Pilgrimage on celluloid: Remembering Russian auteur Andrey Tarkovsky

In the pantheon of world cinema, certain names do not merely occupy space, they define it — Charlie Chaplin, Federico Fellini, Ingmar Bergman, Akira Kurosawa, Robert Bresson, Satyajit Ray and, among them, towering like a colossus, Russian auteur Andrey Tarkovsky. A filmmaker who refused to bow to trends, Tarkovsky transformed cinema from spectacle into sacrament, crafting works that remain meditations on time, memory, and the human soul. His films were not stories to be consumed but prayers to be lived — haunting, lyrical and inexhaustibly profound.

When Tarkovsky passed away in December 1986, the world lost not merely a filmmaker but a philosopher-poet of cinema — a visionary who elevated the medium into a spiritual language. Nearly four decades later, his presence looms larger than ever. This truth resonated in Delhi during two landmark screenings — a rare documentary, co-created with Italian poet Tonino Guerra during the making of ‘Nostalghia’, at the Italian Embassy Cultural Centre, and ‘Cinema as a Prayer’, an intimate homage by his son, Andrey A Tarkovskiy, at the India Habitat Centre.

“My father always admired India,” recollected Andrey, his voice a measured blend of pride and longing. “He had a deep oriental sensibility — almost like oriental Christianity. He practised yoga all his life. There was always this pull towards the East. Sadly, he never managed to visit India. For me, coming here is an honour, something he couldn’t do.”

Tarkovsky’s cinema — ‘Ivan’s Childhood’, ‘Andrei Rublev’, ‘Solaris’, ‘Mirror’, ‘Stalker’, ‘Nostalghia’, and his swansong, ‘The Sacrifice’ — remains the ultimate antidote to the disposable nature of contemporary imagery. His works are living texts, open to rediscovery with every generation.

“Even now, 40 years later, people speak about Tarkovsky with incredible freshness,” Andrey observed. “Young students rediscover him every year. This is not archaeology. It’s about spiritual search — something we desperately need today when everything feels so difficult, so complicated. Art is the only language that unites us.”

Indeed, Tarkovsky’s cinema is universal. It transcends geography and ideology, forging a dialogue between cultures. Andrea Anastasio, director of the Italian Embassy Cultural Centre, framed it succinctly: “When you watch Tarkovsky, you engage with ethical questions central to our time. It’s a dissident voice with a fantastic understanding of humanity.”

The first screening, a documentary made during the shooting of ‘Nostalghia’ in Italy, captured an artist grappling with exile and the weight of spiritual longing. ‘Nostalghia’ (1983) itself is a tone poem of alienation, its mist-laden landscapes echoing the ache of displacement. It was in Italy that Tarkovsky’s friendship with Guerra deepened, shaping this extraordinary meditation on memory and home.

The second screening, ‘Cinema as a Prayer’, is Andrey’s deeply personal work. “I was only 16 when he died,” he recalled. “There was a beginning of a dialogue between us — abruptly interrupted. This film was my attempt to recreate that inner dialogue, to see if my ideas correspond with his. And they do. His vision of the world feels even more prophetic now — about politics, ecology, everything he warned about is coming true.”

He paused, then added, “‘The Sacrifice’ was my father’s farewell. Remember Alexander speaking to his child? It was a monologue because the child couldn’t answer. My film is my answer.”

This reflection anchored a larger truth: Tarkovsky’s cinema was never bound by time. Consider ‘Ivan’s Childhood’ (1962), his debut feature, where war is seen through the fragile consciousness of a child. Or ‘Andrei Rublev’ (1966), a monumental chronicle of art and faith, restored recently in breathtaking detail — a pilgrimage on celluloid through the moral wilderness of medieval Russia. Or ‘Solaris’ (1972), which transposed metaphysics into the realm of science fiction, asking questions no technology could answer. And then there is ‘Stalker’ (1979), a journey into a forbidden zone, part allegory, part fever dream, where faith flickers like a dying ember yet refuses extinction. The film eerily predicted aspects of the actual 1986 Chernobyl disaster and its aftermath.

In his loosely autobiographical masterpiece, ‘Mirror’ (1975), Tarkovsky beautifully used the poetry of his father, Arseny Tarkovsky. The film also featured Andrey Tarkovsky’s wife, Larisa Tarkovskaya, and mother, Maria Vishnyakova. Each film resists interpretation even as it demands it.

In crafting ‘Cinema as a Prayer’, Andrey collaborated with people who knew his father intimately. “Michal Leszczylowski, who co-edited ‘The Sacrifice’, and my cousin, Aleksey Naydenov, director of photography, who assisted on ‘Mirror’ — it was like an amour-court,” he smiled. That warmth tempered the enormity of his task. “It’s a responsibility,” he admitted softly, “but also a joy. To keep his spirit alive, not as a monument of the past, but as a living, breathing force.”

The Andrey Tarkovsky International Institute, located in Florence and helmed by him, is the crucible for this mission, restoring classics like ‘Andrei Rublev’ for new audiences. These restorations are not mere acts of preservation but resurrections — each frame a relic infused with new light. Anastasio complemented this vision with a cultural note: “Culture is what you inherit, and what you create through interaction. That’s why we also had the Duo Gazzana sisters performing an eclectic programme spanning Italy, Europe, and India. Their inclusion of an Indian composition acknowledged the multiplicity of voices defining our world.”

As dusk settled over Delhi during these events, the anticipation transformed into fulfilment. These screenings were not retrospectives; they were rituals. For those who entered Tarkovsky’s world — where time flows like memory, where landscapes are metaphors for the soul — the reward was nothing less than a glimpse of eternity. “After watching Tarkovsky,” Andrey concluded, “it’s easier to understand each other — whether you are in Japan, India, Russia, or anywhere. Art is the only language that unites us.”

In that quiet assertion lay the enduring truth of Andrey Tarkovsky’s cinema: a cinema that still prays, still listens, and still answers.

— The writer has served on the jury of various film festivals as well as National Film Awards