Produzido em 1966, Andrei Rublióv, segundo longa-metragem de Andrei Tarkovski, permaneceu censurado na União Soviética até 1971. Apesar disso, ganhou o prêmio da crítica internacional de Cannes em 1969. Encarregado de pintar as paredes da Catedral da Anunciação, no Kremlin, Andrei Rublióv trabalha sob a direção do mestre grego Teófano. Mas o conflito entre a espiritualidade e o mundo material surge quando Rublióv sai do mosteiro para trabalhar em outras cidades e percebe a degradação da humanidade. Tarkovski nos mostra a transformação de um jovem pintor idealista num monge que faz voto de silêncio em resposta ao sofrimento que o cerca. Ao final, a obra revela-se um manifesto a favor da esperança que traz a experiência espiritual pela arte. O Roteiro literário, pela primeira vez publicada no Brasil, tem episódios não incluídos no filme.
Andrei Arsenyevich Tarkovsky (Russian: Андрей Арсеньевич Тарковский) was a Soviet film director, writer and opera director. Tarkovksy is listed among the 100 most critically acclaimed filmmakers. He attained critical acclaim for directing such films as Andrei Rublev, Solaris and Stalker.
Tarkovsky also worked extensively as a screenwriter, film editor, film theorist, and theater director. He directed most of his films in the Soviet Union, with the exception of his last two films which were produced in Italy and Sweden. His films are characterized by Christian spirituality and metaphysical themes, extremely long takes, lack of conventional dramatic structure and plot, and memorable images of exceptional beauty.
A book that I let go to live wild and free long ago, at least more years ago than I can remember, which is probably not that many. It is not a script, nor a novelisation, it might be a treatment, but I think this book version came only after the film was made. I first saw a film version of Andrei Rublev some time after reading this, there are several versions of quite different lengths and I don't know which one this book version is closest too.
Andrei Rublev, I would say, is one of those films about making a film, or if you want to think about it more broadly it is about creativity and risk taking. The film is made up of incidents, not all of which feature the eponymous painter Andrei Rublev, but he appears in most of them, the penultimate sequence for instance is about casting a bronze bell and Rublev appears only at the end. The young bell maker has, possibly like the film director, been bluffing his way through the process of casting the bell.
I don't think this book will add or detract to watching the film, it just sits alongside it, but as we read a film differently to how we read a book, perhaps it allows us to focus on different elements.
This edition has reproductions of some stills from the film.
Cad doborâţi la pământ călăreţii, scânteiază în învălmăşala zăpuşitoare săbii încovoiate, şi-au zburlit perii din săgeţi tătăreşti prapurii, ce se pleacă, ai cnejilor. Cămăşi din pânză groasă de casă năclăite de sânge, capete rase străpunse de săgeţi, scuturi roşii sfărâmate cu bardele, un cal răsturnat pe spate zbătându-se cu pântecul sfârtecat. Praf, gemete, moarte. Iar atunci când ruşii nu mai pot ţine piept navalei călărimii vrăjmaşe, iese din pădure, cu iuţeala fulgerului neobositul regiment de ambuscada al lui Bobrok, zboară peste câmpie abia atingând pământul, se năpusteşte asupra tătarilor, îi împinge din spate, şi iată-l fugărindu-i acum prin câmpie… prapurii roşii flutură deasupra călăreţilor albi şi duşmanul înnebunit de spaimă cade la pământ cu cal cu tot într-un nor de praf… Câmpia Kulikovo presărată de leşuri cade ca într-un leşin în întunericul nopţii. Se crapă de ziuă. De-a lungul malului se aşterne ceaţa. În stepa tăcută acoperită de morţi, se iscă deodată tropot de copite. Drujinicul rus cu greu îşi deschide ochii. Pe câmp înaintează agale prin ceaţă un tătar călare pe o iapă neagră ca pana corbului. Rusul se ridică puţin, îşi adună puterile din urmă, caută în jurul său prin balta de sânge lunecos şi rece şi dă de un paloş părăsit, dar totul i se întunecă pe dinaintea ochilor şi pierzându-şi cunoştinţa, cade cu faţa în jos.
''Evil is everywhere. Someone will always sell you for thirty pieces of silver. New misfortunes constantly befall the peasant... either Tatars, or famine, or plague... and he still keeps on working... meekly bearing his cross. He does not despair. He is silent and patient. He only prays to God for enough strength. How could God not forgive him his ignorance?''
Andreiv Rublev charts the life of the great icon painter through a turbulent period of 15th Century Russian history...
Anatoli Solonitsyn: Andrei Rublyov
Putting Andrei Rublev into words, is no mere feat. This is a film that goes above and beyond anything any film-maker future, present or past has ever achieved. Andrei Rublev is a film that loses it's conventionality and transcends into pure, asphyxiated art. Andrei Rublev offers what every film-maker strives for: A look at why art exists? A story told in a medium that the majority will fail to comprehend, even some artists will be confused or fail to grasp the answers it delivers, but to those whom understand reap the rewards thus becoming moved by the unimaginable. The film captures not only the essence regarding the artist's purpose, but it captures truth regarding our personal existence.
The film begins with a short scene thus showing us a man attempting flight, failing and crashing back to Earth witnessed only by a horse. This scene alone shows us symbolism immediately if we choose to see it, the man representing the fall of all men or our need to become above other creatures, the horse representing life or loneliness and the barren countryside representing a world that is unfriendly to all men. This scene alone is up for multiple interpretations, many upon which, would be equally or essentially right. The film never tells you how to look at it, but allows you to bring your own philosophy, your own thoughts and of course your own justifications. Ultimately its basic themes are vivid, but many meanings remain as ambiguous as ever, countless viewings will bring more and more to the film's richness, and in truth it is perhaps impossible to fully fathom the meaning driving proceedings. As with all great art it must be experienced and made to relate to one personally to find its meaning, it cannot just be simply viewed and admired.
Rublev's personal artistic development is at best a secondary concern at times; the main concern is dealing with a world in which the exercise of power, whether by God or man, is unjust and arbitrary. Again and again, Tarkovsky presents the viewer with scenes of people being punished. Sometimes we know why: a jester is arrested for singing an obscene song about a boyar (and dropping his pants). Sometimes, we have no idea: the second act opens with a monk walking across a city square as a man in the background is tied to a rack. He protests his innocence, but we never know what he's innocent of. Tarkovsky has an eye for the way cruelty and power are exercised. You can see it in the bored faces of the guards in the first act as they smash the jester's face into a tree, or the false bonhomie a Tartar warlord maintains as he marches toward a city he will utterly destroy. Tarkovsky is also keenly aware of the ways the powerless console themselves, from Theophanes the Greek's nihilistic wish for apocalypse ("We'll burn like candles") to Rublev's withdrawal into asceticism. But then, growing up under Stalin would give anyone an unusually strong grasp of the way the powerful use cruelty, terror, and pain.
''In much wisdom, there is much sorrow.''
The vivid themes of the film blossom forth from ideas surrounding art, man's need for art and the artists scattered upon the pages of history. Andrei Rublev is a film that deals with both the futility of being a Christian artist in a Godless world, and with the impact art can have to bring God to a more personal level. These themes are developed in seven stages, each one differing immensely from the other, with the core ideas and the artist Rublev being shared in every one. Though these themes seem to centre around and deal exclusively with suffering, violence, religion, and routine, they are very implicit to every human being's lifestyle. Expressing Art can be used as an allegory for our gifts, the idea that we should not hide what we can offer the world, just as the artist should not hide his gift. Our gifts and talents can be used to glorify God and bring hope, even if the world shies away, despite the often felt futility of doing what we are gifted in, we bring goodness into the world simply by existing and our actions.
Ultimately the film offers this at its underlying core, however there are many more ideas, meanings and political paths the viewer may make. Through patience and connections the viewer can make the film into a personal venture and in doing so may become moved deeper than ever before. After all isn't this every artists wish? To capture the World, as well as being captured and enthralled by its beauty.
''...Then shall the dust return to the earth as it was and the spirit shall return unto God who gave it. "Vanity of vanities," saith the preacher; "All is vanity."
The movie, is a collection of incidents from the life of orthodox Christian icon painter Andrei Rublev. It is an existential movie pondering over the meaning of existence and what it means to achieve harmony and peace here on Earth and if at all that is an achievable aim or not.
In a strange way, its also a Karmic story of actions of individuals and societies coming back to haunt them. But in those moments of violence, there are many innocent victims too, who are pointed out and their existence used to raise doubt on the existence of a benevolent all loving God as father figure.
The answer to which, is given in a parable of sorts, of the very last section of the story. In the character of Boriska, we see the combined angst of humanity and the supposed answer to the indifference and silence of God the Father in face of all the evil and malice and in a sense, all trials and tribulations, Humanity faces on Earth.
Reading the script for Jacob's Ladder was revelatory in that it became apparent how the director saved a script that was brilliant but just a little too top-heavy in ambition. This script was revelatory in an entirely different way...the story is a bit different, a bit longer, but the prose is beautiful, and the spirit is beautiful, and I felt as if i were watching another filmed version of the movie. No matter the degree of difference, it all fit as an overlay across the movie, and made it more beautiful.
If you love this movie...well, you are missing out if you do not read this book. I give it four stars because here and there the prose is a bit heavy, a bit excessive in its lists of adjectives, but the next sentence always makes up for it. Its that most wonderful of things, a flawed masterpiece.
Though I'm not used to reading movie scripts, the experience didn't turn out that strange, as even the author rather described this work as a literary script. Both he and Rublev worked as visual artists, so the text is overloaded with descriptions of heavy imagery that require slow meditative reading in order to become pleasant, just as Tarkovsky's films require a particular kind of full attention.
The script evades the limitations imposed by film production and also hadn't been processed yet by the Soviet censorship program. These make the original work unique and worth a read since it allows better exposure of central ideas, especially the confrontation between contemporary ideals of beauty with human hopelessness, which cyclically interact during artistic practice.
This is one of the most rewarding films that one can ever see. It is not easy entertainment.
Andrei Tarkovsky does not deal with that. The movie is heavy with dialogue about religion, art, creation, Jesus, vanity, simplicity.
I have seen and posted a note on
- Solaris
For the Stalker I am still waiting. The first time that I have clashed with a Tarkovsky provocation it was seeing Stalker.
Some of it that is, because I fell asleep in the cinema. Which goes to proof how keen on challenging works I was.
In fact, I am still unable to get much, if anything from that film. And Nostalgia, which is another creation of Andrei Tarkovsky.
Andrei Rublev is more accessible. It is depressing for long periods, but an exceptional work.
Filmed in black and white, with the exception of a few minutes. The color in that passage is used to highlight the exquisite beauty and serenity of the icons painted by Andrei Rublev.
He was a fifteenth century painter of masterpieces. And even if I am not religious I am overwhelmed by them.
Indeed, the orthodox paintings have a modesty, serenity, eerie aspect that will touch even the profane. As opposed to the Renaissance, they do not show all the beauty of the human body.
The images in these orthodox churches are elongated, very thin and Saint like. Actually, most of the portraits represent saints. At one point, Feofan says:
- "In much wisdom there is much grief. And he who increases knowledge increases sorrow"
This reminds me of a quote from Dostoyevsky. I do not have the exact words, but I think the idea was something like this:
- I wish I were a fat woman who makes sausages and goes to church every day to light a candle and pray. - She is happy and knows she is going to heaven.
Dostoyevsky had been condemned to death and in the last minute he was pardoned. But he saw then how sublime life is.