Solaris (Солярис), 1972, directed by Andrei Tarkovski. Heights Theater, Thursday, September 29 at 7:00pm.

Solaris is not my favorite Tarkovsky, but watching it the other night, it was no longer a film I disliked. When I’d first seen it with my friend, Andy, at Lansing’s Odeon Cinema, a little art house theater in the early 90s, we were both totally unprepared for this insanely slow cinema. In fact, we spoke for years afterwards about the long, long, long driving scene in which nothing seems to happen.

This time, however, I enjoyed that scene, no doubt because I’ve grown used to this “slow cinema”, and have come to admire, greatly, Tarkovsky’s Mirror (my favorite) and Stalker.

What was most striking this time was watching this at the Heights Theater. About 15 minutes in, if that, there is a movie-inside-the-movie, of a Cosmonaut (Solarist? I seem to recall they were called Solarists…) describing a search mission on the ocean planet Solaris. He speaks of flying through dense clouds, clouds that seemed viscous. Inside, he saw a 4 meter sized baby. Then, he states that he has footage of the planet and the clouds and maybe the baby, taken from his craft.

Now we get silent footage of the planet, the undulating water, the heavy clouds. This is now a film-within-the-film-within-the-film, but what struck me most is this footage (it’s in black-and-white–the above picture is later, when the main character, in color, goes to the planet), which fills the screen. It is bright and the light filled the theater. There was total silence. Utter, beautiful, holy silence. Not a cough, not a yawn (that would come later), not a smartphone, a shifting in a seat, no one crunching popcorn or sucking on a straw. Bright, gray, penetrating silence that filled the theater. I don’t think the Heights ever has moments of silence–not even in Tarkovsky movies, for when it’s quiet, there is the sound of nature (itself pretty loud). Everyone was probably trying to bend their minds around this movie, probably baffled from the 3-minute credit sequence and strange music, and so they were rapt. I’d give almost anything to sit through that again, it was so beautiful.

Best overheard moment about Solaris, from a week later:
Man, looking at the Heights Sci-Fi poster, sounding disappointed: “Shoot. I missed Solaris.”
Woman, rolling her eyes: “It was three hours of contemplating hallways. In Russian.”