Reviewed 9/13/02ANDREI RUBLEV (1969) ****
Reviewed 9/13/02
ANDREI RUBLEV is so often cited as one of those great works of the cinematic canon that engaging it comes with an inevitable sense of onerous obligation, all the more so because it is a 3-1/2 hour movie about a 15th century Russian icon painter. How tedious does that sound? Then let it quickly be said that ANDREI RUBLEV is an elation on every level, both the technical and the emotional. As an apparent biopic (it is actually almost entirely fictional), the film is not a dry or languorous affair, some tiresome highlights of the man’s life, nor is it one of those Hollywood historical extravaganzas filled with theatrical performances and arch pageantry. The movie only requires a modicum of patience to adjust to the new setting of each of the movie’s many episodes (including a few un-cued flashbacks) and while the film is littered with Christian symbolism, it is not pertinent to one’s enjoyment to catch all of these.
The movie occurs in a prologue, seven chapters, and an epilogue, in some of which Rublev only appears in the periphery or not at all. At first, the different episodes seem to have nothing to do with one another, but most of the events depicted have major effects on Rublev’s life even if those effects are not made clear until much later in the film. Each section contains the following…
Prologue: A man named Yefim tries to escape from a hounding mob by riding a rudimentary hot air balloon, but he crashes to earth in Icarus fashion.
The Jester (year 1400): Orthodox monks Andrei (Anatoli Solonitsyn), Danil (Nikolai Grinko), and Kirill (Ivan Lapikov) take shelter from the rain with a group of villagers being entertained by a cheeky, bawdy jester (Rolan Bykov). Kirill steps outside, then Russian soldiers suddenly appear and violently haul off the jester without apparent cause.
Theophanes the Greek (1405-1406): Kirill agrees to the request of the great painter Theophanes (Nikolai Sergeyev) to aid him on Moscow’s Cathedral of the Annunciation, but when Theophanes later opts for Andrei’s help instead, Kirill throws a tantrum and storms out of the Andronikov Monastery. Andrei’s partner Danil decides not to accompany him to aid Theophanes, and Andrei takes the young and impertinent Foma (Mikhail Kononov). On their journey, Andrei has a reverie of Christ’s harrowing Crucifixion.
The Holiday (1408): Years later on the way to the city of Vladimir, Andrei, Danil, and Foma encounter a pagan ritual on a river bank. The pagans tie the admonishing Andrei up, but pagan Marfa (N. Snegina) kisses then frees him. The next morning soldiers ruthless hunt the pagans down and Andrei passively looks on as the naked Marfa tries to flee across the river. The effigy the pagans burnt the previous night flows by in the river.
The Last Judgment (1408): Andrei has stalled on painting the Vladimir cathedral for two months because he finds the subject of The Last Judgment a dubious one. He does not want religion to dwell on fear, but he also recalls a time when artisans who displeased the Grand Prince had their eyes put out. A dim-witted young girl, Durochka (Tarkovsky’s wife, Irma Raush) wanders in and inspires Andrei to paint a feast.
The Raid (1408): The treasonous twin brother (Yuri Nazarov) of the Grand Prince helps the Tatars invade Vladimir where they rape, torture, and massacre the townsfolk and even slaughter the animals. When one of the treasonous Russian soldiers attempts to rape Durochka, Andrei kills him. Devastated by his sin, Andrei imagines conversing with the late Theophanes, tells him he will never paint again, and makes a vow of silence.
The Charity (1412): Andrei is back at Andronikov Monastery where a returned Kirill pleas to be let back into the order. The Father Superior agrees so long as he takes as punishment copying the Scriptures fifteen times. When passing Tatars show up, they pick up the oblivious Durochka, who rides off with them gladly while Andrei looks on helplessly.
The Bell (1423-1424): The Grand Prince’s men are sent to fetch a bell-maker, but the Plague has claimed the life of every renowned bell-maker in the vicinity. Brash, youthful Boriska (Nikolai Burlyayev), son of one of the deceased, lies about knowing the secret to bell-making, and the soldiers reluctantly take him with them. Because he will be beheaded should the bell fail, Boriska hides his deep distraught while haughtily going through the process of digging a pit, finding the right clay, and fashioning a mold for the bell. When Boriska’s bell is a miraculous success, Andrei, who has been observing all the while, is inspired to break his silence and return to painting.
Prologue: The film transforms from black and white into color for eight minutes as the camera scans over Andrei Rublev’s real surviving, albeit now tattered works of art.
The Russian title is interestingly THE PASSION OF ANDREI, which could easily refer to Tarkovsky himself as well as Rublev. Like the film’s Rublev with his art, Tarkovsky underwent some arduous conditions to bring his most acclaimed movie to the screen. Preproduction began in 1961 even before IVAN’S CHILDHOOD, but filming didn’t start until 1964 when the story was given Soviet approval. When it was completed a year later, the government demanded cuts, and the movie was not released until 1969. In 1988 (Tarkovsky died in 1986), 20 minutes of cuts were restored giving the film a total running time of 205 minutes.
With ANDREI RUBLEV, Tarkovsky demonstrates his astonishing grasp of filmmaking technique already apparent in his first full-length feature, IVAN’S CHILDHOOD, and it is truly remarkable that something as fully realized and ambitious as ANDRE RUBLEV is only Tarkovsky’s second feature. Tarkovsky incorporates his standard long takes and fluid tracking shots, but they are so filled with activity that one does not notice that long stretches of the movie go without an edit. And the movie is one memorable set piece after another – the hot air balloon ride from the camera’s point of view, a horse rolling on its back in slow motion, the naked pagans streaming through the forest, the invasion of the Tatars, geese floating down toward a despondent crowd, the casting and then ringing of the bell. It is all enshrined within a startlingly compassionate view of humanity with a dose of humor. For those who do not believe this austere Russian master filmmaker could be funny, try not to laugh in scenes in which Andrei accidentally sets his leg on fire while watching a pagan couple having sex or a child throwing a tantrum beats on an adult trying to hold a normal conversation. Boriska’s scolding of his late father for not telling him the secret of bell-making is both funny and tragic.
Tarkovsky casts people as enigmatically complex, not paragons of good or evil. Some part of Tarkovsky clearly admires the way life is embraced by the irreverent jester, the indulgent pagans, and even the murderous Tatars. The Tatars display a joyfulness not possessed by any other character in the movie aside from Durochka when taking in simple pleasures. Tarkovsky shows disdain for the Christian persecution of the pagans by contrasting Rublev’s inactivity when Marfa is in peril with Marfa’s giving Rublev freedom when he is held captive. Honor takes a backseat to more recurrent feelings like cowardice and shame.
Horses play a large part in ANDREI RUBLEV’s iconography, and a lone horseman often appears on the horizon the way a train shows up in de Chirico’s paintings. ANDREI RUBLEV has a few scenes of graphic cruelty to animals, so animal-lovers should beware. The most potent one involves a wounded horse, blood gushing from its throat, crashing down from a wooden staircase, stumbling about in its death throes, followed by a Tatar warrior lancing it through the chest.
The movie’s only real flaw is the overbearing music that comes with the final segment covering Rublev’s real paintings. Otherwise ANDREI RUBLEV is an extraordinary rumination on art and spirituality during savage times.