No movie reviews tonight. I am only reporting on what I am doing - Stalking into the Zone. Tarkovsky is always good for a few laughs late at night. Cato watched this one recently and asked me about it. Just like old times.
Like most Tarkovsky films, they seem to be recalled as dreams from a faraway time. I remembered the beginning being very slow, but that's probably just because I was high on drugs, or coming down from them. I used to spend weeks in my apartment ingesting cinema, or classic boxing matches, when I could not summon the strength to go out and drink.
Is it healthy to watch such films during a time like this? I don't know. A film about experiencing your desires raises some questions about the value of desires, and as such, life itself.
It is a long film. Perhaps I will not make it through all of it tonight. Breaking it up over two nights is no good, either. Its invitation to contemplation should be continuous to achieve the desired effect. The narrative can be returned by a connecting in the mind, by will and memory, but the mood is built across linear time. That is part of Tarkovsky's magic, few others came anywhere close.
Writing this while I am reading the film presents yet another impediment to enjoyment.
I should go.
I used to think that maybe this song was in part about Stalker, the references to the Zone, but now I tend to doubt it.
I didn't make it to the Zone. I became tired and, at first, stopped reading along with the film. Soon, I wasn't watching it any more, either. There is no point in listening to a Tarkovsky film in Russian. I turned off the film, promising to return to it tomorrow, though I know that diminishes its purpose. Tarkovsky made it clear that he hated viewers such as myself. Who can blame him.