Cliff Martinez
Solaris

Falling into another (im)possible time.
Thinking, getting emotional, crying, smiling. And crying again. Relieved. Aware that something imperceptible has changed us inside.

This happens when reading the novel by Lem Stanislaw. One of the cornerstone books of Western civilization. And it happens again in the visual interpretation proposed by Tarkovsky. A repeated wonder in the different version by Soderbergh. Thanks in large part to the music of Cliff Martinez. Creator of a hypnotic and blossoming sound flow. Ethereal. Enveloping. Emotional. Thanks to the sound produced by the Gamelan. Indonesian orchestral instrument. Thanks to the primary source of inspiration. György Ligeti, the ultrasensitive Hungarian pianist. Thanks to a rarefied and complete electronic. The ideal companion for a journey projected onto Solaris. A place with incomprehensible intelligence. A childish place open to our unconscious. From the first sleep. Until the waters of the river Lethe are consumed. Dissolved together with our guilt, pains, and fears. Until no scientist can say: We don't want other worlds, we want mirrors.
Then we will be free to redeem ourselves. To think in the other world. In the one perceived by watching or listening to this film.

"And death shall have no domain".
Dylan Thomas

p.s.: Stanislaw Law died on March 27, 2006. His books have sold more than 27 million copies and have been translated into more than 40 languages.