Stalker Reviews

Last night I watched Stalker, Tarkovsky's other sci-fi film (the first being Solaris) and the one that probably killed him (unbeknownst to the cast and crew, the area it was filmed was filled with toxic waste and, as a result, many of them, including Tarkovsky, ended up dying of cancer soon thereafter). Here's yet another DVD I'm sad I let sit on my shelf unwatched for so long.

Stalker is infamous for being "challenging" due it's long takes, slow pans, sparse and enigmatic dialog, and impenetrable symbolism (which Tarkovsky himself famously denied was intentional). It's been described by many critics as a meditation on faith and the lack thereof in our world of cynical secular modernity.

Certainly there is something to that considering the plot, a dangerous pilgrimage by three "wretched" souls seeking redemption at a place of miracles, but I'm not sure how much of this meditation really exists within the film itself. Because this arthouse style of filmmaking thrives on a less-is-more method of storytelling, we tend to imagine for ourselves far more going on than we are actually shown by the filmmakers. Is that really art, or is it just a placeholder for inserting our own assumptions, thoughts, and experiences?

But then it's more than a placeholder, it's a catalyst for thought - not just about figuring out the film, but also about figuring out oneself. In that way, I suppose it is a work of art, after all, but only insofar as one is willing to embrace it as such. Like another reviewer said, how much you take from Stalker depends mostly on how much you bring to it. Whether you find it boring and tedious or fascinating and captivating says as much about you as it does about the film.

Should art convey meaning in and of itself, or should it involve the audience in determining its meaning? I used to be a strong proponent of the former view. For the longest time modern art struck me as lazy precisely because it often seemed to demand more from the audience than than from the artist. But Stalker, in particular, is anything but lazy filmmaking. On the contrary, the scenes are clearly carefully and masterfully composed and edited. One might argue it's still lazy for an artist either leave unclear or purposely obscure the meaning of his or her work, but if the intention is to make one *think* rather than just *consume* (and Tarkovsky makes his disdain for the latter pretty clear in Writer's speech in Stalker) then isn't such obfuscation necessary? After all, a conclusion given to one is not nearly as powerful as a conclusion reached for oneself. In that case, the artist, like the stalker in the film, is there to guide travelers seeking revelation down the proper path, but it's the travelers themselves who must cross over the threshold of intense self-examination into revelation.

Philosophical wankery aside, Stalker is definitely worth seeing if you can give it your full attention for its three-hour run time. Even if the story leaves you cold, the cinematography and lighting are striking and beautiful, and the acting fantastic, especially from the man playing the eponymous Stalker.