Andrei Rublev (1966)
directed by
I knew a little about the cultural importance of Andrei Rublev, the 15th cent Russian icon painter from reading James Billington's cultural history of Russia, The Icon and Axe, but I had never heard of Tarkovsky's epic film until someone mentioned it online a few years ago.
It's not a real biographical movie. Little is known of Rublev's real-life or even which icons (save two) he definitively painted. Instead, as was Tarkovsky's intention, it recreates medieval Russia and portrays the struggle of creativity under oppressive circumstances. He also wanted to show Orthodox Christianity's central role in Russian history and culture.
Andrei Rublev is presented mostly in black and white, with a prologue, eight discrete sections spread over a twenty-year period, and an epilogue showing numerous icons attributed to Rublev. The icons, shown largely in close detail are in full color.
The opening sequence depicts a man attempting to launch a hot air balloon and fly, much to the fear of a crowd of people who try to stop him. It's meant to reflect the dreamer crushed by oppression. After that, we meet Rublev and two companions who have left the Andronikov Monastery to make their way as icon painters. As each new section unfolds, we see Rublev's evolution in regards to his art and Russia. We see him secure a position with Theophanes the Greek, a master painter, while years later we see him caught in the middle of a horrific Tatar raid on the city of Vladimir. Eventually, as an old man, he finds renewed inspiration from a young church bell caster. In between these sections, Rublev debates with colleagues (including the ghost of his teacher) on the purpose of painting icons, the intelligence of the Russian people, and the nature of Christ. Rublev also has an unsettling run-in with a band of pagans during a fertility ritual.
As a portrayal of Russia still partially under the Mongol yoke and the growing authoritarianism of Moscow, the movie is brutal. Boyars (nobles) imprison and torture those who mock them, innocent men are executed, artists blinded by jealous employers, and hundred raped and murdered by Tatars and their Russian allies. In particular, the Tatar attack is almost unbearable.
Rublev is torn over what purpose his art serves. For him, it should be loving and educative. One time he is instructed to paint the terrors from the Revelation, but refuses, as he doesn't believe Christ's message should be delivered through fear. When Rublev commits an act of violence, he rejects his talents and takes a vow of silence that lasts over a decade. Eventually, seeing the great joy and wonder brought about by another artisan's work, he returns.
The movie is beautiful. It makes magnificent use of some of the real locations, including the Andronikov Monastery and the Assumption Cathedral in Vladimir. The cinematography by Vadim Yusov seamlessly switches from quiet scenes to epic ones of violence and chaos. The balloonist's flight is especially fantastic. In the aftermath of the Tatar raid, where Rublev debates the ghost of Theophanes and the addle-minded Durochka braids a dead woman's hair, haunting and incredibly powerful.
As Rublev, Anatoly Solonitsyn is so good. His depiction of the monk's struggles, both interior, and exterior, is one of the more memorable performances I've seen recently. There's true dignity on display during the scenes where Rublev defends his beliefs, and the final scene with the bellmaker is one of great power.
Ivan Lapikov as the envious Kirill and Tarkovsky's wife Irma Raush as Durochka are both captivating. Nikolai Burlyayev as the bellmaker, Boriska, is fantastic.
This is a movie I will need to watch many more times before I think I will get everything Tarkovsky was doing. The Criterion Collection Bluray I own has several insightful documentaries and commentaries that provide some insight. There's also Tarkovsky's final student film, The Steamroller and the Violin, a beautiful and sweet story of the friendship between a steamroller driver and a 7-year old boy.
Verdict: Such an absolute keeper
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| Anatoly Solonitsyn |
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