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CIAO DATE: 9/01
Social Sciences
Andrey Tarkovsky And The Traditions Of Russian Philosophy
Igor Evlampiev
To understand Andrey Tarkovsky's creative world, to perceive the profound meaning of his images one must first of all discard the idea that his films are "pure works of art", that their expressive imagery is spontaneous and self-sufficient. Tarkovsky is one of those artists with whom philosophy is the primary concern and who regard artistic imagery as the most acceptable and adequate means for giving shape to their profound intuitions as regards the essence and fates of Man in our far from perfect world, which, nonetheless, yearns perfection. In this sense Tarkovsky has inherited the best traditions both of Russian artistic culture and Russian philosophy.
All of Tarkovsky's work is imbued with ideas of Russian religious philosophy, especially in regard to the metaphysics of Man's being. In his very first film Ivan's Childhood we can trace the fundamental principles which constituted the ideological basis of his later films. And in his second film, The Passion of Andrey (which was shown in Russia under the title Andrey Rublyov) we find a cohesive philosophical world view that provides a key to the understanding of Tarkovsky's creative world. Unless we fathom out the philosophical underwork of this film, it would be extremely difficult to sort out the interweaving of recurrent themes and images that are also characteristic of Andrey Tarkosky's later productions.
The main theme of the film The Passion of Andrey, as well as of Tarkovsky entire work, is to reconsider the traditional stereotypes in the perception of the essence of Man's relationships with the world and his role in this world. Here we have a particularly clear manifestation of the continuity between Tarkovsky's work and Russian religious philosophy. Like Russian philosophers of the early 20th century, Tarkovsky rejects the view (still predominant in the various versions of the "scientific world outlook" of the 20th century – from Marxism to Positivism) that Man is just a tiny particle of the Universe, an insignificant element of it, which is distinguished only by the ability for rational thinking. For Tarkovsky, Man is, in the first place, an inalienable and integral part of being, fully merged with its other elements, and, in the second, the center of the Universe, its component part, which effects the cohesion of all other elements, through which the smallest elements of being get certain sense and add together to make a harmonious whole.
Man is the meaningful metaphysical center of the world. If the world had no such center, it would have no meaning or definite shape, and it would have neither its endless imperfections, nor beauty and opportunity for endless improvement. Man plays the role of a kind of "witness" of all that happens; by observing and accepting the event into his consciousness, by integrating it into the overall structure of his life, Man gives sense to this event and to being generally. Therefore it is not only active participation in the events that is of primary importance, but mere contemplation as well. which carries a "concern" ( in Heidegger's terminology) in regard to all that happens in the world. More than that, active participation is in no way superior to inactive contemplation. Activity makes a person concentrate on the actual happening and permits him to see and perceive only that which is involved in his activities, while the "scope" of being is left outside his attention and "concern". On the contrary, a "concerned" attitude towards the world, which avoids active interference in discrete phenomena, encompasses the entire "horizon" of the world and is capable, if correctly oriented, to perceive the meaning of every event (or, to be more precise, to attach meaning to every event) proceeding from the entire wealth of the world and life. This contraposition of activity, that purports to uncover new meanings in the world, and apparent passivity, which involves a profound acceptance of the world and revelation of all its endless meanings, constitutes the key line in the film The Passion of Andrey.
The former position, in its most radical and negative meaning, is embodied by the twin-brothers—Grand and Small Princes. But two "positive" personages – the flying peasant from "Prologue" and the bell-master Boriska -can also be included in this category. However the image of Boriska is equivocal. Although at first glance he appears to be the most striking example of the active position, there are aspects in his behavior which demonstrate the opposite attitude towards the world – that of inactive but deeply "concerned" contemplation (of this more further on). The second position is most strikingly represented in the film by Andrey Rublyov.
Critics have repeatedly pointed out that the image of Rublyov undergoes a radical and striking genesis in the course of the film's advance from script to the final version. In the script Rublyov was an active figure. In the film there is no trace left of this active stand. Even in situations when, it would seem, he is expected to undertake decisive actions, he continues to doubt and hesitate ( this is particularly apparent in the episode known as "The Last Judgement", when Andrey and his team of decorators prepare to start the painting of the interior of the cathedral in Vladimir). Most often he merely "fixes in his mind" all that happens around him, welding the meanings of the events into a certain wholeness, that "restores", as it were, the fullness of being, the integrated condition of the world, the ideal image of which is latent in the heart and mind of every person. And it is through this apparently passive, but, in reality, profoundly "concerned" contemplation of the world, through acceptance of its imperfections and its excellence that Rublyov arrives at a visual portrayal of this ideal – which is necessary to help all people to establish the right direction for their striving and endeavour. There is not a single scene in the film showing Rublyov at work, and this is no accident. The divine paintings which we are shown at the end of the film, represent the sum total of Rublyov's life, which was wholly dedicated to the observation of the world, to contemplative penetration into its essence, the silent comprehension of the meaning of every phenomenon in its relation to the prospective ideal fullness of being. And, in comparison to this major "work" of his life, all smaller matters, including the purely technical "execution" of artistic images in a material form appear as nothing more than minor details.
The Biblical phrase that concludes Tarkovsky's last film The Sacrifice – "In the beginning was the Word... " denotes one of the key principles of his entire work. By the Word he denotes the initial godly definition of the exact meaning of all things and phenomena taken in their divine form in the context of the ideal fullness of being. These meanings, this precious Word is what all of Tarkovsky's heroes try to express in torment and doubt. And pride of place among them belongs to Andrey Rublyov himself. He attempts to pronounce the Word, which would reveal the initial meaning of being and show us the way to returning to an ideal condition. The search for this Word and its component parts constituted the content of Andrey's life. Even his silence was, was, in fact, the focussing, the spiritual concentration, of which, finally, was born the soundless Word of his creative flight.
The very term "The Word" emphasizes the non-active character of the act of discovering the primary meanings of the world. Action, as a rule, distorts the meaning of things, it can only be fruitful if the world has achieved lucidity and if all its contents have been disclosed. Only in this case Man's action may become not an unreasoning impulse, which destroys the few remaining elements of integrity and fullness, but a precise and "caring" correction of the imperfections of being. Such action must be minimal, almost unnoticeable, since its purpose is not to disturb being, but to be realized in it as its own strength, which nurtures the seeds of its harmony from within. Therefore, however "minimal" it is, realization of it is overwhelmingly complicated and requires preliminary efforts to perceive the meaning of being and to elucidate it. A person very rarely succeeds, at least once in his life, to effect such an action, to carve his own "furrow" in being, that would set off "crystallization" of the seeds of world harmony. One must spend his whole life peering at the world in order to finally initiate an absolutely rational action, which would help to transform the world and the people. In The Passion of Andrey we find two expressive examples and universal forms of such rational action: one is the creative quest of a true artist, and the other is the tragic act of self-sacrifice, which is symbolized in the scene of Calvary.
All of Tarkovsky's heroes appear to be passive observers and not men of action. But every film there finds its culmination in an action, which may not appear spectacular, but which adds a new, absolute meaning to the world and helps it to emerge from chaos into harmony, even if only in a limited sphere. It is demonstrated in a particularly graphic way in the final scenes of Solaris, where the hero, through agonizing doubt and hesitancy, through gradually discarding the "natural" active position, arrives at the longed for contact with meaningfulness in the absurd space which is governed by the irrational reason of the planet Solaris.
At first glance, the most radical examples of this "penetrating" activity are presented in Tarkovsky's two latest films: these are the self-immolation of Domenico in Nostalgia and the burning of his house by Alexander in The Sacrifice. But if we take a close look, we cannot but notice that these are merely "doubles" of really meaningful actions, such as do not appear equally vivid in the visual aspect, but carry the meaning sought by the heroes. After all, the self-immolation of Domenico is but a "prelude" to that most important action, which he has proved incapable of accomplishing and with which he entrusts Andrey Gorchakov —the carrying of the candle through the pool \?\. The same twin character is to be found in The Sacrifice, for here, too, the burning of his house by Alexander is but the fulfillment of the pledge he has given to "higher powers" to sacrifice that which he holds dearest if the world is saved. He fulfills this promise after the world is saved, but the very salvation became possible by force of an action that remained unnoticed and unknown to the people, as the result of the "magical" liaison between Alexander and the servant-girl Maria.
In Tarkovsky's most mature films – Mirror and Stalker, the long path of cognition of the world, of observing it and listening to it, ends in the paradoxical "anti-action"—refusal to commit that action which, it would seem, ought to have been the logical conclusion of the path traversed. In Stalker the heroes refuse to enter "the Room of Wishes", realizing the responsibility they would be assuming for the action they had wanted to accomplish and which, essentially, would be at variance with the path they have trodden tilll the threshold of this room. In Mirror, the hero arrives at the truth about himself through recollecting, and this process ends in his death, the total "non-action"; but the understanding he acquired in his travels through time proves really absolute, capable of overcoming time and death.
2
A most important episode in the film The Passion of Andrey is the conversation that Andrey holds in the ruins of the cathedral in Vladimir with the "ghost" of Theophanes the Greek, the conversation that concludes the episode "The Raid", which is replete with events, images and symbols. Here is revealed yet another aspect of Tarkovsky's world philosophy – his concepts of a person's death and immortality. According to Tarkovsky, a person exists not only in the dimension of Time, but also in the dimension of Eternity, and this second dimension is revealed in critical "life-and-death" situations. This is what happens to Andrey after the Tatar invasion. His tormented soul, wracked not only by the infamy and cruelty he observes all around, but also by his own sin and his own guilt acquires the ability to "open" the dimension of Eternity and to summon from the "eternal" being the dead Theophanes the Greek.
Tarkovsky intentionally presents the Greek in his earthly image, which does not differ from his appearance during lifetime or from the appearance of people around him. Theophanes, like Andrey, is involved in being, but this being has a complicated structure and consists of different strata, which are impenetrable for one another but capable, on occasions, to influence one another. Man is the metaphysical center of all being and so, potentially, has access to all "strata" of being, and it is on his will and his condition that the possibility for these layers to penetrate one another depends. "I wanted to see you so much," says Andrey to Theophanes. And the latter answers, "Even if you had not wanted it, I would have come all the same." So the appearance of a messenger from the other world, from the world of Eternity, depends not so much on Andrey's conscious wish or unwillingness, as on his condition. After having been forced to kill a Tatar warrior, Andrey acquires the ability to penetrate other spheres and to bring their messengers into our world, ruled by Time.
"Didn't you go to Paradise?" asks Andrey. "O God!" answers Theophanes, " I can only say that things there are quite different from what you all imagine." This answer holds the key to their conversation and to an understanding of Tarkovsky's concepts of death and deathlessness. We can also trace the source of these concepts – the philosophical views of Dostoyevsky. Coincidence between the views of these two great Russian artists becomes obvious if we reconstruct the entire complex of Dostoyevsky's notions about immortality.
One of the clearest and most frankly stated principles in Dostoyevsky's world outlook is his conviction that "without belief in one's own soul and its immortality, a parson's life is unnatural, meaningless and unbearable... the idea of immortality is life itself, living life, its final formula and principal source of truth and correct thinking for mankind". 1 Dostoyevsky's idea of immortality is not identical with the Christian conception of after-death existence in the Paradise. The most important aspect of the latter is a radical contrast between the existence on earth and in Paradise—in the sense that life in Paradise is conceived as absolute perfection, devoid of all demerits of earthly existence and, hence, as something unquestionably good, lucid and attractive for man. On the contrary, Dostoyevsky's characters, despite their unquestioned faith in immortality, fear the posthumous existence because for them it is unclear and mysterious.
The meaning of the posthumous existence is most clearly explained by Svidrigailov in his chats with Raskolnikov. A person's posthumous existence differs radically in its metaphysical laws from our earthly existence, but it is by no means perfect; in fact, it is as imperfect as the latter. Svidrigailov asserts that there are multitudes of worlds in Eternity which exist parallel with our world and are able to penetrate it through dreams and spectres. Death is transition from being in one world to being in another, "neighbouring" world. Clearly, such a transition has little in common with the Christian view of the soul's immortality in its condition in Paradise. Svidrigailov gives a paradoxically harsh definition of his idea of posthumous existence in the following words: "Eternity is always presented to us as an idea impossible to grasp, something enormous, enormous. But why should it necessarily be enormous? Imagine, instead, that it will be one little room, something like a bath-house in the country, black with soot, with spiders in every corner, and such is the whole of Eternity. I sometimes imagine it like that, you know." 2
It is possible that Tarkovsky remembered this very phrase of Svidrigailov's when he put into Theophanes's mouth the words that "things there are quite different from what you all imagine". Like with Dostoyevsky, immortality for Tarkovsky is not at all identical to Man's "paradisiacal" condition, which is free of all imperfection of this world and is transformed into a purely spiritual, divine form. The world beyond death is very unlike our own, and it is very likely that we shall become more perfect in it ("I know everything as it is," says Theophanes to Andrey from his eternal being), but it does not mean that we shall arrive at absolute perfection (like any human, Theophanes, returning from after-death, is glad that he remembers the Holy Scriptures, that is, he admits the possibility of forgetting it). With particular clarity the unity in imperfection of "the world of Time" and "the world of Eternity" finds expression in the fact that Theophanes is capable of admiring earthly beauty created by Andrey Rublyov in his pictures. "This is really beautiful," says Theophanes, thus denying us the possibility of regarding his after-death existence as divine, "paradisiacal", absolutely perfect; otherwise, from the point of view of divine beauty, creations of earthly art should not have evoked any feelings in him. The imperfection of "after-death" existence signifies that we cannot live in the hope of future felicity; in the other, "after-death" existence, like in the present one, we shall have to fight for our own perfection and the perfection of the world.
When Svidrigailov speaks about illness that makes it possible for man to see "snatches" of other worlds, most probably he means not the usual bodily illness of a human organism, but a mental illness connected with contradictions of Man's inner essence. This very illness brushes with its wing Andrey Rublyov, who has killed a man. A person who has perpetrated an evil deed, especially the extreme form of evil—murder – succumbs to a metaphysical illness; it is his very being that is ill, since he has destroyed its very foundation – the invisible ties between all people, without which they cannot exist.
Andrey commits murder not by evil intent – he kills a rapist, thus preventing an evil deed. Nonetheless he has an awareness of his absolute guilt, which he will never atone for. His friend and teacher appears before him and helps him to overcome his illness, to restore his ties with people and to create a foundation for subsequent life. Coming, as he does, from the "World of Eternity" Theophanes helps Andrey to preserve his faith in the fundamental principle of goodness and the life-giving unity of all people, which, formerly, Andrey defended in an argument with Theophanes when the latter was still alive, and which he has now come to doubt. "You are wrong now," says Theophanes, "and I was wrong then", thus confirming Andrey's rightness in their previous argument from the vantage-point of his after-death "eternal" knowledge. Theophanes is right only in his assertion of universal guilt of all people. Now, after committing a murder, Andrey become fully conscious of his guilt, and Theophanes confirms that this guilt can never be expiated from the point of view of men's earthly community. "God will forgive you," he says, "but don't you forgive yourself. Go on living between the great forgiveness and your own torment."
The realization of the bitter truth about inexpiable guilt of every one of us helps Andrey to see that only path that leads mankind to perfection. It is only possible to overcome the world's imperfections through fighting the sources of evil in himself; the supreme purpose of every man should be not opposition to the external evil will, but expiation of his own guilt. Each must become aware of his absolute metaphysical guilt in the face of the people and the world and to attempt to expiate it. And the less the people are aware of a person's concrete empirical guilt, the greater importance is to be attached to his act of atonement. And although nobody knows and will ever find out about Andrey's guilt, for there were no witness to the murder, Andrey dedicates all his life to the need to expiate . Hence his fifteen years' pledge to silence, hence his creative upsurge.
The greatest example of redemption – of all people, of the entire world was provided by the least sinful man of all – Jesus Christ. The image of Christ on the road to Calvary is central in Tarkovsky's film. Its initial title—The Passion of Andrey— sends us back to the the Gospel. Tarkovsky attempted to give his understanding of the meaning of the self-sacrifice made by Jesus. Understanding of this great sacrifice is arrived at through the entire life of the great Russian artist Andrey Rublyov, through the lives of the people he meets. Here again we discover the continuity of Tarkovsky's ideas in regard to the ideas of Russian philosophers of the early 20th century (Nikolai Berdyayev, Ivan Ilyin, Leo Karsavin and others), for whom the story of Jesus Christ was the most important example of our common fate in this world.
3
Man is able to overcome the imperfection of world being through love and through contemplative "gathering" of the world into himself, through concentration of an individual's spiritual strength. The insufficiency and relativity of this form of transformation consists in the fact that it does not remove the source of imperfection – Man's inherent duality and his striving for egoistical isolation and domination over being. Therein consists the metaphysical guilt which attaches to every person, since this duality and striving for domination never completely disappears in any one of us and may, consequently, manifest itself at some point of life in the shape of evil. Really radical and, most important, irreversible progress to perfection is only possible through such an action by Man which can overcome to a considerable degree, or, at least, compensate for the above-mentioned metaphysical guilt. Man must conquer his own dark nature in himself and commit an action, which is opposite to his striving for isolation and domination; he must choose freely full subjection to being, to the world.
But what does full subjection to the world imply? After all, the world is far from perfect and is full of evil; every one of us spends his entire life defending himself from the world, from its attempts to "subject" every person. The invasion of the world into the inner man is the cause of all suffering, and the fullness of Man's subjection to the world, in which his detachment from being disappears completely, is death. So the most radical advance towards subjection of himself to the world and, through it, overcoming the imperfections of being in its very source, can be made through free choice of suffering and death, through sacrifice of oneself to the people and the world.
Sufferings and death, which lie in store for every one of us, present a visual confirmation of our metaphysical guilt and impossibility to eliminate its causes. But when man chooses suffering and death of his own free will, by admitting his metaphysical guilt, he makes its causes phantasmal, illusive and transient, because he demonstrates absolute superiority of his of his positive freedom, aimed at consolidating the foundations of people's being, over negative freedom. Voluntary sacrifice of himself to the world always leads to people's unification and "correction" of being, to emergence of an absolute center that emanates beneficent rays, that light up and unite all particles of being.
This very role was played by the self-sacrifice of Jesus Christ, which is therefore a fundamental metaphysical action, which laid the foundations of a radical improvement and transformation of all being. It was thus that Russian religious philosophy of the late 19th and early 20th century interpreted the story of Christ. Here is what Vladimir Solovyov wrote in this connection: "... Jesus Christ certainly did not come to this world in order to enrich mundane life with a few new ceremonies. He came to save the world. Through his death and resurrection, he saved the World in principle, in its root, in its center, but to spread this salvation to all of human and secular life, to effect the beginning of the salvation of our entire reality – this He cannot accomplish alone, for this he needs the help of all mankind, for nobody can be saved by force, without his knowledge and consent. True salvation is re-birth, or new birth, and a new birth presupposes the death of the previous false life... " 3 Mankind, according to Solovyov, must become aware that it is actually God-mankind, that every one of us and all of us together are called upon to continue and develop that cause which Christ initiated and the purpose of which is complete transformation of our world – till all suffering and death disappear, together with their sources in Man's negative freedom.
The interpretation of Calvary in Tarkovsky's film fully corresponds to this understanding of Christ self-sacrifice. In the dispute between Theophanes the Greek and Andrey Rublyov, in the context of which emerges the vision of Russian Calvary, we find the characteristic opposition of the stands of the two disputing artists, the contrast between their "interpretations" of the story of Christ. Theophanes the Greek is fully aware of universal sinfulness and absolute guilt of all people without exception. He therefore asserts that people's suffering and death, like the imperfection of the world are insurmountable, and even the Last Judgement, which signifies the destruction of all that is sinful in the world, appears to him as final and absolute suffering, which will expiate people's absolute guilt. "Never mind, the Last Judgement is near," he says, "we shall all burn like candles." Nobody and nothing can save the world from sin and imperfection, the fate of the world is complete annihilation, final ruin. Therefore Man must accept passively and uncomplainingly all sufferings that are meted out to him, hoping for nothing, and seeing God only as a severe Judge, and not as a merciful Father.
So it is no accident that in the film the appearance of Theophanes the Greek is preceded by an episode depicting a cruel execution of some person, a villain, as Theophanes the Greek calls him. In his view, this kind of non-voluntary and deserved martyrdom is the natural result and outcome of Man's sin and guilt. "Well, good people, truth-lovers and Christians," Theophanes shouts to the crowd watching the execution, "how long are you going to torture the villain? When are you going to put an end to him? With his torment he has atoned seven-fold for all sins —his own and yours, too. You're wretched sinners yourselves, and yet to take it upon yourselves to judge him. Calling yourselves Christians, too!" Mind you, what Theophanes protests about is that the executioners have exceeded the right measure of torment in expiation of the guilt, thereby committing a sin themselves and acquiring new guilt. When Theophenes shouts his concluding rebuke – "Calling yourselves Christians, too!" an icon painted by him is shown on the screen. From the icon the Savior glowers as a stern judge, who sees all people as guilty and worthy of torment and punishment.
Another important thing: when the man to be executed is first laid on the rack, he keeps protesting that he is innocent. We do not know if this is true, whether the man is really 'a villain" or whether he is innocent, but in the context of the subsequent argument between Theophanes and Andrey this execution proves to be a visual presentation of Theophanes' views on the meaning of martyrdom of Jesus Christ. For him, Christ suffered like all others – not voluntarily but because of the ill will of his executioners, who are sure that he is a villain because they have found witnesses who confirm it. Theophanes does not seem to believe that Christ's martyrdom changed anything in this world; he thinks that people keep committing sins and are not likely to ever stop. The crucifixion of Christ in this context has only one meaning: it is the most radical sin of mankind, the final proof of its ineradicable guilt, ineradicable and unforgivable. This crucifixion has fully revealed the world's imperfections; after it the world has been finally and irrevocably condemned and damned, and all that remains is the Last Judgement, which will be retribution for all sins and bring complete destruction of the earthly nature of man and earthly being.
In sharp contrast to this understanding of Calvary is the profound and completely unorthodox meaning of the theme of Christ's self-sacrifice presented in the vision of Russian Calvary, as it appears to the imagination of Andrey Rublyov. Tarkovsky treats the idea of voluntary self-sacrifice offered by Jesus Christ to the people and the world almost on the plane of the paradox. His Andrey Rublyov asserts that not only Christ loved all people, including his executioners, but that those who crucified Him also loved Him because He gave them a chance "to aid in a deed pleasing to the Lord". The procession that accompanies Jesus Christ to Calvary consists, in Andrey's vision, exclusively of common country folk – men, women and children, that is, of innocent and harmless people. It is they who lead Christ and help him carry his cross, and only at the last moment, when it is time to nail Him up to the cross, two armed riders appear, who look like troopers of the Grand Prince. Especially expressive is the image of the little girl who stands by the roadside and smiles broadly at Christ as he walks up to the cross intended for Him. This girl seems to be aware of the blessed and transforming nature of the event, which is under way and through which hope for final salvation from evil and imperfection will radiate the world.
According to the testimony of the film's director of photography Yusov, 4 Tarkovsky had intended the procession to be accompanied by angels clad in white peasant sheepskins, which made their presence, against the uniform whiteness of the snow, ghostly and improbable. Little has been left of this intention in the final variant of the film. But if you look closely, you will notice that now and again a strange figure in white flits across the screen. Particularly striking is the figure suggesting an angel with drooping wings, which stands behind the cross at the moment when Christ lies down onto it. This image is in full concord with analogous fragmentary scenes episodes occurring in Tarkovsky's films. A particularly clear parallel is presented by the scene in the ruins of the cathedral, when Theophanes's spectre appears before Andrey. Christ's martyrdom is a radical metaphysical "event", which has significance for all reality, binding together all spheres of being, in particular "the World of Time" and "the World of Eternity". For this reason, not only people who were Christ's neighbours on earth must take part in this event, but also "angels", denizens of "the World of Eternity".
The main difference between Tarkovsky's concepts and the canonical tradition consists in the fact that his Andrey Rublyov apparently viewed Jesus Christ not as God (and not as God-Man) but as a common human. Remembering this, we shall understand correctly his odd reasoning, which, at first glance, contains obvious contradictions. "You spoke of Jesus to me," Andrey says to Theophanes. "But He was probably born and crucified for this very purpose – to make peace between God and Man. Jesus is of God, and that means he is omnipotent, and, if he died on the cross, then such was God's design. His crucifixion and death were the work of God's hands and were supposed to cause hatred not in those who crucified Him, but in those who loved Him, if they had surrounded Him at that minute, for they loved Him as a man, and He left them of His own will, thereby inflicting injustice and even cruelty... Perhaps those who crucified Him loved Him because he gave them a chance to aid in a deed pleasing to Lord."
This last sentence in the context of what Andrey said before, sounds almost as a sacrilege, because one imagines that Rublyov meant Pharisees and scribes, the executioners of the historical Christ, whom Andrey mentioned a few moments before. In actual fact, Andrey, having paused a while, radically changed the meaning of these last words, which now apply directly to Russian Calvary presented on the screen. The previous words referred to Jesus Christ of the Gospel and reproduced the canonical Christian interpretation of His self-sacrifice, which Andrey cannot and will not accept, since it presents Christ's sacrifice as a kind of "game" which God played with people. If Jesus is God and omnipotent, his crucifixion appears as a self-sacrifice and has a profoundly tragic meaning for the people only as long as they are "deceived" in regard to its nature. On learning that He is God, that he has been resurrected not as Man but as God, moreover, that he knew of his resurrection beforehand, people must come to hate Christ, because his resurrection ultimately means that there will be no resurrection for people, in their earthly being. Christ's sacrifice thus becomes testimony of a forthcoming negation of men's earthly nature, and not its transformation.
Here we come up against the same problem that I mentioned above in connection with Dostoyevsky's concept of immortality. Like for Dostoyevsky, for Tarkovsky Jesus is a man and merely a man; only in this case can his martyrdom, his death and resurrection be taken as evidence of immortality of an earthly man, of his earthly corporeal nature, as evidence of the possibility of transformation of Man's earthly nature.
Naturally, the historical Andrey Rublyov could not have reached the stage of openly denying the godly nature of Christ; yet his innovatory religious outlook, that drew God and Man closer together, already contained premises for that interpretation of Christianity which became the norm in the 19th and 20th centuries. In this sense, in ascribing to his hero non-dogmatic views, Tarkovsky did not really distort Rublyov's image to any considerable degree; he simply gave him a different interpretation in the context of his own concepts, which are certainly consonant with Russian hesychiasm, which flourished in the 15th century and became interwoven, as an organic element, into the texture of Russian culture.
Within the framework of the world view held by Andrey Rublyov in Tarkovsky's film, it is only possible to speak of Jesus as God inasmuch as He, by His self-sacrifice and His resurrection, changed the world partially, setting up thereby an absolute center from which transformation must spread to all being, must make it perfect and wholly godlike. Jesus on his way to Calvary is merely a man; but, having gone through Calvary and presented an example to others, to those who, like him, will traverse this path of voluntary self-sacrifice, martyrdom, death and resurrection, he becomes God – in unity with all people and their transformed being. This was also how Vladimir Solovyov understood Jesus Christ's story. Significantly, he found the source of such an understanding in Dostoyevsky. Possibly, the same influence caused the appearance of Russian Calvary in Tarkovsky's film and his interpretation of Christ's self-sacrifice we have been discussing.
Jesus Christ's self-sacrifice becomes an effective center of the world's transformation when it becomes a model to be followed, when every person realizes his unity with Christ and is ready to repeat His self-sacrifice, when he becomes capable of voluntarily choosing suffering and death for the sake of fuller unification of people and rejection of negative freedom, which is inherent in his human essence. The vision of Russian Calvary is the ideological center of Tarkovsky's film, yet the meaning implied here receives reliable confirmation and justification only through life itself, through examples of self-sacrifice equal to Christ's. This is the pivotal line that unites almost all episodes of the film. Its beginning is seen already in the Prologue, where the short flight of a peasant on a balloon and his death are perceived as self-sacrifice for the sake of at least a momentary break-through to the transformed – integral and harmonious – world. This episode, however, is too obviously symbolic and is nearer in purport to the equally symbolic vision of Russian Calvary than to the real – terrifyingly real—examples of self-sacrifice and martyrdom which we see in the subsequent episodes.
When the buffoon, in the first episode of the film, goes out in response to the summons of the Grand Prince's troopers, he stops for a moment in the doorway and spreads out his arms; at that moments we see in his figure the outline of a cross – evidence of his own Calvary awaiting him. Their own path of suffering is also trodden by the stone- carvers, who are blinded on orders of the Grand Prince. Patrikei is subjected to torture and killed, though he could have avoided his Calvary by revealing to the Tatars the place where the church gold is hidden. When his torments approach their end and he feels that death is imminent, his last words are not about his righteousness of the merit of his action, but about his sins and his guilt, for which only God can grant him forgiveness. And at this moment the merciful face of the Savior gazes down on him from Andrey Rublyov's icon. The episode "The Raid" shows us the Calvary of an entire nation, whose martyrdom, again, has an obvious tinge of guilt. This, as with an individual man, is its bifurcation, its internal disagreement with itself and striving for domination over the likes of itself – after all, Russians kill Russians. All these episodes form a single pivotal line passing through the length of the film. But, strangely enough, the meaning of Jesus Christ's self-sacrifice is expressed most fully in the two principal characters – Andrey Rublyov and Boriska.
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In all cases I have mentioned, as distinct from Christ's story (as it appears in Andrey's vision), the characters in the film do not accept punishment for their metaphysical (and often enough empirically real) guilt voluntarily, their sufferings and death are the result of other people's ill will. But it is only if a man chooses martyrdom without being forced and thus admits his guilt, only then does he become Christ's successor and continues the work begun by Jesus. And this succession is none the less significant if the voluntary sacrifice, the voluntary acceptance of punishment for the man's own or mankind's guilt is not always as terrible as Christ's sacrifice and does not always involve death. In Christ's story the beneficent transforming nature of sacrifice is presented in its most radical manifestation and with the most radical consequences (death and resurrection as return to life). We all can only approach this extreme, this model of the greatest sacrifice and the greatest transformation of being. But even a smaller effort in this direction does not prove futile, but is added to other similar efforts of self-sacrifice in order to, having encompassed all mankind, bring about the final transformation of the world, its "resurrection" as a thing of absolute perfection.
The entire life of Andrey Rublyov in Tarkovsky's film is preparation for self-sacrifice, in which he hopes to approach Jesus as near as possible – not in the extent of his sufferings, but in the extent of the effect of his sacrifice on the world and the people around him. In the episode Festival, when pagan peasants seize Andrey and jeer at him, tying him to a tree in the position of crucified Jesus, he protests furiously, asking them even to tie him upside down – as long as there is no similarity to Jesus Christ. He understands that he is not yet ready for a sacrifice which could equal Christ's, that it is beyond his powers. And it is precisely because he understands the meaning of this sacrifice better than the others, that he proves capable of repeating it, though in a different form. When he murders the Tatar warrior, he realizes the depth of his guilt and accepts voluntary penance. It consists of fifteen-year-long silence, which allows him to acquire new experience in contemplative perception of the world and subjection of himself to this world through silence (after all our earthly words are a powerful weapon of Man's domination over the world). As the result, he produces his best icons, which express that supreme harmony of the transformed being, the road to which is only opened to Man only through absolute unification with the world, that is, through absolute sacrifice of oneself to the world. And on this path the meeting that proves of utmost importance for Andrey is with Boriska, the son of the bell-caster.
The story of Boriska, told in the last and biggest episode "The Bell", is the clearest continuation of the line of Russian Calvary. In the first scene the troopers of the Grand Prince seek masters who are able to cast a bell for the cathedral which has been restored after the Tatars' raid and the subsequent epoch of famine and ruin. The thawing snow, the overflowing river sparkling in the sun, the drying earth, the linen sheets spread on the ground in neat rows – all these are signs of peace and quiet in nature, and also signs of Boriska's simple life, in which the movement of time is not felt, in which man has become fully adapted to the world for the sake of supporting his blind, half-animal existence. But as soon as Boriska learns that the troopers are seeking a master who could cast a bell, without a moment's hesitation he undertakes to do it. "Take me," he says, voluntarily delivering himself into the hands of the troopers, who do not differ in the least from those who crucified Christ in the vision of Russian Calvary. When the troopers agree to accept him, Boriska runs across the white sheets spread on the earth and falls, stumbling against one of them. This sudden movement, which ends in a fall, is a symbol of a breakthrough from senseless and timeless existence to a feat of daring, through which alone transformation can be achieved. When, in the end of the episode, the bell is ready and ahead of Boriska is the last and most terrible trial – will the bell ring? – he momentarily leans against its still warm side and has a vision of his former existence; strips of thawing snow and black earth and white sheets spread on the ground, one of them still with a corner sticking up. He compares, as it were, his former life with his new one and the kicked up sheet becomes a symbol of a cross-over, a resolute deed, which has lifted Boriska to the plane where few can demise—those called upon to fulfil a role similar to Christ's.
"The Bell" episode is provided with a clue. After a long search, Boriska chooses the place suitable for the casting of the bell – a tall hill rising over the town. His assistants begin to dig the pit, and Boriska walks to the side of the pit and lies down, his arms thrown out. At this point the camera soars up, and we recognise in Boriska's outline the symbol of the same self-sacrifice as was made by Jesus Christ. We then understand that this hill is Boriska's Calvary, while the casting of the bell is his way of sacrificing himself for the sake of the people and the world.
While the men are digging, Boriska pulls a long root out of the earth, then looks thoughtfully at the tree to which this root belongs. This root is, as it were, the "tendon" of the world, of being. Boriska's action disturbs the peace of the world, destroys something in it: later we find out that he tree withered. Boriska is guilty towards this tree, he is guilty of this death towards the entire world. But this guilt is inescapable, it is necessary, for any single action of man in this imperfect world cannot but cause some destruction. But in what Boriska's action differs radically from all others is that it is his voluntary self-sacrifice, his Calvary, which redeems not only his personal guilt, but also the metaphysical guilt of all mankind and smoothes down not only the particular "breaks" which he causes but also the imperfection of being as such.
Like Jesus in the episode "Russian Calvary", Boriska performs his ordeal surrounded my a multitude of people – from the Prince himself and his troopers to his friend Andreyka and the casters, who all help him and feel love for him, understanding the great significance of his sacrifice. Significantly, Boriska himself does little actual work – refusing requests, voicing doubts, urging the workers on; almost all actual work is done for him by others. Having chosen the path of Jesus, he, like Jesus, unites people, who are ready to "aid in the deed that pleases the Lord".
As I have mentioned above, in the artistic world of Passion of Andrey, the active position is regarded as detrimental, at odds with Man's higher purpose. But in order that a person's ordeal and self-sacrifice really assumed the character of new Calvary, a new step towards the world's transformation, there must be somebody, who, while not acting himself, only observing, accepts the sacrifice. In the canonical Christian understanding of Calvary the self-sacrifice performed by Jesus Christ is accepted by his Father-God, it takes place before His very "eyes", so to speak, before His judgement, and it atones for all men's crimes. In Tarkovsky's world (as also in the artistic world of Dostoyevsky) God is problematic, he is "constitutionalised" by Christ's sacrifice, as it were, the sacrifice made before all people and the world – before an imperfect being. It is for this reason that in the episode of Russian Calvary Tarkovsky shows common people, peasant men and women, who kneel in the snow accepting Christ's self-sacrifice.
In all episodes of the film, presenting images of martyrdom and destination of Man, there are present two "parties", as it were, who accept the sacrifice and thereby give it meaning, including it in the endless chain whose beginning was laid by Christ's sacrifice. The first party is a definite person, who is to preserve the meaning of the sacrifice and, perhaps, combine it with his own sacrifice and thus continue the chain. Such a person is Nikitushka to whom the peasant flying on the balloon shouts: "I'm flying!" and Seryoga, Rublyov's pupil, who witnessed the scene of the stone-carvers' blinding, and Andrey Ryblyov himself, who watches Boriska and the casting of the bell; and even the Small Prince, who finds himself in the position of a witness of Patrikei's cruel death and of the martyrdom of the city of Vladimir, and in whom something human awakens, making it possible for him to perceive the meaning of this martyrdom.
In most of the scenes depicting Man's martyrdom and self-sacrifice, the events are gazed upon, as it were, from a great height; it may even be said that it is the "gaze" of the being itself as it accepts the man's sacrifice. The scene of the stone-carvers' blinding is preceded by portrayal from a height of the wood and the road along which they are going; in the last moment before Patrikei's death his martyrdom is shown from above, from under the cathedral's cupola; the episode of the martyrdom of an entire town is also concludes with a bird's eye view of it. And, finally, at the beginning of the work on the bell, when Boriska and his helpers are digging the bell-pit, the camera soars upwards, and we see Boriska's Calvary shot from a great height. In all these cases the simplest explanation of this gaze from above on the tragedy below would be that Tarkovsky projects the symbolic expression of the "gaze" of the Savior Himself, who accepts this redemption of human sins. But I feel that the last episode allows a different interpretation of this artistic device.
Before we are shown the bell-pit from above, Boriska pulls out a root from the earth and then gazes for a long time at the tree growing beside the pit. It is at this point that the camera begins its movement upwards till it reaches – at least it seems so to the spectator – the top of the tree on which Boriska's glance is riveted. One has the feeling that this "gaze" belongs to the tree itself, which will traverse its own road to Calvary together with Boriska and will die so that his sacrifice should be completed and should bring more sense and perfection into the world. So the gaze from above is in this case the gaze of the world itself, suffering in its imperfection together with Man, but yearning for perfection and accepting the man's sacrifice in the hope for resurrection and final harmony. And if it possible to interpret this gaze as the gaze of God, God should be understood not in the traditional Christian sense as a being which is already perfect and absolute, which exists outside the world, but in the sense I suggested on several occasions above – as the center of perfection and harmony, which was initially created by the sacrifice of Jesus Christ and which consolidates and expands the scope of its influence with every new voluntary self-sacrifice made by people.
The final scenes of the episode "The Bell" are worthy of special notice. They become a second culmination, as it were, of the film, one that rhymes with the image of Russian Jesus crucified in the snows. After the bell begins to ring, we understand that Boriska's Calvary has ended not in death, but in resurrection; moreover, that this resurrection involved not only Boriska himself but the whole world around him: before us is that very same festival of universal resurrection, which Andrey Rublyov painted on the walls of Cathedral in the scene of the Last Judgement. In it we see the festive city of Vladimir that has come to life again after the Tatar yoke and many years of famine; we see its jubilant populace clad in white – as though they are the same but resurrected people who perished at the hands of Tatars and the troopers of the Small Prince in the episode "The Raid". We see the unrecognizably transformed "Daft Girl", who was taken by Tatars to the Horde many years ago and now returns to Earth seemingly straight from the assembly or Righteous Wives in Rublyov's icon. And, finally we see Andrey himself, aged but at last possessed of the strength needed for creative work, because not only the powers of speech had been returned to him, but also the ability of prayerful illumination, the ability to see our entire world as integral, harmonious and lucid.
This has been brought about by the sacrifice made by Boriska to the people and the world, by his own Calvary. But the transformation achieved by thanks to Boriska's deed cannot, of course, be final and complete, it has to be continued. His sacrifice has to be accepted by the people, who, making a voluntary sacrifice of their own, going down their own Road to Calvary, dying and being resurrected, will carry it forward and make the world more perfect still. In the last shots of the film we see Andrey symbolically accepting Boriska's sacrifice in order to continue the feat of Jesus and of all those who followed in his steps. Tarkovsky introduces very characteristic brush-strokes into this scene: Boriska walks across the execution place, where stands the device for breaking the victims on the wheel, and drops at the foot of some pole, whose purpose, most likely, is also torture and execution. These are Boriska's last steps along his Road to Calvary. When Andrey sits down beside him and takes the weeping Boriska in his arms, we see a scene built by Tarkovsky in full conformity with the iconographic tradition in depicting the scene of lamentations for the dead Christ.
And, beyond the bounds of the plot of the film, we are shown fragments of Andrey Rublyov's icons ("Transfiguration", "Resurrection of Lazarus", "The Old Testament Trinity") which create the image of that lucid and harmonious world which was envisioned by Andrey as the result of his own Road to Calvary – all of his life, which ended with a true resurrection and immortality. Yet this is not all: the last thing Tarkovsky shows us is the face of the Savior, the image of Jesus Christ, the symbol of sacrifice. If people disavow their predestination and avoid repeating the self-sacrifice committed by Jesus, the images of a perfect world will remain mere images, dreams of an artist who rose over the prose and tragedies of life. The fate of Jesus – Man but not God – is a reflection of the profound essence of being. Rain-drops rolling down the icon of the Savior and the final shots depicting harmony on earth emphasize the indissoluble connection between the fate of Jesus Christ and the fates of the world and assert that the road of Jesus is the only one that can lead to the world's transformation.
Endnotes:
Note 1: F. Dostoyevsky. Complete Works in 30 vols. Vol. 24, pp. 46, 50 (in Russian).Back.
Note 2: F. Dostoyevsky. Crime and Punishment. Moscow, 1985, p. 310.Back.
Note 3: V. Solovyov. "On the Decline of the Medieval World Contemplation" // V. Solovyov. Works in 2 vols. Vol. 2. Moscow, 1990, p. 344 (in Russian).Back.
Note 4: See Yusov's reminiscences in his book: What is cinema? Moscow, 1989, p.236 (in Russian).Back.
Translated by Raissa Bobrova