ability to put the audience in a trance, depriving all sensory functions but sight from the viewer. (Ignore the “deleted scene” title of the video, as this was in film)

From the 0:40 mark, there is absolute silence throughout the entire footage of Berton’s flight. Not a word from the committee investigating Berton’s report, nor from Kelvin watching it many years later. Not even a cough or even a slight shuffling of movement.  No background music, nothing. Absolute silence. This is not isolated to the Berton’s flight scene, as a similar technique is repeated several times throughout Solaris. And each time it happened I was strangely mesmerized, simply by Tarkovsky’s decision to press the mute button. It is something I have never experienced before, and for that I grew to truly appreciate it.

Filler or Brillance?

As already noted earlier, “patience” is the other half of the equation Tarkovsky uses to send his audience into a meditative state. And, my word, does Solaris test the viewer’s patience. Tarkovsky has a running theme of stretching out shots throughout the film, as from the opening scene he spends the first couple minutes on nothing but shots of nature. And there is the infamous scene of Tarkovsky filming Berton driving for nearly five minutes, with seemingly no purpose to it at all. However, kogonada’s review offers an interesting perspective on this matter:

Kogonada points out that “he (Tarkovsky) will spend five minutes showing a man in an ordinary car traveling along the highway, and less than two minutes showing the main character traveling through space” in addition to “he will be occupied by the elemental things of Earth, which will be a theme throughout the film”. Each of these points are particularly enlightening, as they highlight Tarkovsky’s prioritized attention towards the simpler aspects of life, rather than the rapid-moving, more glamorous appeal of advancing technology such as space travel. This deliberate focus towards simplicity is essential to achieving Tarkovsky’s meditative state – as our patience and attention spans are too often diminished by films that feel the need to immediately transition from one scene to the next, never taking their time for fear of losing their audience’s interest.

Transcending Story

It may seem bizarre that I have spoken so little about the plot of Solaris itself. Its themes regarding spirituality and the human consciousness are fascinating, and are expertly explored throughout Miriam Jordan and Julian Jason Haladyn’s excellent essay, but those aren’t what stood out to me the most. Like Roger Ebert, I viewed it as “more like (an) environment than entertainment”, as a film designed to induce a state of mind rather than pose ethical or philosophical questions. I have often heard of films being praised for their ability to invoke an “experience”, but I had always dismissed them as lacking substance. Tarkovsky, however, has created a masterpiece in Solaris that truly does live up to that claim, and has accomplished this feat even better than the great Stanley Kubrick had attempted to do in 2001. Tarkovsky may not have the same name recognition as Kubrick, but he will forever be the true master of the “film experience”.