Italy is a very attractive place for filmmakers, because of its art, architecture, the lighting, and also film history. Many filmmakers go to Italy and immerse themselves in the people and the culture, the light and the atmosphere. Tarkovsky goes to Italy and he makes it as dank, dark, and unpopulated as he makes Russia. And, while in Italy, he has a few things to say about Italians--to explain Russia.

"Then you can't understand Italy, because you're not Italian." A poet goes to Italy to research into the biography of a Russian composer who stayed there for two years, and his life parallels that of the composer. Just so, Tarkovsky's life parallels that of the main character, who is also called Andrei: left in Italy surrounded by so much "beauty it's sickening", he becomes haunted by flashbacks of his family in Russia. Trying unsuccessfully to communicate with his translator (get it?) and striking a metaphysical relationship with a local mystic, Andrei the character struggles with the typical Tarkovskian themes of faith, fire, personal loss, and water, among others.

Tarkovsky is up to some well-rehearsed tricks here. Long takes with an impossibly smooth floating camera dedicate the viewer's eyes to the imagery. The weather is under the same amount of control. A character enters a new space (here it's Italy; in Stalker it's the Zone; in Solyaris it's the space station; in Andrei Rublev it's the society outside the church),and only through intense emotional and philosophical struggle can he prepare himself to return to where he's come from. Thresholds stand tantalizingly around, but don't often get passed (Andrei can walk through a door that leads nowhere with no problem, but can only cross a pool with a candle with immense physical struggle). Spaces are separated by black and white and sepia tones. God is always there but never for you.

There's some new tricks, too. Tarkovsky plays with light a lot in this one, and frames that seem to sink into pure black suddenly illuminate hidden images and icons. A compelling sonic disturbance is created in flashbacks to Russia that sound like a table-saw grinding away at wood; "The Music" the mystic speaks of is warped and fragmented vinyl.

Nostalghia, I feel, is not the Tarkovsky movie you want to see first. First see Stalker, or Solyaris, or Mirror. Nostalghia removes the transition from Russia to Italy and so the feeling of transition and change is a lot more dependent on the symbolic and abstract sensibilities, and previous knowledge of Tarkovsky's imagery will help to interpret it. For fans of Tarkovsky, however, Nostalghia is a sweet and personal return into his dense and foggy mind (or house, as Chris Marker calls it),the world that only he was able to fully explore.

--PolarisDiB

While I do rank Andrei Rublev(the greatest Soviet film ever made from personal view),Mirror(Tarkovsky's most personal) and Stalker above it, Nostalgia doesn't disappoint in any way; coming from a director who was one of the few who did not make a bad film, even my least favourite Ivan's Childhood was great and contains one of the best child performances ever.

Nostalgia is not for everybody, despite being one of his shortest it is one of Tarkovsky's least accessible along with Solaris. People will be captivated by the photography, the symbolism and direction amongst other things while others will find the slow pacing too much for them, mightn't completely understand what's going on or maybe find it repetitive. As said already, this viewer is one of those people who considers it another Tarkovsky masterpiece. It's not a Tarkovsky film without beautiful visuals and imagery and great directing and Nostalgia absolutely has both. The mix of black and white and colour are truly striking while the photography(the most interesting being the lengthy but hypnotic lighted candle sequence) like all Tarkovsky films is some of the most stunning and arresting seen for any film. Tarkovsky's direction as ever is exemplary even late in his career, despite being his first Non-Soviet film Tarkovsky's unique style is unmistakable. The symbolism is fairly straightforward and still powerful.

Nostalgia's music score is hauntingly melancholic and the dialogue is thoughtful and subtle, the desolation of art speech contains some of the most thought-provoking dialogue of any Tarkovsky film. With the story, the slow pacing did not bother me at all. Quite the opposite, because a lot of parts were so dream-like and mystical it was so easy to be captivated by it. The story itself is one of Tarkovsky's most personal(second only to Mirror) and has its fair share of emotional power, if not as much as Andrei Rublev and Solaris. The characters carry the film well and the performances are fine, Oleg Yankovsky is a compelling lead and Erland Josephson is appropriately distinguished and better than he is given credit for here. Overall, not one of Tarkovsky's best but doesn't disappoint at all. 10/10 Bethany Cox

Oddly, I found Tarkovsky's NOSTALGIA to be one of his more accessible movies despite the languid pacing and lack of 'meat' in the narrative structure. It's about a Russian poet touring Italy who ends up meeting a mentally ill fellow and becoming strangely drawn to him. It's the type of film that makes you question the notions of reality and fantasy, civilisation and chaos, and it has an effective dream-like atmosphere. I found the subdued performances rather uninteresting, but Tarkovsky's camera captures some unforgettable imagery, particularly at the climax.