Andrej Tarkovskij
Stalker

«Two guys are accompanied by a man who calls himself the Stalker; it's unclear where they're going, then it all becomes something metaphysical... an extremely heavy film, but one that touched me deeply.»

This is how the film was introduced to me when I talked about Tarkovsky with what was my philosophy teacher and later my collaborator in the artistic field. The best film of the Russian director in question would be Stalker, according to him. Enthralled by the vision of Solaris, partly disappointed and partly fascinated by the incomprehensibility of The Mirror, my expectations for this film were quite high but not too high: I did not believe in fact that it would surpass Solaris, a film I greatly enjoyed for its engaging introspective science fiction and its singular subject. I was to be proven wrong.

The film begins with evocative music, a fusion between electronic and ethnic music in some way, which accompanies the incomprehensible opening credits (which, at least in my edition, remain in unreadable Cyrillic). Immediately it is noticeable that the images are "sepia-toned" and the pace of the story is decidedly slow. This is significantly accentuated by the directorial style, which in this case is particularly against cuts between shots, favoring long static shots or slow-moving takes over a shift in camera (it is enough to know that there are approximately one hundred and forty shot changes in a one hundred and sixty-minute film, and some of those one hundred and forty last over four minutes). We might also mention the general quantitative scarcity of close-ups and details. This is evident from the very first scene, which shows the Stalker (a peculiar character whose purpose is to illegally guide ordinary people to a forbidden place called the "Zone", where according to some, people can fulfill their most intimate desires once the mythical "Room" is found and the Zone's traps are overcome) in bed with his wife and daughter while the passage of a train makes a nearby table vibrate. When the Stalker then leaves the house to meet his next "clients", there is another scene with a fixed frame for several minutes, except for a barely perceptible zoom that takes the shot from wide to focused on the table where the Stalker and his two new companions are talking. The two guys are presented as the "Writer" and the "Professor", the former drunk from the start, skeptical and rebellious, the latter more composed, obedient, and respectful, at least initially. It follows a stealthy action scene, where the protagonists have to make their way through the city (in ruins and still sepia-toned) without being discovered by the authorities.

Upon arriving in the Zone (preceded by a long sequence where music blends with the sounds of the rails used by the three to travel, with an interesting use of subjective shots), the dominant sepia is replaced by a vivid panoramic shot of what seems to be a pristine natural landscape, certainly not too cheerful but at least colorful. Here some key concepts of the plot begin to be explained, and the (never seen) character of the Porcupine is introduced. No need to elaborate on complex explanations here. In the Zone, nature dominates; thus, the music parts and often the sound domain is left to long silences imbued with natural sounds dear to Tarkovsky. From the first sequences set in this surreal location, the personalities of the various men present emerge more clearly, especially through the attitude that the two civilians have towards the peaceful, prudent, and respectful Stalker.

In the Zone, one never goes back the same way as they came, nor can they go where they want by the most direct route. Therefore, the Stalker has the task of guiding even skeptical companions safely to the infamous Room. During the journey, between one sepia vision and another, the characters question their desires and existential and artistic themes. Interesting reflections are made on the nature of art and especially music, as well as a comparison between science and art carried out by the Professor and the Writer. The relationship with nature also plays an important role, as the Zone demands respect and imposes clear rules that must be followed, under pain of unpredictable and often deadly consequences.

In the second part of the film (like Solaris, Stalker is divided into two parts), after some further exploratory and contemplative sessions and a metaphysical pause centered on the soundtrack and some views of the Zone, in which we see civilization swallowed by omnipotent nature, the scene shifts to the infamous infernal tunnel known for being a scene of death for many visitors to the Zone. The plot at this point begins to thicken: if in Solaris (The Mirror cannot be talked about clarity) many questions were left open from the beginning of the film, with Stalker we begin to have major doubts only when, after overcoming the aforementioned tunnel, the trio arrives at the threshold of the Room's door. Here there are a series of events that are pointless to list, complicating the plot to the point where no one wants to enter the Room for different reasons and even the Professor wishes to destroy it with a bomb he brought along. The Stalker convinces him not to do so, thanks largely to his plea to not deprive him of the only thing he has left, thus no one understands anything anymore, and after a shot of a fish swimming next to the bomb and being wrapped in a kind of strange black slime seen before, the film's meaning becomes further complicated. We are indeed back in the city; it is unclear how the situation ended in the Zone, the Stalker leaves his companions and returns home with his wife and daughter, disappointed by their behavior. At this point, after he falls asleep, something quite perplexing happens: the woman starts talking directly to the camera and thus addresses the viewer, explaining some issues. Immediately after, the scene shifts to the girl, who recites a poem, then proceeds to move (at least it seems) some glasses telekinetically, causing one to fall off the table, which begins to vibrate as it did at the beginning of the film at the passing of a train, accompanied by Beethoven's Ode to Joy. And the film ends

Well, there is little to add. If you've come this far and haven't been excited, the film will likely bore you (but I would suggest watching it anyway because obviously, Tarkovsky's images are much more fascinating than my superficial words). Otherwise, run to watch it with no excuses!