Solyaris (1972)

Note Générale:

8,0/10   

Réalisateur:

Andrei Tarkovsky

Scénaristes:

Stanislaw Lem (novel)
Fridrikh Gorenshtein (screenplay) ...

Date de sortie:

20 mars 1972 (Soviet Union)

Genre:

Drame | Mystère | Romance | Science-Fiction

Intrigue:

The Solaris mission has established a base on a planet that appears to host some kind of intelligence...

Plot Keywords:

Scientist | Psychologist | Ocean | Space Station | Hallucination

Récompenses:

2 wins & 2 nominations

Avis des utilisateurs:

The magic of not knowing where we're going....

Ensemble

Natalya Bondarchuk	...	Hari
Donatas Banionis	...	Kris Kelvin
Jüri Järvet	...	Dr. Snaut
Vladislav Dvorzhetsky	...	Henri Berton
Nikolai Grinko	...	Kelvin's Father
Anatoli Solonitsyn	...	Dr. Sartorius
Sos Sargsyan	...	Dr. Gibarian (as S. Sarkisyan)
Olga Barnet	...	Kelvin's Mother (as O. Barnet)
Tamara Ogorodnikova	...	Aunt Anna
Georgi Tejkh	...	Prof. Messenger (as G. Tejkh)
Yulian Semyonov	...	Chairman at Scientific Conference (as Yu. Semyonov)
Olga Kizilova	...	Gibarian's Guest (as O. Kizilova)
reste de la distribution par ordre alphabétique:
Vitalik Kerdimun		(as V. Kerdimun)
Tatyana Malykh
Aleksandr Misharin		(as A. Misharin)
Bagrat Oganesyan		(as B. Oganesyan)
V. Statsinsky
Valentina Sumenova		(as V. Sumenova)

Autre(s) titre(s):

Solaris (UK) (USA)
Солярис (Soviet Union: Russian title)

Durée:

165 min | Italy:115 min (first release)

Pays:

Soviet Union

Langue:

Allemand | Russe

Couleur:

Noir et Blanc | Couleur (Sovcolor)

Rapport de forme:

2,35 : 1

Son:

Mono

Classification:

Australia:M (DVD rating) | Portugal:M/12 | USA:TV-G (cable rating) | Argentina:13 | Australia:PG | Chile:14 | Finland:S | Sweden:15 | UK:PG | USA:PG | West Germany:12 | South Korea:15 | UK:A (original rating) | Hong Kong:I | Singapore:PG

Lieux de tournage:

Akasaka, Minato, Japan

Société:

Creative Unit of Writers & Cinema Workers

Anecdotes:

In Lem's novel, Hari is spelt "Harey", an anagram of Rheya. This is probably a reference to the titan "Rhea", who was mother of the Gods in Greek mythology, and which is also the name of a moon of Saturn. Rhea was the wife of Cronus/Saturn (the ruler of time), and the sister of Oceanus (Solaris is an ocean planet) and Tethys, a sea goddess, as well as the mother of Poseidon/Neptune; her parents were Uranus (the sky god) and Gaia (the earth goddess).

Goofs:

Continuité: In the Library during and immediately after Dr. Snaut's birthday party, the heights of the candles and the center post of the candelabra change between shots.

Guillemet:

Kris Kelvin: Guibariane did not die of fear, he died out of shame. The salvation of humanity is in its shame!

Connexions:

Référencé sur Tempo di viaggio (1983) (TV)

Bande son:

Ich ruf' zu dir, Herr Jesu Christ

The magic of not knowing where we're going....

Like the majority of reviewers here, I rate this film as one of the most profound viewing experiences I can remember. While the IMDb guidelines recommend avoiding reference to specific reviews of Solaris within this section, I strongly believe that there is much to be learnt about this movie by evaluating those reviews as a whole.

This is clearly either a love or a hate movie. Those who love it describe in detail its effect on them, the feelings it evokes, its significance and the depth of its philosophical enquiry. Those who hate it largely describe it as too slow-paced; boring.

What matters to me about this film which I first watched as mesmerised 15 year old is that it is almost entirely the antithesis of Classical Hollywood cinema. It came from behind the Iron Curtain (that dark place whose strange and hidden 'otherness' has, like the plot of any modern movie, now also been laid wide open by capitalist 'democracy'). Its actors were unknown - more like real people than the celebrities the West populates its movies with. Its pace was slow, mesmeric, hypnotic and atmospheric. It was completely free of the kind of 'good triumphs over evil' motif that riddles Hollywood film-making, where 'good' is white-ness, wealth, youth, Westernness and so on.

The pleasure of Solaris was that I didn't know what I was watching. I didn't know who I was watching. I didn't know the culture it reflected and - most importantly - I didn't know what was going to happen.

Perhaps its only in re-watching the 1971 Solaris that it becomes apparent to me that somewhere along the way we have been stripped of the right to not know; robbed of the true narrative thrill of being led into the dark, magical forest of the unknown.