There is no absolute standard that qualifies a film as an “art film”. As such a film can be considered art when it is the result of the careful construction of frames rendering it artful, but it is also art when the film is simply the expression of what the filmmaker beholds with his inner eye as an artist. One film that is widely considered an art film is Andrei Tarkovsky’s The Mirror (1975). The film recounts a young man’s life not only as a function of what happens to him and who he meets, but also through his emotions. The art behind the film, as the name implies, is the manner in which the film has been made, which is by investigating the inner workings of a human mind as a literal reflection. In other words, the viewer only catches glimpses of the main character of the film, but comes to know him only as a reflection of his life. Despite the absence of the physical presence of the character, Tarkovsky’s style of crafting each frame ensures that the presence of the character is always felt and the viewer does not have the feeling of missing something.
Although the plot and even the central idea behind the film are not entirely clear, a mixture of narration and camera movement in each scene conveys the story to the viewer. Tarkovsky interviews the character about his memories and shoots these scenes in black and white, while filming what the character in the film is currently seeing and experiencing in color. This combination of duality of filming and listening to the voices of the main character as well as narration creates the story for the viewer. In the same way that the viewer catches only physical glimpses of the main character’s persona, the viewer learns about the main character’s mind in bits and pieces. As a result, the viewer gradually comes to the conclusion that the main character is dying and that The Mirror is both a metaphorical and literal reflection on life.
Tarkovsky’s incorporation of camera movement also serves to include the viewer in the frames of the film. This use of movement provides a certain personality and “sense of being” to the camera. In other words, the camera is not just a stationary object that observes the actions of the actors and movement in the scene, but rather the camera itself has a personality and plays a role in each frame. In addition to the movement of the camera, a significant amount of Tarkovsky’s shots are also exceptionally long takes. The use of long takes keeps the viewer’s attention engaged and gives the viewer the feeling that s/he is present in the scene, which adds to the feeling of inclusion. This feeling of presence also translates into a sense of omniscience, almost as if the scene were just another part of the viewer’s everyday life. In addition, the almost slow motion like feel in some of these long takes further allows the viewer to take a step back from the motion of the film and really focus on the elements and people in the scene.
Finally, Tarkovsky also uses repetition to great effect. Several times throughout the film, Tarkovsky repeats certain scenes, which creates a haunting sense of déjà vu that influences the composition of the film as a whole. For example, Tarkovsky repeats a particular black and white scene in which the viewer sees trees and bushes blown about in a strong wind, and then as the camera pans over to a stone table several objects begin to fall over ostensibly also because of the wind. The repetition of the scene allows the viewer to slowly grasp that the scene is a metaphor for the slow death and chaotic existence of the main character.
The Mirror is not a linear film, the meaning or intention of which is grasped as a function of the unfolding of events. In fact, at first glance, The Mirror may even seem out of order and “random”. However, therein lays the art. The Mirror is a view into the interior world of Tarkovsky’s subconscious. It is an exploration of life and death through filters and metaphor. The very fact that the viewer witnesses the world that Tarkovsky wants to reveal through Tarkovsky rather than through a physical main character that leads us through the story lays bare Tarkovsky’s most intimate musings and recollections. True art does precisely that. It provides a view into the artist’s beliefs, fears, and longings in a manner that many times is difficult to glean immediately, but rather requires travelling through the labyrinth of the artist’s mind and exiting maybe a bit confused, but with enough bits and pieces to leave us wondering for a long while.
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