Andrej Tarkovskij
Nostalghia

Especially in this (and Sacrifice affirms) it doesn't even appear as a comparison a hope for humanity's redemption from the utilitarian, inhumane market "buy three, pay for two," where instead there's the absurdity of "one book 3 euros, three books 10 euros," where that extra euro, which your misery perceives as deceitful after realizing the wordplay, is precisely the magical coin that allows entry into areas accessible to all but remain unseen, as we are busy frequenting various damnations.

The call to another place, which is present in all Andrej's films, is pure religiosity that addresses our inner God, our true master. And so, that Solaris island does not evoke a melancholy tied to material deprivation that makes you sad because you can't buy ice cream, but it is an alien feeling of "nostalgia" for the other world.

Domenico, a conscious millennial being, sees and in unbearable conscious suffering ends this torment by burning the "carriage," aware that we are not this body. The silent agony of the Russian finds relief shortly after by crossing with the candle the passage from here to there, where in the pool of Bagno Vignoni there's neither Charon nor Styx but an abandonment to transcendental joy: "it was beautiful, but it's no longer that."

I keep hearing buzzing that it's the least substantial of Tarkovsky's films, but what do we know, where in other films he showed us much invisible, here he deals with the invisible with the invisible, creating an inner temple (with the help of San Galgano) where perhaps things are completely different from how everything around us has psychically made us become, we don't have a "roof" over our heads here.

Exiling himself (from the USSR), along with his wife, was a decision made out of desperation, where the "comrades'" regime was tightening the belt to death. And this trauma of not being able to live humanly (he couldn't see his son for years) is liturgically transposed onto film, emphasizing "turn the other cheek," especially with the intimacy of ourselves.

It's not coincidental for me that it was shot in Italy, a country so decadent in its antiquity that it allows you to sway in the abyss of the serious and the facetious. And the appearance of Mediterranean frivolity that Tonino Guerra, his friend, presents him with by taking him around the mighty ruins of our peninsula in that documentary (Tempo di Viaggio) tied to the film, brings out Andrej's hidden maritime nature and the crust of salt and stardust sediment as a contribution to no longer being amazed in the face of eternity.

The dimes to cross the river unpunished have run out, the point of no return is conquered, all that remains is to drown in this eternal sea... outcasts surrender.

It is now time for the last to take the place of the first.