Andrei Rublev (1966) User Reviews

The Pieta of Filmmaking

[Scoopy · 9/10 · 29 April 1999]

Andrei Rublev (alternately transliterated as Andrei Rublyov) is an epic film created by the Soviet-era director, Andrei Tarkovsky. It was financed and created during a brief cultural thaw in East-West relations, marked by the end of Kruschchev's reign. Within reason, the 205 minute director's cut represents exactly what Tarkovsky wanted in the movie. Unfortunately for Tarkovsky and for us, Kruschev was deposed shortly after filming began, and the 205 minute version was not seen until twenty five years after its creation. The Breszhnev-era censors first trimmed 15 minutes from it, then censors and marketers trimmed more. The shortest known version has been truncated to 145 minutes. Even more sadly, Tarkovsky was never again to get approval for the projects he really wanted to film, or an adequate budget to film the ones that did get approved.

Fortunately for us, this movie, recently rereleased in a DVD transferred from a pristine 35mm print, may now be viewed intact, and it is one of the great triumphs of mankind's stay on the planet. It is a masterpiece almost without flaw. The beautiful painterly images follow one another in breathtaking succession. At least three of the eight chapters, if taken individually, could stand alone as separate masterpieces.

The ostensible subject is the life of Andrei Rublev, a 15th century monk who is renowned as Russia's greatest creator of religious icons and frescoes. Rublev himself, however, is merely a useful device. Little is known about him, and most of the episodes in the movie come straight from Tarkovsky's imagination of what might have been. Sometimes one must ignore the facts to get to the truth.

The movie is not about one talented monk, but about Russia, and Rublev stands in as a useful symbol since he lived in a time when he could personally witness two of the key elements in the development of Russia's unique culture: the growing force of Byzantine Christianity, and the Mongol-Tatar invasions. In addition he was an artist and a thinker, and experienced first-hand the difficulty of following those paths in Russia. Rublev's own inner conflicts allow the filmmaker to illuminate thoughts on the pagan and the sacred, the nature of art, the relationship of the artist to the state, what it means to be Russian, and what it means to be human.

It is beautiful, mystical, and profound, but the truly inspiring aesthetics are matched with complete technical wizardry. I simply don't know how some of the shots were created. One I do understand, and stand in awe of, is a continuous single camera shot, just before the church door is breached by Tatar invaders, which involves action in several different locations at multiple elevations as well as the correct timing of hundreds of extras and horses. It makes the first scene of Touch of Evil look like a high school film project.

It is a difficult movie to follow. One might liken it to James Joyce's Finnegan's Wake as a work of genius so monumental and complex, and so disdainful of traditional narrative form, that it requires extensive thought and study to understand it. And even after studying it, watching it repeatedly, and reading Tarkovsky's own comments about it, one still finds it opaque in many ways.

Tarkovsky was free to create the work of art he wanted, without concern for profit. The original 205 minute cut was also free from outside censorship. He used this freedom to realize his personal artistic vision. There is no other movie like it, and there may never be. Score it 11 out of 10.

"You'll cast bells, I'll paint icons"

[ackstasis · 8/10 · 25 July 2008]

Just as Andrei Rublev faced doubt about whether or not, having sinned, he could continue his celebrated iconography, I likewise find myself in two minds about Andrei Tarkovsky's film. My experience with the director's other work is, as usual, limited, but I still couldn't shake that persistent expectation that I would love 'Andrei Rublev (1969).' There is certainly much to love about it, but my appreciation for the film can best be described as admiration rather than affection, and, though I can speak with only the utmost praise for Tarkovsky's achievement, it doesn't occupy that exclusive space close to my heart. The film is a deeply-personal religious work, an examination of faith and moral values, and so perhaps it's inevitable that the film didn't leave such a deep impression, considering my preference towards atheism; one unfortunately cannot discard all personal convictions for the mere purposes of appreciating a work of art. I do, however, like to think that the majesty of cinema, in most cases, is able to transcend religious boundaries.

Andrei Tarkovsky released his first feature-length film, 'Ivan's Childhood,' in 1962. Even prior to its release, the director had already expressed interest in filming the life of great Russian iconographer Andrei Rublev, even though very little is actually known about his life. Working with a screenplay written by himself and Andrei Konchalovsky, Tarkvosky began filming in 1964, and a 205-minute cut was screened for a private audience in Moscow in 1966. The critical response, however, was mixed, and sizeable cuts were made to the film's running time, before a 186-minute version screened out of competition at the Cannes Film Festival in 1969. I'm not entirely sure which version I ended up watching; the time counter indicated somewhere around 165 minutes, though my brief research couldn't uncover any major missing sequences. In hindsight, I should probably have held out for longer and acquired the Criterion Collection DVD, which restores the picture to its four-hour glory. In several years' time, when I inevitably decide to revisit Tarkovsky's film, I'll make certain to do just that.

'Andrei Rublev' is divided into nine distinct segments, including a colour epilogue displaying Rublev's weathered icons as they exist today. They each explore a facet of the great painter's life, placing particular emphasis on his faith in God and how it relates to his work on frescos and icons. Interestingly, though Rublev (Anatoli Solonitsyn) himself appears in most of the stories, he is often hidden in the background, a passive observer on the behaviour of others, including Kirill (Ivan Lapikov), who is jealous of Rublev's recognition, and young Boriska (Nikolai Burlyayev), who successfully casts a bell using faith rather than knowledge. One consequence of this narrative format is a lack of cohesiveness in Tarkovsky's storytelling. We adequately follow the plot of each segment, but, as the whole, the film doesn't seem to build towards any notable climactic revelation – the completed film is equal to the sum of its parts, which is still very impressive, but pulls it short of being a masterpiece. Once again, however, I must acknowledge that the 205-minute version may potentially correct this problem.

One statement that can not be disputed, however, is that 'Andrei Rublev' really is a beautiful piece of film-making. Vadim Yusov's black-and-white photography captures the exquisite delicateness of nature with almost heartbreaking intricacy; even the raindrops of a midday shower are imbued with the gentle elegance of the Heaven from which they ostensibly fell. Tarkovsky finds simple beauty in the quiver of a tree branch in the breeze, the leisurely flow of a river, herds of livestock fleeing from an aerial balloon. In portraying the complete opposite, the destruction of nature, the director is capable but not quite the master he is otherwise. The raiding of Vladimir by a troop of Tatars was obviously supposed to be the centrepiece of the picture, but Tarkovsky underplays every detail to such an extent that his "chaos" ultimately winds down into a staged conflict. Compare this sequence with Sergei Bondarchuk's burning of Moscow in 'War and Peace (1967),' in which one feels as though he has descended into the fires of Hell, and the contrast is telling.

A Masterpiece

[xmdbx · 9/10 · 8 January 2019]

There isn't much more you can ask of a film. It is more than the story of a painter, it is the story of a time and a people that is underrepresented in cinema. Everything about it is top-notch. The sprawling landscapes used as the background for much of the movie is as visually stunning as you will see. The epic narrative, though a bit harder to follow because I had to rely on subtitles, is nearly unmatched in scale. The philosophical questions posed (blatantly and subtly) are as thought provoking as any. And the switch to color was one of the most amazing things I have ever seen in a film. Another particular moment that I found incredible was when Foma collapsed into the water after being struck with an arrow and the splash seemed to jump out of the screen. The actor who played Boriska was excellent, I never thought I would care so much about whether a bell worked or not.

What side will you take?

[Vadim_ · 10/10 · 21 March 2005]

Some historical knowledge will definitely not hurt while watching this film.

The medieval society was deeply religious. The church influenced every aspect of people's lives from birth to death and was part of the state. It means religious leaders were as important as rulers.

In Russian society men were wearing beards and women covered hairs. Remove a beard from a man or uncover woman's hair and you will humiliate them, they would feel like modern people being undressed in public.

Paganism is a form of religion, where people believe in many gods instead of one. The main Russian pagan gods are the goddess of the earth and the god of the sun. Among others - the god of storms and lightning, the mythical young women living in forests and rivers. Despite many centuries of suppression of paganism by authorities some in modern Russia still celebrate the feast of Ivan Kupala (which could be translated as Ivan Gathering) depicted in the movie.

Also I have to mention, that Soviet censors told Tarkovski the movie is too cruel. They told him the scene with a burning cow, for example, is absolutely unacceptable. Tarkovski tried to defend the movie. The cow wasn't harmed, was his reasoning. Still the film was cut. The censors knew better what is good and what is not for the viewer.

This brings us to what is the message of Tarkovski in this film. There are many messages actually. I'll be telling only about one here, because it is not hidden. It is there, in the dispute between Rublov and Theophanes The Greek. They both are talented, both want to bring people to humanity. Theophanes is tired, he says - common people live in darkness, they are completely consumed by sin and the only way to make them humans is to scare them and punish them. Rublov advocates for love. He says: people live very difficult life, it's amazing how they endure it. We have to love them, to remind them, they are humans, they are Russians. You see, the first is the position of the Soviet system, the second - of Jesus Christ.

Me? I'm still sitting on the fence. :)

I recommend to watch this movie many times. You will do it without my recommendation though, if you (like me) will not understand everything from the first view and you like to think. The mesmerizing beauty of this movie will help you to return easier. For the first time be prepared for not a cakewalk. There are two things to consider here. One is the cruelty. Though it is absolutely necessary in this film, most of us living in a comfort of modern society are not ready to it. The other is the pace. Often it is a pace of real life.

Peace.

The Greatest Movie Ever Made

[shukov · 3 December 1998]

"Andrei Rublev" is not merely my favourite all-time film; it transcends such pat, by-the-numbers praise. I have seen "Andrei Rublev" three times (twice on the big screen), at three very different points in my life. Each viewing, it has spoken eloquently and directly, has immersed and fascinated me. And has moved me with superlative skill and force. Other great movies have entertained me, inspired me, made me think; only "Rublev" has palpably altered my outlook on life.

Andrei Rublev was a medieval Russian iconographer; the film chronicles his struggle to maintain faith and artistry in a world of immeasurable cruelty and suffering. Rather than give us a crackerjack plot line with all the proper scene climaxes & paradigm shifts, director Tarkovsky presents us with a world in which we must immerse ourselves; once we are inside, we are confronted with rigorous pain and profound triumph. The movie is divided into chapters; the final one, involving an orphaned bell-maker's son, is a stunning film-within-a-film that provides a microcosm of the whole movie. That section, if it stood alone, would be my all-time favourite film.

Be warned: "Andrei Rublev" is SLOW. You have to slide into it; it's not a flick which dazzles, it is a world which beguiles, and which demands to be inhabited. Also, there are EXTREMELY difficult scenes to watch--torture and bloodshed abounds. Watching the Tartar attack on a Russian town is the most painful experience I've ever had--not just in a cinema, but in life.

For those willing to make the gruelling trek, however, "Andrei Rublev" is an inspiring, life-affecting experience. Created under an oppressive Soviet regime (which banned the film for years, recognizing its symbolic commentary on 20th-century Soviet government), the film shows how life can be valuable and even joyful, no matter how much suffering stands in the way.

Especially recommended for Tarkovsky fans, Dostoevsky fans, fans of medieval art, and anyone grappling with questions about suffering and human expression.

The gospel according to Andrei Rublev

[desh79 · 10/10 · 18 December 2004]

As someone who has seen this movie roughly five times and regards it as the greatest masterpiece in the history of cinema, I find it difficult to fathom how anyone can think that Andrei Rublev is "slow" or "boring". It is true that it's slow-paced, and perhaps too demanding in its unconventional structure of narrative, but I would prefer this to anything commercial cinema releases in its quest to appeal to as broad a market a possible. In other words, given the choice between a film that treats its audience with respect and gives you enough credit to assume you are willing to sit through roughly three hours of lengthy dialogue and long takes, not to mention some of the most mesmerisingly beautiful visuals ever seen on screen; and one which treats its audience like a demographic that can be appealed to like consumers, not individuals with their own dreams, fears, hopes and aspirations, I know which type of cinema truly bores me.

It is often the case that art serves as a mechanism used to comment on social- or individuals ills; rarely however, if at all, does it reflect on itself and its own function to humanity. This is what makes Andrei Rublev a unique and important film, since it addresses the role of the artist in the world. Any questions regarding historical accuracy (or rather lack thereof) towards Rublev's personal life are slightly pointless, since the character is merely used as a vehicle to drive the thematic elements of the narrative. That's not to say that Rublev here is an empty shell, it's simply that Tarkovsky used him as a means to impose his personal views on the subject. Why create art? Does being an artist mean expressing love for humanity? If so, why should one express love for something which seems to hate itself? These are just a few of the questions which arise from viewing this film (and some of which Rublev seems to ask himself, illustrated by at first a naive belief in the good in all humanity, then disillusion, and eventually a rekindling of faith), but it makes the montage of Rublev's work at the end of the film all the more effective, since it creates an understanding of the pain and anguish that lie behind these images.

To regard Andrei Rublev as one movie (assuming that the general definition of a movie is simply a big chunk of storyline) would do some injustice to the brilliantly unorthodox nature of its narrative, in that it's a collection of eight mini-story lines, all of which can be viewed as individual pieces, and three of which could easily pass as masterpieces in their own right. My personal favourite is the third one; Rublev's dialogue with Theophanes The Greek over the self-destructive nature of humanity is, to me at least, one of the most moving moments on film (this is possibly due to Theophanes voicing an opinion I personally arrived at some time before initially watching this film - and one I unfortunately happen to agree with).

Like most of Tarkovsky's movies, Andrei Rublev demands repeated viewings so the film can be absorbed and understood in full. But by doing so you'll begin to realise that this is possibly the most rewarding of all cinematic works, and consequently the most wonderful. The best film ever made? I certainly think so.

Sign o' the time

[ereinion · 10/10 · 5 February 2005]

This film is impossible to understand at once. You need to watch it at least twice to be able to understand something. At first it seems to be an abstract art-house film about a painter in the 15th century, a film which talks about one artist's plight towards his own ideals in difficult times, a philosophical/historical movie. And it may be the part of the great Tarkovsky's intention.

Yet as you watch it twice you realize that it is also about religion. And about the ideal of man. The first scene clearly shows how man has always strived to reach towards something higher and how he often failed. This film is also about human nature, as always in Tarkovsky's films. We follow Andrei through his dark and troubled times and adventures and of special importance is the Tatar attack part. Here we see Tarkovsky depict the everlasting hunger for power and the effect it can have on a man. The Russian prince betrays his own country and must stand trial to his own conscience after watching the town of Vladimir get destroyed by the horde of wild Tatars. The scene in the church is also of greater significance, as is the river scene with the pagan festival. They all show the conflict of religions and also moral values.

All said, the movie wouldn't be as great without the last part, the one with the boy and the church bell. It illustrates the rebirth of Russia, Christian Russia and the final scene with the hoisting of the bell is one of the best scenes ever in film history. It shows us that faith is a feeble thing;if the bell didn't work, everything would have ended differently. But thanks to a boy's dedication and hard work, the bell tolled and the faith returned to the feeble heads and hearts of people.

The miraculous sudden appearance of color in the very end and the wonderful,solemn music really highlight the ultimate message of this film. Which is-art is sacred and immortal and transcends time.

At the time of its release, I believe only Tarkovsky himself and perhaps Andrey Kontchalovsky, the co-writer, knew just how great a masterpiece this film really is. It has taken the world some time to discover it, but it was worth it. With perfect acting, specially by Anatoli Solonytsin, perfect music, perfect screenplay and perfect direction, what else can I give it but a perfect 10?

A true masterpiece!

[baikal · 10/10 · 2 February 1999]

This movie is set in mediaeval Russia, the world of unspeakable cruelty, poverty and injustice. And yet, this is a profoundly humanistic, profoundly spiritual, profoundly individualistic and profoundly uncompromising film. The photography is absolutely beautiful, mesmerising, original and superb. But it is the anguished soul and conscience of this film and of its main hero that truly make this a great picture.

There are no cliches here, no stereotypes and no sucking up to the audience. A brutally honest and yet very moving, touching and optimistic film. And it is not about the nature of a genius. Rather, it is about a man's ability and duty to preserve and be true to his humanity, his freedom, his soul, his heart and his gift, no matter what century it is or what the circumstances are. Watch it to remind yourself of what it really means to be human.

A masterpiece.

[issamikel · 10/10 · 15 November 2003]

One of the finest films ever made. Films like this are what give the medium its purpose. It is rich, beautifully shot and acted, and extraordinarily powerful. Like all great works of art, it requires many viewings and much thought to discover the various layers of intellectual and aesthetic meaning within it. That is why a simple description of the plot would give the prospective viewer little idea of what the movie is actually about. True, it is the tale of Russia's greatest icon painter. But it is also a rumination on art, the artist, relgion, love, culture, conformity, cruelty, and much more. See it and discuss it with some bright friends.

Arguably the greatest film ever.

[heptaparaparshinokh · 10/10 · 1 February 2005]

Considering the great quantity of films in existence, there are very few that even come close to being considered the greatest of all time. Having seen my share of 'masterpieces' I have come to regard Andrei Rublev as the greatest of them all, although I admit that this is debatable. Nonetheless, this film seems to be stigmatized as being too long or boring - maybe because it's by Tarkovksy, or that it's black and white, or that it's Russian - I really don't know where this comes from. If you can get past any preconceived notions of what the movie is going to be like,and just sit down for a few seconds and watch it, you will probably be able to see from the beginning that this is an extremely important, unmissable film - not to mention captivating and exciting, although very dark and disturbing throughout. The amount of skill and thought, and work that went into this film echoes within the timeless imagery that the director has created. Any serious fan of the cinema would be doing themselves a serious disservice by avoiding this movie any longer. If you interested in the works of Gurdjieff and Ouspensky, you'll be able to take something of another level from this film, as there are many subtle references and parallels to their writings and teachings throughout this movie. It could be argued that the film itself is a cinematic representation of the law of three. Regardless, this is a truly extraordinary thing to behold.

Good but not quite the masterpiece I was expecting

[grantss · 7/10 · 2 October 2018]

The life and times of Andrei Rublev, Russian iconographer of the early-15th century. Over seven periods in his life, spanning 1400 to 1424, we see the history of Russia, the power struggles, the role of the church and religion and Rublev's dedication to his calling.

A bit difficult to review this movie. It is clearly the work of a master craftsman: the exquisite cinematography, the sheer scale of the subject matter and time period, the themes, the obvious adoration director Andrei Tarkovsky has for his subject.

Yet it is often quite a grind to watch: clocks in at well over 3 hours and moves very slowly. Several scenes will go by without development in plot or theme. Furthermore, the separate time periods don't necessarily form a narrative. They often just feel like things happening, with no connection between them.

While acknowledging that the film is well made, I fail to see how it is so highly regarded. I did not come away feeling that I had just watched a masterpiece, something incredibly profound or moving.

Quite possibly the greatest Soviet film ever made

[TheLittleSongbird · 10/10 · 26 December 2014]

Russia have been responsible for some truly fine films, fantasy, animated or otherwise, but Andrei Rublev is truly something special. If there is a Soviet film more visually stunning, powerful, thought-provoking or emotionally profound than Andrei Rublev I've yet to see it. Sure, it may not appeal to all, there have been complaints about the animal torture/killings, the slow pacing and being perplexed by the symbolism but neither were problems for me(but if they are for anybody else that's understandable).

Andrei Rublev looks absolutely stunning for starters, not just of any Soviet film but one of the most beautiful-looking films ever, every angle and frame is perfectly composed and with a hypnotic dream-like quality. The film also contains some of the most jaw-dropping and powerful symbolism of all of film, the casting of the bell was the standout with Rublev's colour montage close behind, but the snow crucifixion, the battle and the balloon flight were also memorable images. Tarkovsky's direction is just impeccable, so much so Andrei Rublev for me has to be one of the best-directed films there is. It's very thoughtfully scripted, the hauntingly exquisite music score is not one to forget, the pacing while deliberately slow beguiles rather than bores or frustrates and the story is powerful, inspirational(in how Rublev struggled to overcome the hardships he faces) and poignant. Not only that, but Russian medieval life has never been captured more authentically on film to the extent that the viewer is drawn right into this world, nothing idealistic or overly stylised here, this is compellingly hard-hitting stuff and not in a sadistic way(to me). Anatoli Solonitsyn commands the screen in the title role with vigour and emotional intensity while Irina Tarkovskaya is like a Russian Giulietta Masina(a regular Federico Fellini leading lady if you're not sure), and that's meant in a good way.

Overall, majestic cinema(a phrase I very rarely use) and a film that film buffs must see if they haven't already. A very easy 10/10. Bethany Cox

a mix of tedium and wonder

[steve.schonberger · 6/10 · 22 July 2000]

The camera work in this movie is wonderful from start to end. Unfortunately, the beauty of the camera work sometimes gets in the way of the story-telling. In almost every scene, the camera lingers beautifully on scenes, so that I both appreciate the visual art and wish the movie would hurry up and tell the story. All of the acting is very good, but it's rarely demanding because the camera owns the scenes, not the actors.

The story is episodic, with little connection between most of the segments except the recurrence of the title character, a 15th century icon-painter. The first episode, about people flying a hot-air balloon, seems to have no connection to the rest. In another episode, Andrei wanders into the frolicking nudity of a pagan summer festival, where his monastery robes make him obviously out of place.

A few of the episodes shared another connection besides having Andrei present. The connection is a pair of twin brothers, both princes, who hate each other. In one of those, a prince guides a band of Tatar horsemen to Vladimir, a town ruled by his brother. He invites the Tatars to loot it, so that in the process they will kill or terrorize many of the other prince's subjects and ruin one of his towns.

One episode can't properly be described without a spoiler warning. Skip the rest of this paragraph unless you like spoilers. It shows a band of workers who, after building a palace for one of the twin princes, set off to work on their next construction job. But their next employer is the prince's brother, who intends to employ them to build an even grander palace. The prince sends horsemen after them, where they blind the unfortunate workers. OK, no more spoilers.

The best episodes are near the end. The main character in one of them is a woman Andrei had rescued during the attack on Vladimir. The woman was mute and somewhat disturbed, possibly as a result of the attack. Similarly, Andrei was deeply troubled by what he had done to rescue her. When Tatars appeared again, she ran to their leader. Andrei tried to rescue her again, but she resisted. Fortunately, she turned out not to need a rescue that time.

The final episode was the best of all, and features the most challenging and impressive acting performance. The teenage son of a bell-maker leads the casting of a huge church bell, because all the other bell-makers had died of the plague, and he is the only one who can be found who knows the secret of bell-making. It's a big job, requiring construction of a casting pit, a mold, melting furnaces, and a structure to lift the finished bell from the pit. He is very nervous, because he's doing an expensive, difficult, uncertain job without his father's guidance, for an employer who might kill him if he fails.

I saw the director's original 205 minute version, on the Criterion DVD. Soviet censors cut the movie, troubled by the allegorical reference to treatment of artists, including movie-makers. Later distributors cut the movie further, to make it accessible to a broader audience. While I would object to cuts for censorship, I think the movie would tell its story better if it were heavily cut for length. Any editing to improve the story-telling would unfortunately come at the cost of some wonderful cinematography, since every scene in the movie was a visual wonder. For all its beauty, I don't think there was even two hours of story-telling in this movie.

As Challenging as a Belief in God...

[Xstal · 5/10 · 4 November 2020]

Paradoxically all that is great and all that is tedious and dull, your perspective, the view you have acquired over previous deliberations on religion, art, Russia, Tarkovsky, abstraction, cinematography, barbarity, storytelling, symbolism and meaning will provide you with your measure of what you have, or are about to witness. I have endured it but once and will, for the time being, disregard the encouragement to revisit, to find what I've missed, to bridge my appreciation. Certainly great cinematography, fine acting, direction and performances but my interest in a 15th century abstraction of the titular character diminished most of the value that gained. Occasionally great but majoritively tedious and exceptionally dull.

Bloody Tarkovsky!

[Gary-161 · 1 February 2000]

He has ruined cinema for me and this is one of the masterpieces that did it. Everytime you see one of his film's you proclaim: "That's the best picture ever made!" Which can't be true as that was the last Tarkovsky film you saw. I've seen this one many times at the cinema and is the best three hours of celluloid you're likely to see apart from Solaris, which is Tarkovsky anyway.

Tarkovsky wanted to make art that would change people's lives and in this he succeeded. Although his life was troubled and his projects clawed into life randomly from the grip of his film studio bosses, when viewed as a whole they seem to be all part of some great plan that was meant to reach fruition right from the start. He believed that ultimately it is best to do things that deepen one's inner life rather than impoverish it. That may explain why you leave most Hollywood films feeling soiled. There are too many great scenes and moments in this astonishing and monumental work to mention so I won't. Suffice it to say it would have been fascinating to have seen what Tarkovsky would have made had he lived and returned from exile to his homeland. Recent events in Russia and the Balkans make this film even more vital and pertinent today.

The trouble is Tarkovsky's films have such extraordinary purity and spiritual depth that no other films seem able to satisfy one in the same way. They seem flat, lifeless and unable to compete. Why watch the let's-pretend-grown ups like Tarantino when you can watch a real grown up? So like I said, Bloody Tarkovsky. He has ruined cinema for me.

At a loss

[TBJCSKCNRRQTreviews · 10/10 · 12 July 2008]

How to describe in words all there is in this? I'm not sure, but I will give it a shot. This is the first piece by the director that I've seen. I don't know much about Russia, their history or the culture(which, I've come to realize, may be a prerequisite to follow it, at least being informed about the time and the place), and I haven't learned the language, but the subtitles(though I understand that apparently not everything is translated) certainly help. The plot is well-told. There is impressive imagery in this, both in the visuals and in the dialog. The latter holds truth and is well-written. Deep, poetic, haunting. The acting is magnificent. There are universal themes herein. The editing and cinematography are excellent. Neither leave much of anything to be desired. The war-scenes are an achievement... so much chaos on the screen, yet when we're meant to focus on something, we do, and anything that's supposed to be noticed, is. There is violent and/or disturbing, but none that felt gratuitous, material in this. There is some nudity in this, and it is not captured in a way as to conceal it. The Andrei Tarkovsky Collection DVD has several features, including interviews, and they are worth watching. I recommend this to anyone interested in the medium of film as an art form. 10/10

Visual Poetry

[mnielsenimdb · 10/10 · 25 August 2001]

This is the most visually moving film I've seen. Until Rublev, I didn't truly understand how stunning and engaging a film could be. The vignettes of Russian life are very thought-provoking, the cinematography the best I've seen, and the result is a film that moves me every time I watch it. Approach it with an open mind, and be prepared for a slowly unfolding story. Do this, and you'll be deeply rewarded and satisfied in a way that few films will ever match.

Russia's history through art

[lee_eisenberg · 10/10 · 18 February 2012]

Andrei Tarkovsky's sweeping epic "Andrei Rublev" (which is really pronounced "Andrei Rublyov") is not just a look at the medieval Russian painter, but really a look at maintaining one's humanity in the face of terror from all sides. Having left his monastery, the title character (Anatoly Solonitsyn) then has to contend with the Tatar invasions. But he never abandons his strength.

The movie was famously cut to hell by the USSR's censors. I guess that they didn't like the focus on religion, although the scene of the pagans probably irritated the Politburo also. Fortunately, nowadays we have the complete movie. One thing that the viewer notices is that the movie is broken up into chapters. One of Tarkovsky's beliefs provides some insight into this: he believed that life consists of different stories, and there needs to be a way to connect them (I don't know if I quoted him right, but it was something like that).

Anyway, this is definitely one of the all-time greats.

Demanding but highly rewarding

[Alexandar · 9/10 · 1 March 2006]

Andrei Rublev (1969)****

After the successful debut with Ivan's Childhood (1962) very talented Russian filmmaker Andrei Tarkovsky decided to shot a picture about the XV Century famous icon painter.

This is not a typical biography film since there are little facts about Rublev. Instead, Tarkovsky used this historic figure to tell some universal truths about mankind in general and Russians in particular.

However, he made a masterpiece. This is very demanding movie that requires multiple viewings to fully grasp its amazing content enriched by extraordinary shots. It's like reading a heavy Dostoyevsky novel – sometimes you must repeat some parts. But, if you are open-minded and concentrated the whole way through you'll be richly rewarded with some brilliantly clever, revealing and meaningful content about human vanity, responsibility and spirituality. Tarkovsky's skill is tremendous, pace is deliberate (in good sense), photography and sounds are breathtaking and acting is superb. You won't find entertainment in this one unless entertainment is profound meditation on human nature. So, if your favorite movie is something like Harry Potter... don't bother with this one.

One for a desert island

[florinc · 10/10 · 2 September 2007]

This movie belongs to the group of artistic achievements that cannot be described by simple words, if by words at all. It is beyond words. True, pure art. One must see it and absorb it. There are no good and/or bad scenes. It is a complete and closed entity. One must see it many times, at various ages. It is like seeing again and again, every morning the same new life long love that makes life meaningful. One discovers every day new light and new images, inside and around. One cannot absorb it in one view, one should not attempt to absorb it in one view, one must not absorb it in one view. This movie is a life long artistic companion. It is precisely because of this richness of experiences that it provides, that I did not tell a single word about the movie. Look at me, at what it did to me, and hope for the like for you.

A haunting film which explores dehumanization

[brianberta · 10/10 · 21 June 2017]

Andrei Tarkovsky is one of my favorite filmmakers of all time. His films evoke mysterious feelings that I rarely find in other movies. Not only do his films have impressive cinematography, but they also come with grand stories despite how simple they seem at first. Since this film was over 3 hours, I was a little concerned that I'd have trouble getting into it. However, I found it to be a truly engaging experience.

A couple decades in the life of the famous medieval Russian painter Andrei Rublev is depicted in this epic. We see his interactions between other painters, buffoons, pagans, and Tatars. These experiences shape and influence his actions over the course of the film.

I first began to pick up on the movie's themes when I asked the question: What caused Andrei to refuse to paint the church walls in Chapter 5? When I re-watched the movie with this in mind, I began to see the movie as a representation of dehumanization. In several of the opening chapters, Andrei witnessed many people either get beaten or killed. He also witnessed several bizarre sites such as seeing a group of naked pagans running through the woods. These experiences effected him in many ways such as how he refused to decorate the walls of a church or how he murdered a Tatar to save someone during a raid. With this, Tarkovsky is saying that the brutality of the world caused Andrei to lose interest in painting.

I also liked the prologue and the final chapter of the film. At first glance, the prologue felt misplaced as the characters in the opening scene were never seen again. However, I think Tarkovsky did this on purpose as he was trying to let the audience know that this was one of the films' most vital scenes. I've seen a few theories on what purpose the opening serves. Some people said that it exists to introduce us to the brutality of the world. My interpretation, however, is that it and the final chapter serve as bookends to Andrei's journey. The opening scene depicts a man named Yefim escape an angry crowd in a hot air balloon only to crash and, presumably, die. The final chapter shows a boy named Boriska attempt to build a bell for the Grand Prince. The thing that Yefim, Andrei, and Boriska have in common is that they are all artists and visionaries in some way as they attempt to overcome odds to create something awe-inspiring. Both of these men bookend Andrei's journey. Yefim represents the death of an old artist while Boriska represents the birth of a new artist. Near the end of the film, Andrei comforts Boriska after he admits that his father never told him the secret to building bells. I interpreted this scene as Andrei trying to encourage the boy to remain interested in art, so he could eventually replace him.

Tarkovsky usually handles dialogue exceptionally. If I pay close attention to the dialogue in his films, I find a lot of it to be thought provoking and powerful. There were many great lines of dialogue in this film. The first great scene of dialogue is in Chapter 3. In it, Andrei has a conversation with Theophanes, another famous Russian painter. Their dialogue shows the main difference between them. During their conversation, Theophanes says "People will lump the blame for their sins on one another...will be justifying themselves before the almighty." Andrei replies to him with "I don't understand how you can paint, having thoughts like that." This scene shows the personality traits of both men. I explained earlier how this film is based heavily on dehumanization. Their conversation is a great representation of this. The reason Theophanes has these thoughts while Andrei doesn't is because Theophanes is much older than Andrei. He has seen more of the world's brutality. Andrei hasn't seen enough of it yet to relate to Theophanes' world views. Another great scene of dialogue happens in Chapter 6. After Andrei survives a raid, he encounters the ghost of Theophanes. Andrei tells Theophanes that he is disgusted by how he killed a Tatar during the raid. He mourns the loss of his work and the evil in the world he lives in. He may not have agreed with Theophanes in Chapter 3, but later on, he eventually concurs with him. The reason for this change is because the numerous instances of brutality Andrei encountered caused him to become dehumanized over time.

The cinematography was also haunting. A lot of classic movies which were praised for their haunting cinematography back in the day don't unsettle me that much. However, there were some legitimately unnerving moments in this movie which held up pretty well. Most of them were in Chapter 6. Some scenes which stood out from that sequence was how liquid metal was poured into someone's mouth, when a horse fell down a flight of stairs, when a cow was lit on fire, and, like I mentioned earlier, the conversation between Andrei and Theophanes. There's also numerous shots of horses which Tarkovsky said were a symbol of life, the most famous of which occurs at the final shot.

In my review of "Stalker", I compared Tarkovsky to Stanley Kubrick, my favorite filmmaker, by calling him the "Russian Kubrick". I feel like this is a valid comparison, because both filmmakers create movies with simple, yet grand stories. The more I watch Tarkovsky's films, the more this viewpoint gets enforced. "Andrei Rublev" sets itself apart from other movies based on true stories due to its thematic power on dehumanization, which is carried from the first half to the next.

Soviet epic

[SnoopyStyle · 7/10 · 15 July 2018]

Andrei Rublev is a celebrated 15th century Russian icon painter. This is a series of vignettes related to his biography. Honestly, I wouldn't have watched it if not for its inclusion in the top 250 list. It's definitely an academic necessity for any film fans. The first part has an adventurer test riding a hot air balloon while a superstitious mob rush to stop him. It's surreal and sets the tone of this movie as an ongoing tragedy. The second part is just as tragic. Andrei and his friends are traveling. They take shelter in a village where they are entertained by a jester. Soldiers arrest him for his dissident material. The third part is where I faded. While the first two parts laid down the tone, it doesn't explain our main characters. By the third part, I lose the thread to these characters. I'm not connecting with them. The movie gets epic in part five. It's definitely big and I think a horse gets killed for real. There are some eye-opening scenes and true devastation. Overall, this movie gives a general feel of the era. It lays out the never-ending Russian tragic sensibility. The missing part is that I lose the characters. I don't feel for them. If Russian cinema is your thing, this one is a must.

A great intellectual epic

[MOscarbradley · 10/10 · 21 June 2006]

Andrei Tarkovsky's great epic is about events that occurred in and around the life of the 15th century Russian icon painter Andrei Roublev. It is not about the life of Roublev himself and, unlike other films about artists, it is certainly not about Roublev in the act of creation. Tarkovsky saves his creations to the end of the film in a series of tableaux in colour, (the film is in black-and-white), of Roublev's genius. Divided into a series of chapters, it touches on those significant events to which Roublev was a witness and although the historical episodes are presented with an uncanny attention to detail, it is more with the spiritual and metaphysical elements that Tarkovsky concerns himself.

Roublev's journey through life is a deeply religious one but he is continually questioning and rediscovering his faith. His own inherent goodness is tested by the evils of the world around him. Even within the enclosed order of monks there is jealousy, envy, arrogance and doubt; so rather than being an account of the life of Roublev the film can be seen as a discourse on the thoughts and beliefs of it's creator.

In cinematic terms it is an extraordinary amalgam of form and ideas. Tarkovsky composes the film with the bravura of an old master, (you can see the influence of Ford as well as Eisenstien in the compositions). Films made today just don't measure up. Made in 1966, Tarkovsky made no concessions to either popular taste or to the direction which international cinema was going. It is, on the one level, art-house cinema of a deeply reflective kind while on another level it is an accessible historical epic that works on a visual, as well as a visceral, level. Mind-blowing in the very best sense of the word.

a very long film about bearded men

[hbraun · 6/10 · 22 February 2001]

I was a little disappointed, having read the euphoric user-comments, and then seeing the movie. Well, the camerawork is very good and some pictures are really impressing - but there's no real story or characters you care for, apparently pure allegory. A lot of bearded men, some telling boring religious monologues, an icon-painter who almost never paints anything, a young un-bearded bell-builder, a lot of more or less cruel medieval things happen, but there's no real connection. And the film is indeed very long........

So boring I wanted to die...

[MaskedMovieMan666 · 2/10 · 10 November 2018]

Andrei Rublev is the most boring movie I have ever seen in my entire life. Tarkovsky's use of abstract storytelling may work for some people, but it did not work for me. It didn't work for me here, and it didn't work for me in the last movie I watched of his called Stalker. Abstract storytelling can work in a specific context. Eraserhead comes to mind. But while that movie had the decency of now being very long and having plenty of striking visual imagery to keep me entertained, Andrey Rublev is essentially a slowly paced three hour drama, with no interesting story or characters at all.

To really show what I mean by this I want to talk a bit about the last hour. The last hour is basically just a boy, whom we had never seen to this point and know nothing about, building a bell for a local prince. What?!?!

The movie never spends time with its characters, not even the title one, so that we can get to know or care about them. The story is not told in any kind of a traditional sense, which as I stated earlier can work fine depending on the type of film, but when doing a biopic you wan't to stay a bit more on track.