Customer Reviews

Andrei Rublev (The Criterion Collection)

5 star:		(77)
4 star:		(11)
3 star:		(4)
2 star:		(1)
1 star:		(4)

 

 

Tarkovsky's Andre Rublev plows the same ground as Scorsese's Last Temptation of Christ, but with greater success. No, I haven't been smoking anything; I'm serious. A collection of metaphorically related vignettes that loosely follows the life of Russia's great medieval artist, Andrei Rublev is about nothing less than the struggle between mankind's spiritual and carnal natures. It is also one of the rare films featuring Christianity that neither belittles the faithful nor condescends to them. I'll take this film over The Robe, The Greatest Story Ever Told or even Ben Hur any day of the week.

All the same, this film is not typical wholesome family entertainment of the Disney variety. It's more like the cinematic equivalent of broccoli - you may or may not like the flavor, but it's good for you. There is nudity. There is violence. If you're an animal lover, it may give you nightmares (at least two horses and one cow probably died in the process of filming). But you know, the Bible itself is full of plenty of that kind of stuff. What makes it palatable is the moral context - the material is in service of an authentically moving spiritual journey. The film may not shy away from the ugliness of medieval Russian peasant life, but it also does not shy away from the message of redemption through grace - and I'm not referring to "grace" in an exclusively Christian context.

While grace wears Russian Orthodox garb in this film, the concept expands to occupy a more universal definition through the use of strong metaphorical imagery. Grace, it seems to suggest, is a state of mind: if you believe it is a gift from God, this film will probably affirm your faith; if not, it will won't offend you with overt evangelism.

The beauty of Andre Rublev is that, like life itself, it places its world before you in all its wonder and horror, and then lets you decide what to make of it. It strives to illuminate the human condition, rather than preach platitudes.

The best art has a way of doing that.

As for the DVD itself, Criterion has done a marvelous job of pulling together some rare documentary material, as well as enlisting the aid of Harvard film professor Vlada Petric in the creation of a somewhat dry, academic commentary track. My one complaint is that the transfer, while supposedly made digitally from a pristine 35mm print, lacks sharpness. It is also not anamorphic 16x9, which I consider an essential feature of any DVD of a film shot wider than 1.66:1.

All the same, Andre Rublev is an indispensable film for the serious cinephile's collection.

Tarkovksy's films are not for everyone. He is the Russian equivalent of Kubrick or Kurasawa or Welles, and he is as different from them as they are from each other. If you're expecting a conventional structure and pacing, you'll be dissapointed. Rublev requires patience.

Most people consider the film long and slow. The trick is to stop waiting for the narrative to develop and just experience the sequences as self-contained ideas. After a couple of hours you'll see it working up to something you hadn't thought possible at first. And by the two-hundred minute mark, it evolves into a complete emotional and cinematic experience.

I'm serious. It's amazing. *This* is Tarkovsky's gift.

By his own admission he was always more fascinated with the "poetry" of images than their immediate narrative value. As a result his films deliver an experience which is unique to every viewer. This is no mean feat; today directors strive to make the global audience feel "happy" or "sad" according to a pre-defined and market-oriented narrative structure. It's a cheap manipulation (like "Titanic" and the damn theme music).

Tarkovksy doesn't go there at all. He shows you something and lets you feel whatever you want. This isn't a cheap cop-out from an inept director, it's *your* experience. And a dangerous approach in a world where audiences expect to be cued when and how to react. Have you ever noticed how upset people get when left to their own emotional devices?

Tarkovsky has mastered the long-take, mise-en-scene, and the wide-screen (2.35) frame, and the Critereon transfer does it's best to present this. There are technical problems with the transfer, but having seen Rublev on a pan-and-scan VHS, the extra bucks are still worth it. And the additional resolution of DVD gives the image more texture and detail.

Side Note:

One of the tragedies (now being slowly rectified thanks to DVD) of modern cinema is the pan-and-scan VHS. Many lesser works can survive it ("Titanic" again!), but it has ruined almost every one of Tarkovsky's films. He composes very deliberate frames, balanced in a way that only wide-screen can accomodate ("The Sacrifice" was the exception, shot 1.66 I believe). The VHS transfers are claustrophobic and uncomfortable (showing only 60% of the image), but in their true aspect ratio his shots are spacious and carefully composed.

The accompanying materials (intervews and commentary) are interesting, but dryly presented by academics. A shame, since this is the type of film that Martin Scorcese could do a fantastic commentary for.

And be warned, there are moments of horrific violence and cruelty.

Since the Reagan administration came to power, the west has lost track of Eastern European cinema. It had (has) a style and direction as unique as the Japanese or British. Tarkovsky is one of it's gems, and no one who considers themselves a conoseur of film can go without a Tarkorvsky viewing.

My personal favourites are "Stalker", "My Name Is Ivan", and "The Sacrifice", and of course "Solaris" -- unfortunately the only one I've seen in it's Wide Aspect is "Sacrifice". But Tarkovsky is one of the greatest directors in history, and "Andrei Rublev" is still an amazing film.

Bye the way,

If you're not quite ready for the plunge into Tarkovsky, try the documentary "Andrei Tarkovsky Directs", which is an action packed account of the making of "The Sacrifice".

Andrei Rublev is not only one of the most difficult films to describe, it is also one of the most beautiful films ever made. It flows like a long Russian novel, with interworking subplots and interwoven themes. The rich fiction created by Konchalovsky and Tarkovsky, based on the late medieval Russian icon painter Andrei Rublev, raises many important questions concerning life, the soul, and art. Above all, there is something elegantly and radiantly lyrical about the film, scene by scene. The film itself is divided into vignettes, or what I like to refer to as chapters, recounting different periods in Rublev's life; each one could be its own film, namely the last section about the bell and the young bellmaker. However, the most poetic scenes involve the Holy Fool, or Durochka, played by Tarkovsky's wife Irma Raush. Her character adds a touchingly humorous, yet tender aspect to the film; her relationship with Rublev is so sweet and almost childlike, it brings a true smile to your face. Throughout the film, Tarkovsky is able to catch the incredibly earth-shattering expressions on the character's faces, symbolzing oppression from war and Tatar raids, poverty and inequality. One simple look of an eye speaks a thousand words in this film. The vignette entitled The Jester displays some of the most wonderful examples of the human condition ever in film; the beating rain on the primitive hut combined with the tired, worn out, wretched faces of the peasants (including children, men, women, and elderly), is so realistic you can taste it. Tarkovsky is indeed a modern master, and Andrei Rublev is quite possibly his masterpiece. Tarkovsky's work ranks with so many of the great modern artists, not filmmakers, but painters and photographers: Cartier-Bresson, Freud, Picasso, Matisse, O'Keefe, Stieglitz, etc. Anchoress, a film obviously influenced by Andrei Rublev, particularly in cinematography, is recommended also for anyone who enjoys intellectually and visually impressive cinema.

The first time I saw Andrei Rublev I fell asleep after the first fifteen minutes. The second time I saw it I stayed wide awake for the entire viewing. I was impressed by its visual grandeur and its message so much that it is one of the five best films that I have ever seen. It is one of the first films to convince me that that excellent films can be extremely challenging to watch. Despite some of the most disturbing scenes I have ever scene, I no longer view film as a diversion but as an exploration. It is atmospheric, heavenly, gothic, spooky, dreamy, frightening, and thought-provoking. The definitive 205-minute version released by Criterion does an excellent job in restoring some very important scenes which add to the flow of the film and make it easier to understand. I highly recommend it.

I have endured Tarkovsky's Andrei Rublev twice now - once on VHS and once on DVD (the 205-minute Criterion Collection version) - and I have yet to penetrate its ultimate secret. The film is audacious and - as many, many will say/have said - epic without the added difficulty of being ponderous. It might simply be that Tarkovsky was a poet and not an intellectual. His work has been mischievously compared with Godard's or Antonioni's but is completely different. The latter two magnificent gentlemen invariably speak to your intellect. Tarkovsky speaks to your soul. Russian (Slavic) soulfulness is legendary, but Tarkovsky is not nostalgic; nor is his work particularly "spiritual" in the usual sense - i.e. moralistic. Andrei Rublev is 1 000 times better than any of Bergman's films and I like Bergman without reservation. To fathom the immense elan of this film one must suspend the expectation for significance imparted to cinema by 10 000 lesser films. Tarkovsky manages something that only the most sublime works of art can "picture" - a panorama of self projected upon world and a complex, associative magic that is irreducible to verbal or critical formulae. Please see this film, if ever you have lamented the porridge poured over our heads by would-be auteurs in the name of cinema. The central conceit of a half-historic, half-fictionalized Russian icon painter of the 15th century wandering about in search of life itself will more than compensate for the cruel gruel of most contemporary filmmaking.

I write specifically about this Criterion DVD version of the film. The other cuts simply do not do the film justice. Some of the films most beautiful and most powerful shots are cut in half, and some of them are removed entirely in the 185 minute cut that is available on video. Although other cuts were endorsed, this is 204 minute version is how the film was originally meant to be seen, and I feel that it makes a big difference. The photography and pacing of this film is breathtaking. It is an epic in every sense of the word, but not at all in the sense of the traditional Hollywood notion of 'epic'. This is a fragmented, episodic story, where some of the episodes don't deal with the protagonist of the film at all. In some of them he is merely an observer, in others he is left out entirely. These scenes serve on a metaphorical level, not a physical one. Ultimately though, it all culminates to express the same basic thing: the need for the artist to trascend the earth, the natural world in order to reach something beyond to material, beyond the physical. And it is often about the artist's failure to do this.

I recommend alongside this, Jacques Rivette's film 'La Belle Noiseuse'. They are very different films, but they both deal with the same essential themes. And both are extremely important works of cinematic art.

This film seems to be one of those which no one I meet has heard of, and yet it is a masterpiece, a real masterpiece. It still surprises me to no end that I discovered it in a Blockbuster -- and if I hadn't seen it there, I probably would never have come upon it in my life.

As stated in the synopsis, the movie tells the story of the title 15th-century painter of icons and his struggle to accept his vocation in the face of the stupidity and savagery of his era. The structure is somewhat like Joyce's _Dubliners_ (except with greater narrative continuity) in that it consists of a series of episodes, each with a particular focus, and concludes with a piece that could stand alone as a very powerful short.

Beautiful, hypnotic imagery, and, as in all the great Russian writers, a profound love for Mother Russia, despite its harsh elemental forces, and an ultimate sympathy for its people who have had to endure so much for so long.

I think I have already summed up how I feel about this movie. Not everyone is inclined to agree. But I must say this movie has great character portrayals that can be applied to people from novels to real-life. The many groups represented in the film range from the nobility (a major social moving force as twin princes struggling for power), the religious (with the three main monks representing various attitudes toward religion), the pagans, and finally the artists. The 3 main monks are 1) the talented but confused Andrei Rublev, 2) the mediocre and self-righteous Kirill, and 3) the quiet and focused Danil. The artists Theophanes, Foma, and Boriska really keep the movie in focus just as a real art director of the movie would do. Their attitudes toward faith and art are what helps the viewer understand Rublev's own attitudes toward faith and art. Though Rublev is the main character, he is at many times in the background. The viewer is after all, meant to become Rublev, and therefore Rublev is less visual. Brilliant device by Tarkovsky!

In the end it is the characters of the "idiot girl" and the jester which cleverly help the viewer understand the some of the character and actions of Andrei Rublev. At one point in the movie, Rublev splatters paint on the wall as a sign of protest against the jealous prince who has ordered the blinding of some painters. Everyone around Andrei is baffled by his actions since he does not attempt to justify them. It is however the idiot girl who although lacks reason, has the insight to understand the violence depicted. The idiot girl after all sees the paint and mistakens it for blood and in doing so receives the correct message. The jester likewise, helps the viewer understand two things about Andrei Rublev's character. The first thing noted is that when the jester has part of his tongue cut out, he still does not waver in continuing his art of comedy. Andrei on the other hand, at one point stops painting and speaking, and as a result he willfully becomes more mute than the jester. Finally the second thing noted is that because Andrei has choosen to give up his art of painting, he has in essence become as lukewarm as his fellow monk Kiril. Andrei in fact resembles Kiril so much so, that the jester attacks him thinking he is Kiril (the monk responsible for denouncing him).

Movies like "Andrei Rublev" are rarely ever made. The director Tarkovsky was not called "the Poet of the Cinema" for nothing. His works such as "Andrei Rublev", were just that: poems. A poem like "Andrei Rublev" has lots of imagery used to convey some deeper meanings. Andrei Rublev appeals to scholars of the cinema and art technique as well as history buffs who want a social commentary along the lines of "Alexander Nevsky". But in the end, "Andrei Rublev" has a strong appeal to those who have strong religious convictions and struggle to match those convictions with their actions. The film is ultimately about individuals fulfilling their calling in life despite setbacks, be it due to social conflict or personal tragedy.

The movie is most rewarding when watched with the same patience and perseverance that one would have reading a novel by Dostoevsky. Even the opening scene of the flying balloon stimulates conversation as to its purpose and relation to the rest of the movie.

Finally, a great but often overlooked part of "Andrei Rublev" is its soundtrack. The soundtrack of "Andrei Rublev" like that of "Saving Private Ryan", is not explosive so as to be immediately ingrained in the viewer's mind (see Star Wars). The music instead sets the mood and tone of the movie. It does not distract the viewer from the visual poetry of the movie (for example there is the utmost silence during the slow-motion horse scene). So would Andrei Rublev be any different without a soundtrack? Yes it would. Even though the message of the movie would ultimately be the same, the possible religious experience drawn from it would be delayed by the lack of tone set by the music.

I cannot give this movie enough praise. It is a must-see for anyone who has strong religious convictions. "Andrei Rublev" is capable of not only stirring the depths of the soul but of also creating a predisposition and atmosphere for conversion. "Andrei Rublev" is by far my favorite movie of all time.

The DVD picture is great although the audio commentary could not be any drier. Still the restored scenes and extra Russian translations make up for it. Criterion on the whole does an excellent job transfering this movie to DVD.

Kirill says it best early in the movie: "Only with true insight can you grasp its essence".

Andrei Rublev is probably the greatest looking film of all time. It was shot on a Konvas (you can pick one up on Ebay for $1000) and film students will be stunned by what has been achieved in terms of cinematography with such an old and dated 35mm motion picture camera. It is inspirational in terms of film-making and this is the core reason why you should watch the film. If you are interested in Kino Art then Andrei Rublev can probably lay claim to the greatest art film ever made. If you are looking to experiment with Tarvoksky, then Andrei Rublev is not a bad place to start.

Like most of Tarkovsky's films, Andrei Rublev is extremely artistic, conjectures much on the human condition, metaphysics and Russian life - that all seem to have some hidden meanings that contains the film's truth that Tarkovsky expounds on - namely the wickedness of men and the temptations that they face. It is also about triumph of the will and the nature of man. This is all done via the "narrative" and the look of the film. Tarkovsky mixes moments of dialogue about the metaphysical (a doctrine that would continue to be a theme in all of this other films giving a sense of what was to come - especially the intricateness of Stalker, Solaris), arrestingly simple and slow cinematography (his trademark water shots), complex action sequences (there are full scale battles like from a Kurosawa movie) and visionary set designs (15th century villages, towns and cities). This is Tarkovsky's biggest film ever (and quite possibly the biggest Russian film ever).

The premise is complex. Andrei Rublev, a monk with the gift of painting, is invited to paint churches around the country and in Moscow. Between travelling from job to job he encounters - monks who have lost their faith, monks with too much faith in themselves, fools who are imprisoned for their beliefs, Wicca festivals (the pagan ceremonies of St. John's night), murder, torture (the Russian crucifixion), death, error, the sacking of towns by the Tartars (the sacking of Vladimir), vows of silence and of course the most striking final piece of the film - the making of the bell (the casting of the bell). Characters appear and disappear (a cinematic technique found in The Thin Red Line), but there is also a lot of hidden imagery (every time you watch it you find something new), in particular scenes of novice monks putting dirt on their cheeks which makes no sense at the time yet later on we seen Andrei put the same dirt as a stain on a church he has painted because of the bureaucratic blinding of artists (an extremely violent scene of which there are many. As a note: Andrei Rublev happens to be an extremely violent film and there are several disturbing scenes. Also a scene where a horse falls down a stairs was cut because of animal cruelty but this has been restored for the DVD). All of these scenes are done via several chapters that each tells a story in which Andrei Rublev is present either as the central character of focus, a participant or an observer. If you pay close attention to the chapters you will realize that the themes of each chapter are contained in all the chapters. Tarvoksky plays with the audience in so many ways that you can only hope to watch the film again and again until you make ALL of the connections. You will likely not see a more striking film for imagery. The ending is obviously what got Kubrick working on his trip scene in 2001. Tarkovsky returned a nod by filming Solaris.

Andrei Rublev is shot in monochrome although the ending does a little Wizard of Oz for us. The story is divided between two discs. You have 86 minutes in the first disc and 99 in the second for a grand running time of 185 minutes. This DVD is PRICEY but this is Kino Art at its finest and worth every penny. The extras are many and there are some very important historical interviews about Tarkovsky. However I will say that DVD is totally unsuitable for Tarkovsky's films and possibly you will do better to watch a widescreen video or even better a 35mm print of the film in the cinema next time it comes to town. Even though the transfer is sublime for a 1966 picture (a Russian one at that) and there has been a lot of digital correction, the DVD produces artefacts on nearly all of Tarkovsky's films because of his complex imagery, but this is just quibbling and is not the fault of the DVD producers. Tarkovsky has simply exceeded the limits of what DVD mpeg compression can handle, even after this film is spanned over 2 discs... and that says a lot about the quality of this man's vision.

Kino Art does not come much better than Andrei Rublev.

I have owned the Criterion edition of this film a long time; I recently bought the Ruscico (Russian Cinema Council) edition and think I should try to make clearer the differences. This is not a critique of Tarkovsky's work -- that is beyond my capabilities.

As you may already know, the Criterion edition is taken from Martin Scorsese's personal print and represents the penultimate version of the film, while the Ruscico edition represents the release version, which is about twenty minutes shorter. However, Tarkovsky did more than pare twenty minutes off the film -- it's actually a somewhat different film, though the differences are not major.

To begin with, the Scorsese print (Criterion) has a completely different set of credit titles and intertitles, and at that stage the film was titled "Strasty po Andreyu" (Passion of Andrei). The release version (Ruscico) is titled "Andrei Rublev" and is not merely shorter: it contains shots that do not appear in "Strasty po Andreyu" (Criterion). Commenting on the DVDs themselves, the Ruscico DVD is much better looking. The subtitles (as one might imagine) are written by someone whose native language is Russian, and that is very important to me. When the subtitles are written by an English-speaker they are rendered in English idioms and subtle, specific meanings are often lost. Sometimes one cannot even tell what a scene is about. (There is a scene in Criterion's "Ivanovo Detstvo", for example, where the English-written subs completely obscure the point of a scene, while the Russian-written English subs in Ruscico's version make it perfectly clear.) Russian-written English subtitles are sometimes ungrammatical, use idioms whose meanings are unclear to non-Russian speakers, and sometimes even inadvertantly use a word from yet another language (French, in one case that I saw), but I'll take subs written by someone whose native language is that of the film any day. In fact, if you see a version of any foreign film with English-written subs first, then see a version where the English subs were written in the film's country of origin, it will be like seeing a whole new film. (A spectacular example is the difference between Kino's "Zerkalo" [Mirror] and Ruscico's -- there is NO comparison [Ruscico wins!], except that you have to avoid Ruscico's 5.1 audio remix and select the original mono.)

Additionally, an extra of great interest is hidden away on Ruscico's "Andrei Rublev" DVD. In the individual filmographies certain titles are highlighted: these are accompanied by trailers, three of which are for Tarkovsky films. These trailers are made up largely of shots that are entirely different from anything that appeared in the final film, so should be of absorbing interest to any fan of his work.

To sum up: Although I prefer the long version represented on Criterion's disk ("Strasty po Andreyu"), the Ruscico disk has a superior image, better subtitles (to my way of thinking), and fascinating extras if you can find them. Get both DVDs.