Review of Solaris

Rarely does a film entrance me with the kind of atmosphere and ideas that Tarkovsky’s films do. He is the master of nostalgia, of the great struggles with reality and memory, of morality and selfishness. Can one escape a mistake from the past? How do you possibly learn from a mistake like that while simultaneously putting it behind you and out of your mind? At what point does tragedy lose its impact? In this film, Tarkovsky shows how real these memories can be for people, despite the decades that have passed. Dr. Kelvin is sent on a mission to go to the space station docked at the mysterious planetary object dubbed Solaris, which seems to be having peculiar effects on its inhabitants. Of the team sent there to research the planet's great oceans, only two remain. The rest have either left or succumbed to their ailments, tormented by apparitions conjured by Solaris. But not just any apparitions, these are personal ghosts of the individuals on-board the space station—in fact, the most personal. Kelvin, who never really got over his ex-girlfriend Hari’s suicide, now seems to have a chance to start anew, or at least find some sort of closure in this apparition… but what exactly is it? “It” knows that it is not Hari, that it looks and feels and talks and remembers just like Hari, but it is not human and cannot age and cannot die. There is a memorable scene where Kris Kelvin, stricken by a fever, begins to see Hari everywhere he looks. He cannot imagine ever leaving Hari, nor loving someone like he loves her now. But this is not Hari. Who is Hari? Did he love Hari? If Hari is dead, the only thing left of her is Kelvin’s memory of her, which is what this apparition seems to be… so is she not Hari? Is this apparition part of Kelvin himself? As Kelvin slowly becomes an island of a man, the film wraps up with what is one of the greatest closing shots I’ve seen, cementing itself as a true masterpiece that reveals the emotional and moral power of science fiction.