Rating: 
Summary: allegorical but very hard work for casual watchers
Review: "Cineastes" are implored in a review below to lap up this film, and you'd need to be the sort of person who knew what a cineaste was for me to give you an unhestitating recommendation for this film; a mere film buff might it heavy going, and a member of the general movie-going public will find Solaris bamboozling, incoherent and as pretentious as hell.Now if you are prepared to spend three hours analysing in close detail what the significance to the figurative scheme might be of small actions - there are very few "big" actions to analyse - then this is the film for you. Long periods aboard the good Spaceship unfold without dialogue, action or even much in the way of incidental music, and are suddenly shot through with flashbacks and (small) narrative developments which are very hard to decipher. I'm sure it's all very clever and allegorical, but I wasn't persuaded that the mental energy necessary to unpick the allegory was justified, and as a result I continually fell asleep and had to rewind or restart, and eventually watched the film over about 5 nights. Solaris is definitely eerie, and there are some terrific set pieces: among them a splendid spoof of the technicolour freak out trip from the climax of 2001 A Space Odyssey, which is re-cast, in black and white, through the eyes of a taxi-driver navigating the freeways and tunnels of Tokyo (this sounds ridiculous, I know, but it is true), but generally the name of the game is arty incoherence. It is also heavily influenced by 2001 (in many ways it's a straight copy), but is done with a fraction of Kubrick's wit or style, and nor does it have the epic scale (i.e., no Arthur C. Clarkian musings on the origins of life as we know it here, thank you very much). Indeed, the outward premise - trouble aboard a space station orbiting an apparently sentient ocean - is not the motivating force behind the production: in terms of exposition this is given rather short shrift, which is odd in a movie of this length in which not much else really happens. It's in Russian, of course, though generally the dubbing is excellent - it's very hard to tell the actors aren't speaking English, in fact, except when the dubbing suddenly stops and reverts to Russian. This happens three or four times. In any case, unlikely to be a million seller on DVD.
Rating: 
Summary: A Haunting Masterpiece.
Review: This film is long, but poignant, interesting, haunting, dazzling to the eye, and actually quite scary. While watching the rest of it (it took me a few viewings to get through with my busy schedule) the other night, I found myself alone on the first floor of my house, for what seemed like miles from the rest of the sleeping family upstairs, and I must admit I kept searching the room in fright after every little noise I heard. One bonus of the film being so long with big spaces between dialogue, it gives you the opportunity to switch to the informative commentary track, to hear some interesting insight into the film. While most other movies you MUST watch it with the commentary off to be able to take it all in correctly, you can actually get away with switching back and forth without missing too much of the actual film. One part of the commentary I disagreed with was when the male narrator noted that in the scene where Satorius takes the gauze off Hari's finger and tosses it, that he is doing this because of contamination. One can clearly see by his expression and manner in doing this that he is being sarcastic because he knows that Hari does not need a bandage, because the wound will simply regenerate and heal in a matter of minutes. There is also a sense of his envy toward her because Kelvin gets to have a doppleganger of his wife to somewhat enjoy, while Satorius only has dwarfs to deal with. I feel bad for the author Lem, because it seems like he worked with Tarkovsky yet he could not get what he wanted in the film because of the stubborness of Tarkovsky. While this film is a gem, I think Tarkovsky should have not collaborated with Lem on it, if he were basically going to shred it apart. Being a writer myself, I can understand how it would feel if someone totally transposed my work. On the other hand, I still love the film for what it is alone. I think the scenes on Earth are lovely and completely necessary. Had they not been there like in the book, the movie would have been 2 hours instead of 2 hours and 40 minutes, a much easier time for mainstream audiences to grasp. Tarkovsky is not a mainstream movie maker and thus the reason for him making these extra scenes on Earth, yet still making a two hour film version of the book behind it. With the exception of Star Wars, many sci-fi films of the 60's and 70's (including Kubrick's 2001) went all out with Sci-Fi special effects, but then seeing them today, they still seem way outdated. Where this film had no special effects budget and minimal sets, I think it still very much holds up today without looking dated. The scenes on Earth could have all taken place right now, or 30 years from now without anyone doubting it. And the look of the space station's interior, albeit vague and minimal, still looks fresh and not out of place in a current sci fi setting. The main annoyance to me in the film was the switching between black and white. While a few scenes called for it due to a switch in tonality or time within the film, there were other places that it made no logical sense to do so. Some say it was the lack of budget that did not offer Tarkovsky a vast stash of color film, so he tried to artistically spare it. It's a shame if that's the case, because there are a few scenes in black and white, which would have worked much better in color. Overall, a masterpiece of a film that is certainly not for everyone. The majority of blockbuster oriented moviegoers will hate this film, but true film lovers should treasure it.
Rating:
Summary: Tarkovsky and the Forgotten Dead
Review: I urge all cineastes and science fiction fans to see this film. It is nevertheless with some hesitation that I say anything whatsoever about Andrei Tarkovsky (1932 - 1986), a talent so prodigious that one might assess his achievement only in the humblest, most self-effacing terms. Working in the difficult conditions imposed by the totalitarian regime, he created only a handful of films, but each one constitutes a masterpiece. Critics probably accord to "Andrei Rublev" (1965) the rank of Tarkovsky's best work, but "Solaris" (1972), based on the novel (1962) by Stanislaw Lem, makes a more immediate appeal. (Not that Tarkovsky is ever "commercial" in the Hollywood sense - he is assuredly nothing like "commercial.") The relative accessibility of "Solaris" stems from the film's basis in genre narrative - in this case, science fiction - and from its inclusion, rare in Tarkovsky's oeuvre, of a love story. Lem's novel tells the story of humanity's attempt to establish contact (often capitalized, as Contact, and representing a kind of scientific Holy Grail) with the apparently intelligent, globe-spanning ocean of the world known as Solaris. A station has been in operation there for many decades, from which scientists descend to the world-sea to study the gigantic structures that it builds out of itself and then destroys. Although the planet's activity strongly hints at a form of consciousness, no direct contact has ever occurred between the researchers and the object of their exploration. Certain effects plague the researchers, however, driving them into alarming neurosis or - in one or two cases - outright autism. Authorities deputize Kris Kelvin, a psychologist, to investigate the problem (only three demoralized researchers remain on the station) to decide whether the entire Solaris project should be shut down. Important elements of Lem's novel resist scenic translation - for example, the long disquisitions on the history, ethics, and epistemology of discipline of "Solaristics," or the meditations on what science and theology mean for one another. Tarkovsky wisely ignores these (but by all means, read the book) and concentrates instead on the phenomenon of the "visitors." A "visitor" is a memory, mined deep from within the subject's personal experience, brought to life. Of the three remaining researchers, one, Gibarian, has already been driven to suicide by "visitation," while the two others, Snow and Sartorius, have become borderline psychotics. Gibarian has left only a confused "confession" on video tape. Snow and Sartorius, haunted by their "visitors," hide in their quarters when Kelvin arrives and confine themselves to mysterious half-utterances. Tarkovsky has realized the station in extensive, adamant detail. Genre critics speak of "hard" and "soft" varieties of science fiction, the former dealing with instrumentality and the latter with humanity. The genius of Tarkovsky is to incorporate both and to put them into irreconcilable conflict. I take the film for an allegory. The metallic station, full of gleaming instruments, is the "scientific society" promised by socialism - hence it is the Soviet Union itself. People assigned to the station find that they cannot live there; the place drives them crazy. Their torment comes from "visitation." Note that each man's "visitor" appears to reincarnate a dead person from his past around whom he has formed a debilitating complex of guilt and anxiety. Kelvin wakes up one morning to find in his room Hari (Lem's Rheya), his deceased wife, who committed suicide in circumstances never clearly defined. Kelvin's reacts by luring his "visitor" into a capsule, which he then fires into space. Snow and Sartorius have done the same. The "visitor" nevertheless returns, with no knowledge of its immediate precursor. When Hari appears again, Kelvin decides to reconcile himself to her presence; she, at the same time, must reconcile her own half-memories and confusion with the inexplicable situation in which she finds herself. Tarkovsky stages a deeply affecting scene in the station's library, where all four individuals on the station (Snow, Sartorius, Kelvin, and Hari) meet. Snow and Sartorius tell Kelvin their plan to bombard the ocean with x-rays, thereby to dissolve the "visitors." Kelvin argues that this would be murder, because Hari, for one, has become progressively more independent and human. She herself says this: I am becoming more a person all the time. (In fact, she has attempted suicide and has been "resurrected" before the three amazed men, her wounds healing spontaneously as she coughs and convulses back into life.) To what do Hari's words refer in the allegory? She is, in the moment, the voice for all the victims of the Bolshevist regime -- the dead of the gulag, the "unpersons" deprived of housing and meaningful employment, dissenters condemned to psychiatric wards. In the framework of Lem's novel, Tarkovsky has created a moment right out of Solzhenitsyn at his most forthright and powerful. He could not film "Cancer Ward" or "First Circle" but he could film "Solaris" and make a similar statement, speaking out for the uncounted dead on whom the Soviet failure and misery were based. Sonya Bondarchuk was nineteen years old when she played Hari: it is one of the most touching filmic performances ever. Donatas Banionis is Kelvin, equally fine. This edition of "Solaris" comes with an extensive interview with Bondarchuk, along with other extra material.
Rating:
Summary: solaris
Review: I'm Russian, so I have had a chance to watch this movie in the original Russian version and one with English subtitles. I should admit that perception of the film is somewhat different between these versions.
Humans often try to escape or try to ignore a difficult situation being afraid of possible (sometimes intolerable) consequences, creating a ground for subconscious conflicts. We carry these conflicts somewhere in our minds not realizing that these forgotten events from the past may play an important role in our future life. There is nothing in the human's world that can erase these events from people's mind.
I think that this move is anything else but not a typical scientific fiction film. Yes, it includes all elements of sci-fi (remote planet, space station, extraterrestrial intelligence) but the main focus of the movie is on humans. The planet and the space station created an environment where people (under the influence of the planet) where forced to deal with their the most valuable, important, and controversial events from their past. The station was a trap from which there was no escape. These people had no other choice then to learn how to deal with their subconscious conflicts. Eliminating conflicts the planet gave a second chance, a chance to start a new life. Those who could not resolve the conflicts went crazy or committed a suicide.
Rating: 
Summary: LIKE WATCHING PAINT DRY, ONLY MORE BORING
Review: This film is the driest, most boring, most pointless science fiction film ever produced by any nation. Solaris gets its overblown reputation as a classic no doubt because it came to America during the first years of the Reagan Administration and the elite media types had to find something Soviet to laud as they condemned The Great Communicator's relaunching of the Cold War. The only thing more boring than Solaris is the George Clooney remake, but at least that is (mercifly) shorter.
Rating:
Summary: Enigmatic
Review: Having failed to date to see the 2002 version of SOLARIS with George Clooney, I thought I'd at least view the 1979 Russian version as a point for future reference. A cult classic it may be, but another stunning "2001" it's not. Disturbing reports from the Russian space station in stationary orbit over the ocean of the planet Solaris cause mission controllers to doubt the mental health of a crew that has dwindled to three, the rest having retreated to Earth. Psychologist Kris Kelvin (Donatas Banionis) is sent up to investigate. Once aboard, he discovers that only two of the crew remain, the third having recently committed suicide. The station chief, Dr. Snauth (Juri Jarvet) cautions Kelvin not to be surprised by anything he sees. This is good advice for Kris to remember, especially when he awakens from his first sleep after arrival to find his wife, Hari (Natalya Bondarchuck), at his bedside. You see, she's been dead for 10 years. As Kris learns from Snauth and the other cosmonaut, Dr. Sartorius (Anatoli Solonitsyn), Hari is a "visitor" - a being conjured from Kelvin's memory by the unknown intelligence living in the Solaris ocean. Or, is it the ocean that's alive? As Kris soon learns, if you throw a visitor off the station, another copy soon appears. And if injured, a visitor regenerates. And what is a visitor's purpose? Neither Kelvin nor the audience ever knows for certain. This film has been characterized as "deliberate". At 169 minutes, I'd call it "slow". And the conversations between Kelvin, Snauth and Sartorius sometimes come across as non-sequiturs. Perhaps it's the English translation in the subtitles. Oddly enough, though, SOLARIS has a certain fascination that kept me watching. I suspect a kernel of profundity is buried here that could be endlessly debated. What is the essence of Love, or that of Existence? Are we the master of our memories, or do they govern us until the end of days, particularly if manipulated by external forces? Is the realist less affected by past experiences than the romantic? Banionis's scruffy, unprepossessing Kelvin makes for an unusual leading role. No Tom Cruise, George Clooney, or Mel Gibson here. But he's very good at depicting perpetual perplexity. Bondarchuck is engaging as the tragic Hari. She knows she's not Kelvin's real wife, and her love for him evolves into a cry of desperation via her own self-imposed feeling of inadequacy. Snauth and Sartorius were mostly annoying, though they did serve to keep Kris psyche grounded in reality. Finally, what was the Solaris intelligence up to? As the ending indicated at least to me, it was simply seeking from the minds of other beings suitable blueprints to construct its own world. Viewing the George Clooney version of the film is now a must. Perhaps it will clarify.
Rating: 
Summary: 2001 comparisons unavoidable for flawed masterpiece
Review: It is ironic that Andrei Tarkovsky and his collaborators are on record as saying that Solaris is a kind of answer to 2001: A Space Odyssey - a film that Tarkovsky thought was cold and soulless; he wanted to make a science fiction film with more "humanity". Ironic, because Solaris is every bit as aloof and obscure, and ultimately almost as awe-inspiring as Kubrick's film. Kubrick's 2001 gets a bum rap because its characters seem disengaged, sapped of warmth or the spark of dramatic conflict. In truth, they *are* engaged in dramatic conflict...just not with each other. The antagonist is an unseen alien presence, whose only manifestation is an enigmatic black monolith (of course, there is the showdown between astronaut Bowman and HAL the computer that dominates the second half, but I digress...). In Solaris, though there is a fair amount of more traditional character development, the alien intelligence is equally impenetrable. The plot concerns an astronaut psychologist who visits a space station orbiting an ocean planet known as Solaris. He is there to see if the research into the ocean planet's apparent intelligence should be discontinued because of its tendency to give physical form to the crew's deepest fears and hopes. It apparently creates replicas of people from the crew members' pasts, that - though seemingly human - are immensely strong, recover quickly from injury, and are essentially immortal: no matter how fiendishly you get rid of them, they always come back. One of the key questions raised by the film is whether these replicas, or "guests", have their own interior lives (a sense of "I-ness"), are mindless automata, or perhaps embody in some way the intelligence of Solaris' ocean. The most disturbing part is that the guests themselves don't seem to know. The psychologist's guest (the only one we get to know) is his late wife, who committed suicide a decade earlier. She, or perhaps "it", suffers an identity crisis that causes her to repeat the past endlessly. But she is unable to truly commit suicide, as she keeps coming back. This is the worst kind of existential dilemma: the psychologist cannot seem to correct the mistakes of the past (and free himself of guilt), while his guest cannot escape the apparent pain of a meaningless existence. Of course, it takes awhile to get to this point in the film, as it begins (and stays...and stays) on Earth, with the psychologist at his family home in some unnamed rural area, preparing for his mission. Then there is the last 30 minutes, where the long prolog pays off. I won't say what happens, but it closely follows 2001's arc, culminating in a surreal encounter with the everyday made alien, and an enigmatic intelligence that just might be a secular vision of God. Solaris is not perfect. It suffers from a low budget (readily apparent in the special effects, or lack thereof) and a seemingly unmotivated switch back and forth between color and black and white. (It is said that the cost-conscious Russian studio would only give Tarkovsky a limited amount of the more expensive color film stock to work with.) Then there is Tarkovsky's tendency to let scenes run on and on - sometimes to great effect with an unexpected payoff, at other times to painful boredom. But these problems are forgivable. Tarkovsky, after all, made the great Andrei Rublev. Solaris contains sequences of lyrical beauty and strangeness, and images that will follow you into your dreams. Stirring and thought-provoking, Solaris is truly a masterpiece, flawed though it may be. The Criterion double disc set is well produced, with a nice commentary track by Tarkovsky experts Vida Johnson and Graham Petrie, and a wealth of documentary material, deleted scenes, and interviews with Tarkovsky collaborators on the second disc. The only frustrating part is the knowlege that modern technology could have been employed to remix the sound track digitally into Dolby 5.1. Sadly, Tarkovsky died in 1986, and Criterion would understandably not undertake such a thing without his direct involvement. It's a pity - I can only imagine what a spacious, high-fidelity sound mix might have added to the experience of watching this film.
Rating:
Summary: The Anti-2001
Review: Tarkovsky's most popular film was often viewed as the atni-2001 when it was first released. In many ways it was--the story focuses on the personal and how we define our sense of humanity while 2001 focused on the way technology robs us of our humanity. The ironic thing is that Tarkovsky reportedly disliked Kubrick's masterpiece and yet it resembles 2001 more than it is different than it. More than likely, it was epic envy; the broad canvas that Kubrick used to make 2001 was something that would have appealed to the talented Russian director. Based on Stanislaw Lem's classic science fiction novel, Solaris concerns a crew aboard a space station observing an unusual planet. Solaris is no ordinary planet, however, as it is sentient (much like the Monolith in 2001 which represented the remains of the alien civilization that created it). What's more, the planet has the ability to shape dreams that come to life. Psychologist Kris Kelvin is sent out to find out what's happened to the crew aboard the space station (much like the Monolith recreates its vision of a home--actually in 2001 it's an impersonal, gaudy hotel room or palace). Kelvin quickly finds himself sucked into the dream given flesh that has so distracted and unsettled the crew. He arrives to find the crew haunted by people and things from their dreams. After his first night on the station Kelvin is also effected. He awakens to find his wife with him. This is impossible, however, because she committed suicide years before. Like all of Tarkovsky's films Solaris is long and short on exposition. It's character driven (much like 2001 was character driven--but by the machines that have supplemented humanity). The basic premise is similar to Lem's novel, but Tarkovksy uses it as a means to question reality and memory. It's a visually striking although spare film as well. Clearly Tarkovsky didn't have the resources of Kubrick but managed to make do with what he had. A warning for those interested in seeing this film. Tarkovsky's films, like many of Kubrick's, move at a glacial pace. They are not for everyone. There are many long, involved takes and there isn't anything approaching action in his films. I'd recommend renting it to see if you like it. For fans of the novel by Lem, you may want to approach the film with an open mind. Lem disliked the film because Tarkovsky's approach was very different to the same themes. There's also quite a bit of religious symbolism embedded in Solaris something Lem might have objected to as well. Tarkovsky made few movies during his lifetime due to the restrictions of the communist government but this, in some respects, is his most intense and personal. Like Kubrick and Kurosawa, Tarkovsky was a master with his own, unique vision expressed in his films. Again, that's ironic given that his films were made during an era in Russia where the collectivism of Communism overshadowed the individual. Ultimately, what's most rewarding about the film is the questions it raises about what makes us human. Some of the answers are quiet startling. The transfer is quite good and the soundtrack sounds pretty good as well although there is some distortion. The extras include a running commentary by two Tarkovsky scholars (although I disagree with many of their observations, some of them were on target). Additionally, the second disc has scenes excised from the film. Most of these scenes are repetitive and dilute what they explain so one can see why they were left out. The loss of individuality and our sense of humanity in the vastness of space (a perfect metaphor for the Communist society--or any society for that matter)is a theme common to Kubrick and Tarkovsky. Their very different views and social values helped shape their differing film vision.
Rating:
Summary: Extraordinary Movie
Review: I'm so pleased that SOLARIS is finally on DVD (prompted, no doubt, by the recent remake). Ostensibly, it's a sci-fi movie, but it's likely to appeal to non-sci-fi fans. In many ways, it reminds me of 2001. The plot concerns some mysterious events in a Russian space station in the future. The space station is studying the planet Solaris, which has a swirling plasma-like ocean that may or may not be sencient. A psychologist, Dr. Kris Kelvin, is sent to retrieve the remaining crew and determine whether the mission can continue. When he arrives, Dr. Kelvin is shocked to find that the crew has "guests." Whether the "guests" are hallucinations is left somewhat unanswered, and the ending is fairly enigmatic. However, the film is first-rate in every way. The visuals are simply stunning; it's one of the best looking films I've ever seen, and this beauty is enhanced by DVD technology. The film is long (2 hours and 45 minutes) and slow-moving; however, I was never bored and actually found myself wishing the movie could go on further. Highly recommended to fans of 70s cinema, intelligent sci-fi, and great movies. I haven't seen the remake, but seeing the original has definitely made me curious.
Rating:
Summary: Review of the Criterion 2-disc DVD
Review: A frequent theme in science fiction is that humans have become so dehumanized in their devotion to technology that they have lost touch of their emotional capacities. In SOLARIS, the 1972 film by the great Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky, this theme is given an unusually personal and emotional treatment. It is about an unhappy man who travels to space and finds the emotional closure and the spiritual enlightenment that he lacked on Earth. It has often been compared to Stanley Kubrick's cryptic 1968 film 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY. But while 2001 emphasizes the sterility and uncontrollability of science, SOLARIS deals mainly with the fragileness and preciousness of the human spirit. Unlike 2001, which ponders the vastness and infiniteness of space, Tarkovsky's film probes the opposite direction and reveals the inner dimensions of the human mind. The success of Tarkovsky's SOLARIS is that it offers a stark depiction of human emotions via the simplest and most austere means. Tarkovsky rarely uses fancy editing or elaborate camera angles, and prefers long takes and slow camera movements. Dialogs are softly spoken. He always chooses the least assuming way to present a scene. Such a style, of course, does not endear him to those who prefer a more dynamic and vibrant type of cinema. But one should note that perhaps the subtleties of human emotions demand subtler ways of filmmaking, which, in turn, demand our closer observations. Criterion's all-region, 2-disc DVD version of SOLARIS offers a beautiful video transfer, the original Russian soundtrack in 1.0 mono, re-written optional English subtitles, and rewarding extra material. The anamorphic 2.35:1 video transfer was created from a 35mm positive made from the original negative. This is a newer, different transfer from the ones on previous DVD versions by other companies. Subtitles have also been re-written and, as is usually the case with Criterion DVDs, improved, with less paraphrasing and fewer untranslated dialogs compared to older video releases. The first disc contains the 169-minute film in its entirety and a full-length audio commentary by two Tarkovsky experts, Vida Johnson and Graham Petrie. The scene-specific commentary provides good coverage of a variety of topics concerning the film, such as Tarkovsky's artistic style and thematic explorations, various contributions from the filmmakers, certain details about the making of the film, how the film deviates from the original novel by Stanislaw Lem, and aspects of Tarkovsky's personal life. But the strength of the commentary is its analyses of the film's characters, themes, and Tarkovsky's direction. And due to the length of the film, the commentators have ample time to allow sufficient elaboration on every thesis, making this audio track one of the more satisfying analytical commentaries I've heard. Major issues such as mortality, faith, and humanity, as well as minor observations regarding gestures, background noises, and other allusions are dealt with in great depth and competence. One fascinating comment regarding Tarkovsky's use of long takes is that it dilutes any sense of suspense that editing usually contributes, the result being a more immersive and meditative atmosphere. The second disc contains almost half hour of deleted scenes and about 100 minutes of new interviews with the film's principals. Most of the deleted scenes seem to conform to our expectations as to why scenes were deleted in a movie like this -- they are too explicit about things that are better left unexplained. The deleted opening sequence, for instance, is a didactic text prologue that is so out of character with the subtle approach of the rest of the movie. The deleted dream scene of Kris and his mother depicts their relationship more explicitly, thus lessening the dream-like quality of the scene. The most fascinating deleted scene is an expanded version of the scene of Kris in the "mirror room," in which the various reflections of the mirror reflect Kris' fragmented and fragile mental state. The interview segments include a half-hour interview with Natalya Bondarchuk, who plays Hari. She recalls how she met Tarkovsky, how she was cast (with a little trickery on her part), her experiences on the set, analyzes the character of Hari, and praises the unique meditative style of Tarkovsky. In another half-hour interview, cinematographer Vadim Yusov talks about the many visual motifs in the film, how the special effect shots of Solaris were created, and even talks about his work on Tarkovsky's previous film ANDREI RUBLEV (a few clips also included). In a 17-minute interview segment, art director Mikhail Romadin discusses his various intentions in designing the sets for SOLARIS. Both Yusov and Romadin also mention Tarkovsky's strongly negative reaction to Kubrick's 2001 and Lem's insistence that the film should adhere to his book. Composer Eduard Artemyev, in his 20-minute interview segment, describes his background on electronic music that first attracted Tarkovsky, and recalls the challenges of translating Tarkovsky's unique demands into music. Finally, there is disappointingly brief, 5-minute video clip of a Polish documentary about Lem and his struggle with Tarkovsky. The only thing relevant is Lem's only remark in the clip: "Finally I said [to Tarkovsky and his crew], 'You idiots!' I tried to soften him up a little. But he was stubborn, and so was I. So I ended up returning to Warsaw." There must be a lot more to the disagreement between the two men, but we get the picture. (I also posted an expanded version of this review at Epinions.com, under the account kevyip.)
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