The Sacrifice

1986 action thriller

Rating: 18/20

Plot: As World War III looms, a man attempts to save his family and world and tree with nothing but a little spunk and some levitation.

I'm not sure what tantric sex even is, but whenever I imagine him having sexual intercourse, something that I probably do more than the average person, I imagine him levitating like the guy does with the witch in this movie.

My trek through the filmography of Andrei Tarkovsky has been a slow one, and I'm not sure why because I've loved everything I've seen. And I'm not just talking about loving every movie that I've seen. I'm talking about loving nearly every single (usually extended) shot in every single movie I've seen. Anyway, it was Tarkovsky's birthday, and that gave me the excuse to watch this. Also, I want to impress a Russian friend of mine. My Russian friend was not impressed.

This movie might have ruined Ready Player One for me. If you've read my ramblings before, you probably know that I like movies that give me a lot of breathing room, space to contemplate, movies like koans. Tarkovsky's movies all have that space. Ready Player One, which I saw the night after I watched this, is the exact opposite of that. I don't think I would have liked Spielberg's latest popcorn butter-covered blockbuster anyway, but seeing The Sacrifice the night before watching it probably made me despise it more than I should have.

There will be no levitation for me, friends. Not with a Russian or a Swede or Sting or my wife who is the only woman I will ever sleep with. I've done some haphazard internet research and can't find any instructions, and Sting has not returned any of my emailed inquiries. The Russians are mysteriously quiet on the subject.

"In the beginning was the word," and if there's a criticism of this movie, it's that it's too wordy in its first chunk. Realize that's part of the point as Erland Josephson's Alexander, who pontificates about Hamlet and his own problems with verbosity, transforms into a man of action after a life of being a man of nothing but words. Josephson, by the way, is fantastic in this. I imagine these enigmatic characters--the kinds that it seems like only foreign directors can accurately make--would be tough to create. Here's a guy who wakes up every day and waters a tree and burns down his house because God and Nietzsche told him to, and Alexander's the type of character whose arc is different from what is normal in movies. Instead of the character growing and becoming easier to relate to or understand, he becomes more distant and more difficult to figure out. Josephson is the same actor who plays the guy trying to carry that candle across the pool in Tarkovsky's Nostalghia. I almost want to think that it's the same character and that this is a prequel to Nostalghia, but that probably doesn't add up and isn't an idea that would impress my Russian friend or Sting.

Tarkovsky was exiled at the time he made this, and there are likely personal parallels (most notably, the character's son, Little Man). Filmed in Sweden, this movie, according to a lot of cinephiles, resembles Bergman more than Tarkovsky's earlier work. I'm not nearly smart enough to write about something like that, probably the reason why I spend so much time on tantric sex even though it doesn't have anything to do with anything. What I do know is that this movie is beautifully filmed. Maybe frequent Bergman-collaborator Sven Nykvist is the real hero of this thing, as these shots, maybe which are elaborately choreographed extended shots, are stunning. Blowing curtains lighting and darkening Little Man's room as the kid sleeps. Ingenious movements with mirrors and cabinet doors. The opening shot with landscape and the tree that bookends our story. Sheep choreography. People choreography. The aforementioned haunting levitation sequence. A dream sequence where a car has apparently crashed into a bunch of chairs, surreal and quietly apocalyptic chaos. A big war movie action sequence done in a way that only Tarkovsky could do it.

And the finale with a burning house? I'm not sure how things were timed so perfectly (having to rebuild the house and do the whole thing a second time probably didn't hurt), but I was floored while watching this scene unfold. I think I've told several people, including my Russian friend and Sting (in an email), that this scene is the best one I have ever seen in a movie. That's likely not true, but I know one thing--it's not far off. And it makes everything that is splashed on the screen in Ready Player One look like an amateur threw it together.

This movie has lots of water, chairs, and mirrors. It also has lots of Japanese music, at one point surprising the viewer by being diegetic. A Russian guy forced to finish his career in Sweden and obsessing over Japanese culture? I'm not sure I'm smart enough to get the link there either or understand all the symbolism.

I had predicted this movie would focus more on mortality, probably because I knew it was sort of a deathbed film for the director. I don't think it has much to do with mortality at all though. It has more to do with tantric sex and witches and nuclear bombs and mute kids watering trees.

I'll watch Andrei Rublev next, probably sometime in June, and then I'll have gotten through Tarkovsky's major works. Who wants to watch it with me?