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Stalker, 1979

In an undefined future, a man known only as a Stalker (Aleksandr Kaydanovskiy) guides two men, the Writer (Anatoliy Solonitsyn) and the Professor (Nikolay Grinko) into and through a mysterious area known as The Zone. Ostensibly having something to do with a crashed alien ship or something of that nature, the Zone is a strange place. Within the Zone exists a room said to grant the inner desires of those who enter, and we watch as the men wind their way toward it.

So when I was in elementary school, I attended a birthday party and being a total sugar-fiend, I watched in delight as a large chocolate cake was carried to the table. This thing was a dream. The kind of cake that almost looks more like a cartoon than a real thing. I happily queued up for my piece and then, hustling to a seat, took my first bite. It was not good. The chocolate was infused with some sort of fruity extract or flavoring, and even to my young palate, sickly sweet. My body actually rebelled, and I could only bring myself to take one more small bite in the hopes that I'd just gotten an odd bite. It was confusing. How could this thing that looked and smelled so good not be delightful?

I am not saying that Stalker is a gross piece of cake, not even close. But this is the second time that I have watched it and experienced that sense of confusion. Slow-burn sci-fi, amazing visuals---this is a film that is basically made for my tastes and yet I just fail to click with it. Going into this viewing, I even saw this as my second chance. I knew that I hadn't connected with the film when I watched it about 10 years ago, but I figured that I'd matured and seen a lot of films since then, and I would probably have a new appreciation for it.

This viewing, though, was very much the same as the first time. The look of it is stunning. The part of me that responds to films on some sort of weird intuitive/visual level was absolutely thrilled by this film. I had half-remembered certain sequences and images, but they were so much better than I remembered. It's something about the combination of organic forms and off-kilter glimpses of technology. The sequence late in the film in which large light bulbs float in the water, just adding a disconcerting and borderline beautiful element to the background of the action.

Why this film doesn't touch me on a deeper level is something I can't quite figure out. I have seen a handful of Tarkovsky's films (Ivan's Childhood, Solaris, Andrei Rublev and the first 1/3 of Mirror), and Stalker is the least connected to the story that I've felt out of all of them. I am well aware that many people consider Stalker to be Tarkovsky's best, and the word "masterpiece" gets thrown around in regards to it by many people whose taste I appreciate. I don't know what it is that I don't see what they see.

From a technical and visual point of view, this was incredibly engaging. But I never fully clicked with it on an emotional level, and so my appreciation for it was somewhat from a distance.