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Stalker (1979)
Stalker opens with a super deadpan mood brought on by filthy, drab living conditions. A pervasive sepia tint accentuates a derelict town. The unwelcoming tint is only lifted once the main character’s escape their highly guarded city and enter a forbidden area known as The Zone (an area with glimpses of civilization that has long been engulfed by landscape). The damp and foggy environment of the Zone reeks of post-apocalyptic dread; with mangled tanks, sullen power lines, and scarce fragments of industry being reclaimed by nature. The main characters then tread carefully through the Zone, wary of unseen anomalies. For each character, the goal is to find some intangible, mystical element that benefits them. The characters end up challenging their own perceptions of spirituality, science, and philosophy. What happens thereafter isn’t totally clear, and may take multiple viewings and some extra thought to determine. The film takes its story from the novel Roadside Picnic by the Strugatsky brothers (famed Russian sci-fi writers), which has also served as an impetus for several other works. It’s also interesting to note that Stalker’s chemically contaminated shooting locations even notoriously led to the death of several crew members after filming (including Tarkovsky).
Given when and where the film was made, one might be inclined to link the downtrodden and oppressive nature of the city to a not-so-subtle commentary on the state of the Soviet Union at the time. As highly unlikely as that is (considering it was Soviet funded, and there are no direct references that indicate as much), the poor and vulnerable state of the Soviet Union at the time could’ve been an unconscious contributor to an exceptionally bleak environment. Of course, wherever films are made, there are going to be a few with uninviting atmospheres. But, no region does bleak quite like Eastern Europe. Maybe it has something to do with the state of Eastern Europe during the later stages of the cold war, or maybe it’s just because a long list of notable filmmakers (such as Bela Tarr, Elem Klimov, Aleksey Balabanov, Srdjan Dragojevic, Piotr Szulkin, Andrzej Zulawski, Kieslowski, or Konstantin Lopushanskiy) happen to feed off of each other’s work in addition to their cultural zeitgeist.
Stalker’s darkly artistic and sluggish atmosphere has proven to be influential beyond where it was produced though. The more renowned crop of modern art house filmmakers like Lars von Trier and Nicolas Refn seem to worship the style. Bela Tarr’s movies similarly make use of extremely long takes, often to an even greater extent than what is seen in Stalker. Ingmar Bergman also cited Tarkovsky as the greatest filmmaker of his time.
This isn’t an accessible movie by any means. It’s not entry level art house cinema. You have to have an iron-forged attention span to get through it in one sitting. For those unfamiliar with Tarkovsky, many of the shots may seem to go on for an ungodly amount of time (about 140 shots in 160 minutes, for perspective). Rather than using cuts every few seconds, each shot can be looked at and studied like a painting. Even taken out of context, there are so many frames that can be taken from the film and separately appreciated for their dejected beauty. Stalker isn’t only ‘different,’ it’s transcendental. The first time I saw it, it gave me a revitalized idea of what a movie can be, and led me down a rabbit hole of bleak cinema that I’ve never gotten over.
Stalker opens with a super deadpan mood brought on by filthy, drab living conditions. A pervasive sepia tint accentuates a derelict town. The unwelcoming tint is only lifted once the main character’s escape their highly guarded city and enter a forbidden area known as The Zone (an area with glimpses of civilization that has long been engulfed by landscape). The damp and foggy environment of the Zone reeks of post-apocalyptic dread; with mangled tanks, sullen power lines, and scarce fragments of industry being reclaimed by nature. The main characters then tread carefully through the Zone, wary of unseen anomalies. For each character, the goal is to find some intangible, mystical element that benefits them. The characters end up challenging their own perceptions of spirituality, science, and philosophy. What happens thereafter isn’t totally clear, and may take multiple viewings and some extra thought to determine. The film takes its story from the novel Roadside Picnic by the Strugatsky brothers (famed Russian sci-fi writers), which has also served as an impetus for several other works. It’s also interesting to note that Stalker’s chemically contaminated shooting locations even notoriously led to the death of several crew members after filming (including Tarkovsky).
Given when and where the film was made, one might be inclined to link the downtrodden and oppressive nature of the city to a not-so-subtle commentary on the state of the Soviet Union at the time. As highly unlikely as that is (considering it was Soviet funded, and there are no direct references that indicate as much), the poor and vulnerable state of the Soviet Union at the time could’ve been an unconscious contributor to an exceptionally bleak environment. Of course, wherever films are made, there are going to be a few with uninviting atmospheres. But, no region does bleak quite like Eastern Europe. Maybe it has something to do with the state of Eastern Europe during the later stages of the cold war, or maybe it’s just because a long list of notable filmmakers (such as Bela Tarr, Elem Klimov, Aleksey Balabanov, Srdjan Dragojevic, Piotr Szulkin, Andrzej Zulawski, Kieslowski, or Konstantin Lopushanskiy) happen to feed off of each other’s work in addition to their cultural zeitgeist.
Stalker’s darkly artistic and sluggish atmosphere has proven to be influential beyond where it was produced though. The more renowned crop of modern art house filmmakers like Lars von Trier and Nicolas Refn seem to worship the style. Bela Tarr’s movies similarly make use of extremely long takes, often to an even greater extent than what is seen in Stalker. Ingmar Bergman also cited Tarkovsky as the greatest filmmaker of his time.
This isn’t an accessible movie by any means. It’s not entry level art house cinema. You have to have an iron-forged attention span to get through it in one sitting. For those unfamiliar with Tarkovsky, many of the shots may seem to go on for an ungodly amount of time (about 140 shots in 160 minutes, for perspective). Rather than using cuts every few seconds, each shot can be looked at and studied like a painting. Even taken out of context, there are so many frames that can be taken from the film and separately appreciated for their dejected beauty. Stalker isn’t only ‘different,’ it’s transcendental. The first time I saw it, it gave me a revitalized idea of what a movie can be, and led me down a rabbit hole of bleak cinema that I’ve never gotten over.