Review: Andrei Rublev

For a film widely recognized as a cinematic masterpiece, Andrei Tarkovsky's Andrei Rublev failed to live up to its lofty expectations. The film follows the 15th century Russian monk and icon painter Andrei Rublev as he faces violence, political persecution and, eventually, a crisis of faith after leaving the monastery to paint a gothic cathedral's interior.

The violence, political persecution, and crisis of faith are evident throughout – but the movement from realism to transcendence was not so clear. In fact, besides the wonderful dialogue between the painter monk and other characters throughout the 3:25 minutes, coupled with striking cinematic photography, I fail to see where the divine can enter the conversation. Yes, the realism and human experience fits the transcendental definition outlined by Schrader, but the random execution and brutality of darkness fail to reach the divine and instead bathe in the depravity of human nature.

From Dreyer we were forced to understand human emotion encountering the divine. From Ozu we learned that sitting and breathing in the world around us can bring us into a reality we miss in our busy lives. And from Bresson we struggled with our freedom and learned to except what is given instead of taking what is desired. But what did we learn from Tarkovsky? I learned that sometimes long shots don’t bring transcendence, that a when a main character is missing from the story for too long it removes the element of continuity, and that violence sometimes is just violence.



I was praying for a Bresson montage during the violent scenes. Even Rocky had a montage! This may come to a surprise for those that know my favorites movies include Full Metal Jacket, The Killer, The Shining, and The Silence of the Lambs. But the long takes of death and pillage of war in Andrei Rublev was too much to bear at times. What was the point? War is evil? Okay, I get it. Thanks for opening my eyes, Tarkovsky. If this is what you choose to do with Bazin’s evolution of the image, I’d rather go visit Rublev’s iconography and find meaning in the stillness. Sweet, sweet stillness.