Andrei Rublev (1966)

Directed by: Andrei Tarkovsky | 205 minutes | biography, drama | Actors: Anatoliy Solonitsyn, Ian Lapikov, Nikolay Grinko

‘Andrei Rublev’ is almost unanimously praised by critics and viewers around the world. The Guardian has called ‘Rublev’ the best art house film of all time. The question is whether it is the best, but the description ‘arthouse film’ is understandable. The slow pace, the long takes, the emphasis on ideas and the loose structure make the film not immediately accessible to a large audience. Combine this with the very particular background of fifteenth century Russian history, the (to non-Russians) unknown central character Andrei Rublev (Anatoly Solonitsyn), an icon painter, and the running time of 3 hours and it is striking how universal the film is. is appreciated. The great craftsmanship of Tarkovsky has everything to do with this.

The beauty of many of the images, the elegance of the camera work, but also the intriguing compositions and elements in the shots, which usually never immediately show the ultimate goal of the scene or the characters in the picture, leave the viewer constantly searching for meaning. ; or simply enjoy the beauty on the screen. There is also a telling emotion hidden in almost every scene, which you can either let over you or try to place it in a broader context.

The latter is not always possible. At least, you can give different interpretations to a scene or chapter, but they can all be valid. Take the tantalizing beginning of the film, in which a huge, primitive-looking hot air balloon is rigged in front of a church, with many ropes attached and filmed from many beautiful points of view, which give an enriching new look at the entire balloon and always arouse curiosity. what’s around the corner, or above or below the balloon. We see how many men hold the thing and shout, while a man in a boat named Jefim is followed by a bunch of other men. Jefim docks, flees into the church, goes upstairs and jumps into the armor hanging under the balloon. He floats away, overjoyed to be free. But his happiness is short-lived because after a few hundred meters he crashes into a meadow. Who this man is – we hear nothing more about him in the rest of the film – and what the meaning of this scene is, is up to the viewer to decide for themselves.

Although there is quite a lot of cohesion in the following episodes of the film – ‘Andrei Rublev’ consists of eight chapters – several scenes behave like the opening of the film discussed above. This can be fascinating and, especially if the images are beautiful and the scenes themselves are interesting enough, shouldn’t be a problem at all. But the latter is not always the case. Or at least not right away. As a viewer, you also have to invest something in it. It helps if you’ve done some research beforehand, are interested in things like ethics, philosophy and religion, or happen to know a bit about the background; such as Russian history and certain ‘local’ sensitivities. In fact, this applies to all films by Andrei Tarkovsky. They are also usually films that are more than the sum of their parts and that take on more and more value in the minds of the viewer, afterwards and during the next viewing session.

These are films for which you have to do your best if you want to get everything (or enough) out of them. The meaning that the viewer gives to Tarkovsky films never seems to coincide completely with that of the director himself. The shots and scenes are so imbued with the filmmaker’s memories, vision, preferences and – personal and national – identity that something is always lost in the ‘translation’. This relates to the content, structure and form (length) of the scenes. On the one hand, this is unfortunate, but on the other it also gives the films something uncompromising and adventurous. As if the films let the viewer discover the gems himself, which sometimes just come over him and then are the result of thinking or research, as if the viewer were an explorer.

Back to ‘Andrei Rublev’, at first sight a fairly straightforward film about Rublev – certainly if you compare it with Tarkovsky’s much more abstract ‘Zerkalo’ – who goes to Moscow with a few befriended monks and painters, where he will to paint the decoration of the Annunciation Cathedral. Quite simply, this is what the film is about. But the most important thing is Rublev’s attitude, vision and mentality, which change throughout the film.

Everyone can see that Rublev has talent, but, as his friend Kirill (Ivan Lapikov) tells his later mentor and (indirect) client Theophanes the Greek, he still lacks the emotion, faith, soul and (life) experience to to create truly timeless art. The entire film can actually be seen as Rublev’s development to this moment and his doubt whether he will ever find the required dignity and humanity.

What makes this journey especially difficult are the atrocities that Rublev observes around him and the way in which he himself is influenced by this. Innocent people are beaten and mistreated for daring to criticize or joke about the ruling class, there is a brutal invasion of Tatars in uncharacteristically epic siege scenes reminiscent of Kurosawa’s work. In addition, he is seduced by a naked woman in the woods, which shakes his faith for a while. He also has several philosophical discussions, especially with Kirill and Theophanes, about the nature of man and his relationship to God.

It yields several interesting outpourings and ideas, inviting the viewer to take a stand. We see an interpretation of the passion – or the crucifixion of Jesus – but now in Russia and commented by Andrei and Theophanes. We see how Andrei deals with violent intruders who – among other things – assault an innocent, deaf-mute girl, how he becomes disillusioned, also in his own righteousness, and then declines a duty of silence.

Usually Andrei is not the central person in the individual chapters, or he is just a spectator. But all events do have an effect on his spiritual or moral development. In essence, it is not about him either, but about the feelings of the Russian people, and certainly the Russian Christians, in this turbulent period in Russian history.

From this point of view, the focus on a completely different character in the last episode is well placed. In it, a young clockmaker lies to save his own skin about ‘the secret’ of clockmaking that he supposedly received from his dying father. But just when he’s almost given up hope and doesn’t know how to complete his mission, he stumbles upon what he sees as the perfect clay for his giant clock. Rublev witnesses all this and is inspired as an artist – and as a person. Perhaps he can now believe in the power of… yes, of what? Of believe? Of individual perseverance? The will? Human resilience?

Here too, several interpretations are valid. As long as they (can) lead to the creation of valuable art, which adds something to people’s lives and makes us ask necessary questions about this life.

It is nice to be able to come to this realization as a viewer, and to be able to see everything in perspective. But even if this eventually succeeds, the question is whether three hours were needed for this narration. It has value that the viewer often witnesses important events and personal developments in real time; it makes the final apotheosis truer and more deserved. Still, it’s not improbable that a tighter edit would have produced just as much emotion and awareness, without the restless feeling that now occurs when viewing some scenes, or lighting less interesting characters. Sympathy for the characters and (Christian) ideas can also play a role in the appreciation of the film. Passages read aloud about why women have to wear veils, for example, or the rude way in which “enlightened” or sympathetic characters—including Rublev himself—sometimes interact with their fellow human beings can cause disinterest.

It’s a sin somewhere. At its core, ‘Andrei Rublev’ is an overwhelming film – both on a personal and historical level – that stirs up a lot of emotions and thoughts, but whose potential – at least during a first viewing session – is unfortunately not fully exploited. Because although the beauty of the images cannot be denied, the epilogue executed in color is not the sledgehammer it could have been. Who knows, the blow will come later…