The Sacrifice (1986)

I. Love. Tarkovsky. Seeing a Tarkovsky film is a very special occasion for me, bordering on some kind of religious ceremony. I find myself trying to define what makes a Tarkovsky film a Tarkovsky film. How does he do it, and why is the effect so powerful? The Sacrifice is another triumph for Tarkovsky, and the final one before his death in 1986.

In some ways, it's kind of different from the rest of Tarkovsky's work. Or, at least that's what I thought for the first half of the film. The film, while remaining sparse and atmospheric, Tarkovsky-esque for lack of a better word, contains a very coherent plot and is presented in a very linear manner. Naturally, things get far more dream-like as World War III is declared, Alexander has a dream, and things get, well, Tarkovsky-esque.

The film is a Swedish production, which excited me, since I'm a huge Bergman fan, and this would team Tarkovsky up with Erland Josephson and Sven Nykvist on Faro Island (which all makes a ton of sense if you know your Bergman). I know that Bergman was a great admirer of Tarkovsky's, writing in The Magic Lantern, "When film is not a document, it is a dream. That is why Tarkovsky is the greatest of them all. He moves with such naturalness in the room of dreams. " I believe Tarkovsky held Bergman in similarly high esteem, though I've yet to read his book, so I can't say for sure. I was wondering what influence all of Bergman's elements would have on Tarkovsky's film. Astonishingly enough, I forgot about all of it for most of the film. Yes, it's all Tarkovsky. Not to discredit Nykvist or anyone else in the crew, but a Tarkovsky film is always a Tarkovsky film, through and through. In some ways, it seems like a great pairing, Nykvist and Tarkovsky, as both like to use natural light in their breathtaking compositions.

The first scene is incredible. Alexander plants a tree with his son, Little Man, talking to him all the while, telling him stories. It's filmed from afar, the camera completely stationary. All of a sudden, the camera seemed to move slightly. The composition is so still that a slight movement would be jarring, but I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. I kept glancing at the edges of the frame, wondering if the camera was moving. Soon enough, I was proven right. The camera slowly pans to the left to follow Alexander, Little Man, and their friend and Postman, Otto, as they make their way to the house. The pan is extremely slow, as the characters are far away. The camera and the characters come closer to one another during their long trek, as details begin to emerge on the film, you finally get to see what these people look like.

Alexander loathes technology, clearly. He longs for the much simpler days, and with surroundings like Faro Island, who can blame him? Fear of change is a theme that The Sacrifice explores throughout, notably during Alexander's monologue about the garden in his old house and his younger sister's haircut. He prays to God for things to return back to the way they were before war broke out. The thing is, it's a war, so who really would want it in the first place?

In the film, Alexander arrives downstairs to find his family seemingly in a trance, staring at the television where it's just been announced that war has broken out. It's a hauntingly beautiful moment, as the camera slowly pans to reveal their faces one by one, the flicker of the screen creating bright flashes, capturing them all in time, frozen at this moment. Afterwards, we're shown something that seems shocking in a Tarkovsky film; strong outward emotion. Adelaide begins to go into hysterics as a result of the broadcast. Yet, this scene shows how all the different characters handle themselves, Victor attempts to take control and help Adelaide as Alexander silently contemplates it all, trying to figure out what to do and how to do it.

Afterwards, after praying to God, Alexander seems to have a horrifying dream and wakes up to find Otto outside his window, who tells him that he can redeem the world by sleeping with his housekeeper, whom he is convinced is a witch. The idea of this actually working, and Alexander actually believing that it would work, is completely absurd. Yet, he's willing to do anything to save the world, sacrifice whatever he must, and maybe he sees this as an opportunity from God himself. So, he decides to give it a shot, and naturally, things get really weird and, yes, Tarkovsky-esque.

Afterwards, it seems to have worked, as there is no mention of the war and things are seemingly back to normal. We start to wonder if it all really happened, was it merely a dream or did Alexander truly make a sacrifice and save the world? I really can't say much about the analysis and interpretation of the film, as it's so hard to comprehend, especially on the first viewing. What sacrifice did Alexander make, exactly? Was it sacrificing his morals, or was it something completely different, something deeper and far more spiritual? Nonetheless, the film ends on a very strong and powerful note, as Tarkovsky tries to inspire hope in the final moments of what he knew would be his final masterpiece.

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Included on Kino's disc is the fantastic documentary, Directed by Andrei Tarkovsky. It's fascinating to get a glimpse into Tarkovsky's creative process. The footage from the film and the set is punctuated by excerpts from Sculpting in Time. He's got some very interesting thoughts on what a film should be and what his own films are. Much like his films, it takes a while and repeat viewings to really digest his message. It's less of a behind-the-scenes-of-a-film piece, and more of a inside-the-mind-of-a-genius piece.

It's interesting to see Nykvist work with Tarkovsky, because it's so different from seeing him work with Bergman. Bergman will take a look to see what the shot looks like and let Sven do his work. Tarkovsky is very hand-on, though, always looking through the viewfinder, moving the camera around. Nothing against the Master, of course. I mean, if the result is as astonishing as what's seen in his films, he can do whatever he wants.

Edit: One moment I forgot to mention and keep forgetting to mention is Alexander's 'dream' about halfway through the film. It's right when the black-and-white film is used. Early on, there's a shot of someone's legs walking through the mud. And truth be told, it made me weepy. I have no idea why. It had no bearing on the film, and made no sense in the context of the part of the film it was in. Yet, still, watching it, I got tears in my eyes. This is the power of Tarkovsky.