Mirror

9/10  - Directed by Andrei Tarkovsky - 1975 - 108 minutes

In finishing Andrei Tarkovsky's Mirror, I found myself in a rare moment of absolute speechlessness. It is the nonlinear nature of the narrative and the esoteric collage of dreamscapes and newsreels that continues to put me completely out of my depth. In Mirror, a film that is concluded by most to be Tarkovsky’s magnum opus, meaning is in every frame, but so personal to Tarkovsky and so singular to its time that the message is exceptionally difficult to draw out. 

What defines perfection in cinematography? In addition to any research of the technical aspects of shooting a film, I would insist that anybody with this question watch Mirror. Each shot is long. The takes fit together into a stream of consciousness as surreal as a living mind at work. The pans and tracking shots are uncannily smooth, camera work so perfect I imagine it can only be achieved with superhuman abilities. The dream sequences are interspersed into the protagonist, Aleksei’s, memories, often in sepia tones and often about his mother. As if the collage was not sufficiently complex and layered, Tarkovsky pulls newsreels and clips of the world’s surrounding chaos and cuts them in as they fit into the personal narrative. Footage of the Spanish civil war as loyalist neighbors of the protagonist consider their departure from Spain and clips of the Sino Soviet Border Conflict as a young Aleksei resides in a military camp during World War II. Mirror is as contemplative of a citizen’s place in the struggles of the world around them as it is introspective. 

The story presents some of the film’s triumphs, and also some of its admittedly few shortcomings. Perhaps I am too young, or too lacking in culture and historical understanding to grasp every aspect of this narrative. But in spite of the sweeping beauty of the film, there are times where the construction of the dreamscapes and nonlinear scattering of memory struggles to grasp my attention or my understanding. I’m confident that the dreamscape of Aleksei's mother’s struggles at work and the exceptionally odd sequence of Aleksei’s son’s recitation of Pushkin are poignant, but that impact is lost on me. At times, Tarkovsky’s unusual genius can alienate the viewer. Regardless, the brilliance of his writing comes through often enough to keep me fascinated. In my own view, Mirror is about regret and contemplation and personal failure. Aleksei, the protagonist who is on his deathbed, reflects on the difficult life of his mother and his failure to mend their relationship as well as his mistakes in his ended marriage and how he raised his child. 

Should anybody watch Mirror, I would recommend them to feel it more than anything else. It has no fixed meaning, nor any specific critical interpretation. Mirror is not only personal for Tarkovsky, it’s a film that can evoke powerful reflection.