Solaris (1972)

After Andrei Rublev and Stalker, I thought I might never take another chance on director Andrei Tarkovsky, especially with one of his long works (167 minutes). But since this piece was remade in the U.S. in 2002, it seemed to have more potential to appeal to my tastes. Besides, I was running low on Halloween-type options, and a sci-fi with someone appearing to come back from the dead, however unscarily, could fill the void.

Based on a Polish book, the film takes place mostly on a space station orbiting the titular planet. When some scientists go missing and another reports seeing a person whom their instruments do not detect, psychologist Kris Kelvin accepts an invitation to investigate. He finds the remaining researchers negligent, unhelpful, and bleak if not self-destructive. More importantly, he too sees people who shouldn't be there -- including his departed wife, Hari, who doesn't just appear but behaves lovingly toward him. Clearly, something external is causing the insanity, if that's the right word.

Sure enough, the facsimile of Hari provides the most interesting element. Whatever the reason for the power of Solaris replicating her, she doesn't act the way I'd expect a lure to act. She seems surprised to realize her mysterious history. She becomes...realer, more complete and less of a wish fulfillment. She even joins the pattern of self-destructiveness, albeit without permanent physical results due to Solaris' regenerative capacity. This is all in addition to the intrigue of how Kelvin reacts, caught between rekindled love and hatred of her impossibility.

If the theme reminds you a little of a Christopher Nolan flick, you're not alone. I suspect that Inception owes a little something to this film. Which, in turn, probably owes a little something to 2001: A Space Odyssey. (To bring in Interstellar is a stretch.)

Solaris certainly comes closer to 2001 in pacing, I'm afraid. Oh, there's a good amount of dialog (with a little German thrown into the Russian), so it doesn't all feel like stretched time, but it still could've been cut in half pretty easily.

Tarkovsky wasn't operating on quite as much of a shoestring budget as in Stalker this time. At least we get a set that looks unusual if not futuristic, with a convincing rocket launch sequence. There are moments of black and white interspersed within the fairly vibrant color; I'm not sure whether they serve as an artistic signal or just a cost-saving measure.

Still not my preferred fare, but I'll give it credit for striving to entertain as much as it seemed to brood. Maybe I'd appreciate it better after discussion with other viewers, who no doubt picked up on key details that I missed. Or after a second viewing, but I'm not likely to make time for that.