So I first watched Andrei Rublev just a few months ago, meaning that unlike most of the other films I'm talking about in this series, this film is relatively new to me, and though I've revisited the film since then, keep in mind that as I talk about it, I'm talking about it with fresh eyes. The film itself is a three-hour medieval epic by Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky, about a painter in the 16th century as he struggles to maintain his faith in God in the face of all of the chaos and brutality around him. When I sat down to watch it, I didn't think that I would have the patience to make it through all three hours in a single sitting: after all, I had already seen Tarkovky's Solaris, and anyone who's seen that film will tell you that to call it "slow" is a massive understatement. However, by the time I was halfway through this movie, I was mesmerized. I was convinced that I was watching was one of the greatest films I had ever seen, and I was dying to see the second half. Now, of course not everyone who watches Andrei Rublev finds it nearly as enjoyable as I did. While researching the film, I happened to stumble across an essay written by a 14-year-old Alexandre Hontalas-Adams about her thoughts on the film. I think her confusion sums up many problems that audiences might have with this movie. As I've already mentioned, Andrei Rublev is long and slow, intellectual and cerebral, and despite its epic scale and immersive qualities, it's easy to lose track of what's going on. However, I believe that appreciating a film like this is a rewarding experience like no other, which is why I've written this analysis, so that maybe by sharing my perspective, I can help people enjoy the film more, whether they're seeing it for the first time or not.
As with most films, Andrei Rublev is best seen in a dark room on a large screen. Some movies are better when everyone's talking during the movie, but for this one, invite a small group of your quite friends. I do not recommend snacks, but if any food is to be eaten, I suggest some old flavorless bread and butter, Russian style. See the entire thing in one sitting. The film is divided into two halves, so take a break in the middle if necessary. Now that we're ready to face the film head on, it's time to make sense of the three hours in front of us. Fortunately, Andrei Rublev is already divided into eight different chapters, so that makes it a bit easier for us to piece together what's going on and what it means.
PROLOGUE
First, let's talk about the prologue, where we see a man take a brief flight in a rudimentary hot-air balloon. This is a scene which, to be quite truthful, has absolutely no immediate connection to what we see after this. None of the characters we see here are ever seen again. In fact, by the time you finish the movie, it's easy to forget that this scene is even in here, but once you remember, you can't help but notice how, on the surface, at least, it seems a bit out of place with the rest of the story. Tarkovsky wants you to notice this, it's the first of many nagging questions in the back of your head which is supposed to lead you back to the film, to force you to truly examine it: it is the white rabbit to lead you down the wormhole of interwoven symbols that make this film what it is. So we must ask ourselves, how is this scene connected to the rest of the film? Well, for one, it happens in the same time and place as the rest of the film, so on one level, the film operates as a means of introducing us to Andrei's world: a world of beauty and madness. From here, we can discover further connections on a deeper thematic level: the man in the balloon, like Andrei, is an artist of sorts, and more importantly, a visionary, overcoming impossible odds to achieve something awe-inspiring. This unidentified balloonist, along with the bell-maker at the end of the story, bookends Andrei's personal journey. The scene then, is less of a prologue and more of an overture: the broad scope of ideas the film deals with are condensed within these few brief minutes.
CHAPTER 1
JESTER
But if the balloonist was our introduction, leading us into Andrei's world, the jester firmly plants us in that world. This first chapter begins with our three main characters traveling through a field when they decide to head into a barn to take shelter from the rain. Considering they're all scruffy bearded men, these characters may be a bit hard to tell apart: it may help to know that Andrei is the shortest and youngest of the three, and he doesn't have much of a beard, so he's pretty easy to spot. Kirill is the cranky one, and Danill is the really tall one, and has a closer relationship with Andrei than Kirill does. As they sit in the barn, the three watch as a jester is arrested and savagely beaten by some soldiers, reinforcing the brutality and disorder of the time period. Andrei is here presented in contrast to the jester, and it is this contrast that forms the center of the narrative: a conflict between the sacred and the profane, between the pleasures of this world and the promise of the next.
CHAPTER 2
THEOPHANES THE GREEK
In the next segment, we see Kirill consult with the painter Theophanes the Greek. Theophanes invites Kirill to come paint for him, but Kirill, wanting to impress his friend, asks Theophanes to send a messenger to commission him publicly. His pride turns against him, of course, and when the messenger does come to his monastery, Andrei is invited instead. Danill is conflicted about leaving, and Andrei doesn't want to go without him. The next day, Kirill gets mad at everyone and leaves the monastery.
CHAPTER 3
THE PASSION OF ANDREI RUBLEV
In the third segment, Andrei speaks with Theophanes about faith and art. Here we see the theme of generations emerging: Andrei is bordered by the older generation, represented by Theophanes, and the younger generation, represented by his apprentice Foma. Theophanes holds a fairly pessimistic few of the world, while Andrei is more hopeful. Over the course of their conversation, we are shown what appears to be a reenactment of Christ's crucifixion, leading to one of the most emotionally powerful moments in the film. Now, this film focuses around spirituality and the divine in general, but more specifically it's about ideas inherent to the Christian faith, and even more specifically, Eastern Orthodoxy. One of the more distinctive features of this specific branch of Christianity is the veneration of icons. Andrei himself is an icon painter, so the concept of iconography is important to understanding both this scene and the film as a whole. For the Orthodox, a sacred image is never merely an image-- the symbols they use and the rituals they perform are not there to simply remind them of God; they are also there as a path to commune with God. There is something of Christ in every icon of Christ, and there is something of his body in every piece of communion bread. These peasants here know that they are watching a reenactment, and yet they believe that by watching it, they have a spiritual window into the past events which are being portrayed, which explains their strong, overwhelmed reactions to the performance. Here Andrei describes what he sees as Christ's basic purpose: to reconcile God and man, and it is this idea of reconciliation between separate and even opposing elements that comes to define the remainder of the film.
CHAPTER 4
FEAST
Earlier I spoke about a conflict between the sacred and the profane. Well, nowhere in the film is this conflict more apparent than in this chapter: 'feast'. Here, Andrei is traveling again, when he comes across a pagan ritual in the forest. He investigates, but they restrain him, thinking that because he is a Christian, he'll ruin all of their fun. While he's tied up, one of the women flirts with him while he voices his disapproval of their behavior. This encounter deeply affects Andrei. Here he sees the people that he is supposed to minister to, but he is so far removed from them that he doesn't know how to achieved that connection.
CHAPTER 5
THE LAST JUDGMENT
This internal struggle continues in the next chapter, where Andrei has been asked to paint a fresco of the Last Judgment. The images of hell and punishment that he has been asked to paint are associated with the pessimism of Theophanes, but Andrei, more optimistic, has seen the people that he wants to reach with his artwork, and is still searching for a better way to truly impact them beyond scaring them into submission. In a subsequent scene, Andrei, in a fit of rage, splatters paint on the wall, creating modern art. But like most modern art, it makes people sad and confused. The problem here is that this kind of artwork is art without an audience in mind: its sole purpose being to express the feeling of the artist. It is masturbatory, contradictory to the art Andrei aims to create. The woman who brings his attention to this is a Holy Fool (in Russian: yurodivy), a sane person who intentionally appears insane as a personal sacrifice to God. This character serves as a parallel to the pagan woman from earlier: she also embodies a mix between the profane and the sacred, but this time she's a part of Andrei's world. In observing her, Andrei makes the connection and discovers in her the redemption of the pagan woman, choosing to paint a fresco which details not condemnation, but celebration.
CHAPTER 6
RAID
While the first half of the film is comprised of five separate chapters, the second half of the film contains only three, the first being "Raid", which depicts the massive raid of the city of Vladimir conducted by the Grand Prince's younger brother and aided by the Tartars. This is undoubtedly the most massive, elaborate, and expensive scene in the whole film-- and for most audiences, this will be the scene that truly impacts them: a wrecking ball for the eyes and the mind. This, at least, is the effect this event has on the film's protagonist: Andrei witnesses the suffering and devastation around him caused by brother turning against brother (literally) and has a crisis of faith-- not faith in God, but faith in man. In an effort to save a woman from being raped, he has killed another man, and for this he cannot forgive himself. His struggle, for the remainder of the film, will be to regain his belief that man (himself especially) is capable of redemption.
CHAPTER 7
SILENCE
Thus ensues the penultimate chapter: "Silence". Compared to the length of the two chapters which precede and follow it, "Silence" is something of a short interlude: it is our glimpse into Andrei's life without hope. He speaks to no one and simply observes the world around him in dedication to his vow of silence. One thing that I noticed when re-watching the second half of Andrei Rublev was how much the climax of the film corresponds to the final events in the life of Christ. Earlier on in the film we have scattered references to events and figures that are connected to the liturgical week leading up to Christ's crucifixion-- Mary Magdalene, the overturning of the tables of the moneychangers, the triumphal entry, and so forth. But during the film's second half, more emphasis is placed on the metaphor. The raid is Andrei's spiritual crucifixion, and silence is the Saturday spent within the tomb.
CHAPTER 8
BELL
Thus, it is the film's final chapter "Bell" that marks Andrei's internal resurrection. Throughout all of Eastern Orthodoxy, bells play a crucial role in the Easter service; signaling the hour of Christ's resurrection. But bells have a much greater religion significance within the Russian Orthodox Church specifically. I mean, there's an entire Wikipedia article dedicated to the subject, which describes a variety of different uses that bells have within the church, namely, "summoning the faithful to services, expressing the triumphal joy of the Christian Church, announce important moments and events, and strengthening Christians in piety and faith." All right, I apologize for not using a more scholarly source on this one, I got lazy, okay? My point is, when you've got a film which takes place in Orthodox Russia, and the climax of that film centers around the construction of a bell, it's got to be taken into consideration that this is not just an enormous bell we're talking about here: this is a plot point of great symbolic significance, steeped in the cultural tradition of the film's historical context.
We watch as Andrei observes a young bell-maker attempt to construct a massive bell for the Grand Prince. This new character, introduced in the film's ninth inning, is important because like the balloonist at the film beginning, he bookends Andrei's journey, representing the younger generation of artists who will succeed him. He is no icon painter, but he has faith and passion in what he does, and this inspires Andrei. Andrei is further pressured to resume his work by the reappearance of characters such as Kirill and the jester, who we have not seen since the earlier chapters of the story. Of course, I won't reveal how the story ends, whether or not the construction of the bell is successful, or what is contained within the film's glorious epilogue, because although I've just gone through most of the film, I don't like spoiling everything and I think that these final moments are better enjoyed when you don't know what to expect. Furthermore, I believe that I've gone through enough material here to be able to wrap everything up with a cohesive conclusion about the film as a whole:
CONCLUSION
Andrei Rublev is a film about spirituality, but it's also about art-- you can't say that it's simply about one or the other. Andrei Tarkovsky himself is noted as saying that, "A true artistic image gives the beholder a simultaneous experience of the most complex, contradictory, sometimes even mutually exclusive feelings .... We cannot comprehend the totality of the universe, but the poetic image is able to express that totality."1 I think within this quote, we can find the answer to many of the questions that one might have about this film, because it explains not only how the film's artistic themes and spiritual themes fit together so perfectly, but also how they relate to Andrei's personal struggle and what he eventually learns. As I've said, Andrei's loses faith not in God, but in man, and in rejecting man he is without an audience, he has no voice, no one to communicate to-- his silence is more than simply literal. Without empathy for those he ministers to, he cannot effectively minister. "The test and proof of his empathy is in his tolerance and ability to love humanity as a whole."2 It is only when he is able to accept both the good and the bad extremes of human behavior that he is really able to resume his work. He must reconcile the differences between the lofty and the lowly and find a way to communicate with both-- this is an important message not only for artists, but also for the religious, and how the church fails to minister when it fails to empathize with the people it aims to reach, and instead reacts with authoritarian pressure. In fact, Andrei even makes a point of saying that reconciliation is in fact at the core of Christian doctrine: Christ being both god and man, the Trinity being three yet one, man being doomed yet saved. Separate elements existing in harmony in a way that can only be expressed through abstract thought-- a mode of thought which is scarcely achieved outside of the world of art.
It's important to note that this film was made at the height of the Soviet Union, and so the film, despite being an underground success among critics internationally, was banned in its home country for several years, because contrary to the Soviet agenda, it portrays the Orthodox faith as a crucial part of Russia's national history-- that yes, the church had problems, but it served as a pillar of stability in a time of turmoil. What this shows us is that as Tarkovsky wasn't just giving us a remarkably accurate portrayal of a medieval society, but he was also giving us a window into his own experiences working as an artist under an oppressive regime. The chaos of Andrei Rublev will remain relevant as long as humans continue to turn against each other, and as long as good and evil persist in this world, and like Andrei, we will see events around us that will challenge our ability to maintain hope. But beyond its enduring themes and its cultural significance, Andrei Rublev is a work of overwhelming beauty. It manages to tell the story of a life of a painter, and yet refrains from ever showing him working on a painting, choosing instead to search for significance in minor details. There are so many scenes and images which prove that if this were a novel, it could never achieve anywhere near the powerful effect that this film has. Just a few things to take into consideration. Anyways, thank you for your time, and I hope this video has helped you to be able to sit back, relax, and enjoy watching Andrei Rublev.
Sources:
1Tarkovsky, Andrei. Sculpting in Time. Faber and Faber, 1989.
2Savio D'Sa, Nigel. "Andrei Rublev: Religious Epiphany in Art". Journal of Religion and Film, vol. 3, no. 2, 1999.
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