Andrei Tarkovsky's second feature offers an episodic, largely invented look at the life of a 15th century icon creator amidst an unsparing depiction of the oft brutal world in which he lived.
I was lucky to see this projected a year before COVID. The Bell had me absolutely spellbound and the color epilogue elicited an audible gasp from me. I didn't know much of anything about the film going into it which I think made the ending quite potent for me.
The movie has so much closing speed. It really does build toward its biggest and most important setpieces and pays them off with incredible grandeur and emotion.
It’s been almost exactly one decade since I caught a repertory screening of this. As I wrote at the time, it’s the kind of film that humbles and ennobles the viewer in equal measure.
For those who subscribe to the Criterion Channel, there is a lot of great supplemental material about Andrei Rublev, including a wonderful interview with the late film scholar Robert Bird.
I considered a quick rewatch of the film this afternoon, but I need time and an appropriately slowed-down but active mindset to experience this one. I’ve seen it years ago, perhaps twice.
I recall being awe-struck by some of the shots. Per my imperfect memory, there’s one wide shot with a group walking along the top of a high grassy incline, and much lower and far away on the screen’s far side, there are groups of people with other interactions. I found it hard to fathom all the coordination: how to prepare the people for this shot to do their thing from a far distance, how to get the timing of their movements correct to stay in the shot, the location scouting to find the perfect place for this and the timing of just the proper sunlight. In this scene, there is a level of “epic filmmaking” that brought me shivers.
Of course, there were aspects of the story I just did not understand in the historical context, but I was able to see the nature of the character’s relationships, which can be enough to maintain an interest in the film. It’s wonderful that we now have access to Wikipedia, or even the wicked A.I., which can help assist the viewer in understanding historical context, and even help the viewer understand the film’s connective tissue.
Separately, the view from the sky in the balloon in the prologue seemed similar to me to the beginning of Fellini’s 8 1/2. Are these some sort of dream-correlated imageries that we’re expected to refer to Freud for translation?
Anyways, I appreciate this monumental film came up, and your writing really encourages thoughtful reengagement with this Tarkovsky achievement.
Bless you for mentioning your Wikipedia pauses, Keith. I did the same, and now feel less shame for it. That impenetrability kept me from being able to get into this film.
I know this was posted nearly two months ago, and there's now little chance of much discussion about it, but I just watched Andrei Rublev for the first time.
I did not find it to be an easy watch. Some long movies go by quickly, this one does not. I found it hard to keep track of characters early on, and even later didn't recognize some of the characters who returned from earlier chapters. All of that said, wow, it's a strikingly beautiful film, and because what I feel are its strongest sections come near the end, the earlier chapters gained more appreciation from me for doing their part to build to the ending.
The scale and violence of the Raid were remarkable (I audibly gasped when the horse tumbled over the railing, a moment I'm sure taints the film for many viewers; my understanding is that some versions of the movie also include the same horse being stabbed with a spear, but the 186-minute version I watched cut that), but for me it is The Bell that I know will most stay with me. Nikolai Burlyayev was tremendous in Ivan's Childhood, and seeing him show up 2+ hours into this was really exciting for me, and then I was totally enthralled with that chapter. Knowing the consequences of something going wrong, I held my breath as they removed the clay from the bell after it was fired, and again when the bell was hoisted from the pit, and again as we waiting to learn if it would ring. And after everything went well, to still see Boriska lying in the mud, sobbing, was really moving, and THEN to see Rublev, without any real hesitation, break his years-long silence to comfort the boy, reinvigorated to create his own art once again, I found it to be one of the most powerful endings in cinematic history.
I was lucky to see this projected a year before COVID. The Bell had me absolutely spellbound and the color epilogue elicited an audible gasp from me. I didn't know much of anything about the film going into it which I think made the ending quite potent for me.
The movie has so much closing speed. It really does build toward its biggest and most important setpieces and pays them off with incredible grandeur and emotion.
It’s been almost exactly one decade since I caught a repertory screening of this. As I wrote at the time, it’s the kind of film that humbles and ennobles the viewer in equal measure.
For those who subscribe to the Criterion Channel, there is a lot of great supplemental material about Andrei Rublev, including a wonderful interview with the late film scholar Robert Bird.
I considered a quick rewatch of the film this afternoon, but I need time and an appropriately slowed-down but active mindset to experience this one. I’ve seen it years ago, perhaps twice.
I recall being awe-struck by some of the shots. Per my imperfect memory, there’s one wide shot with a group walking along the top of a high grassy incline, and much lower and far away on the screen’s far side, there are groups of people with other interactions. I found it hard to fathom all the coordination: how to prepare the people for this shot to do their thing from a far distance, how to get the timing of their movements correct to stay in the shot, the location scouting to find the perfect place for this and the timing of just the proper sunlight. In this scene, there is a level of “epic filmmaking” that brought me shivers.
Of course, there were aspects of the story I just did not understand in the historical context, but I was able to see the nature of the character’s relationships, which can be enough to maintain an interest in the film. It’s wonderful that we now have access to Wikipedia, or even the wicked A.I., which can help assist the viewer in understanding historical context, and even help the viewer understand the film’s connective tissue.
Separately, the view from the sky in the balloon in the prologue seemed similar to me to the beginning of Fellini’s 8 1/2. Are these some sort of dream-correlated imageries that we’re expected to refer to Freud for translation?
Anyways, I appreciate this monumental film came up, and your writing really encourages thoughtful reengagement with this Tarkovsky achievement.
Pardon me, Fellini’s “La dolce vita”, not 8 1/2, has the scene I referred to.
Bless you for mentioning your Wikipedia pauses, Keith. I did the same, and now feel less shame for it. That impenetrability kept me from being able to get into this film.
I know this was posted nearly two months ago, and there's now little chance of much discussion about it, but I just watched Andrei Rublev for the first time.
I did not find it to be an easy watch. Some long movies go by quickly, this one does not. I found it hard to keep track of characters early on, and even later didn't recognize some of the characters who returned from earlier chapters. All of that said, wow, it's a strikingly beautiful film, and because what I feel are its strongest sections come near the end, the earlier chapters gained more appreciation from me for doing their part to build to the ending.
The scale and violence of the Raid were remarkable (I audibly gasped when the horse tumbled over the railing, a moment I'm sure taints the film for many viewers; my understanding is that some versions of the movie also include the same horse being stabbed with a spear, but the 186-minute version I watched cut that), but for me it is The Bell that I know will most stay with me. Nikolai Burlyayev was tremendous in Ivan's Childhood, and seeing him show up 2+ hours into this was really exciting for me, and then I was totally enthralled with that chapter. Knowing the consequences of something going wrong, I held my breath as they removed the clay from the bell after it was fired, and again when the bell was hoisted from the pit, and again as we waiting to learn if it would ring. And after everything went well, to still see Boriska lying in the mud, sobbing, was really moving, and THEN to see Rublev, without any real hesitation, break his years-long silence to comfort the boy, reinvigorated to create his own art once again, I found it to be one of the most powerful endings in cinematic history.
Wonderful stuff.