Мать и сын (Mother and son, 1997)

When I say that Mother and son, one of Aleksandr Sokurov's films from the 90's, remind me of Tarkovsky, you will probably think that this is a sloppy and tired comment. Of course. But the first thing I thought about when I watched the opening scenes was Stalker*. And, indeed, even though the two films have little in common with regards to story, Tarkovsky & Sokurov, in these films, pay close attention to nature and its movements, colors and sounds. If you've seen Stalker, you remember the spooky creaks and indefinable sounds of the Zone, the place where even the laws of nature have lost some ground. Tarkovsky makes a puddle of water, or a roaming dog, stand out like a revelation, something sacred.

Sokurov has the same gift: in one scene, located in the sun-drenched woods, a fly suddenly dominates the scene with its buzzing sound. There are two characters in his film; the dying mother and her son who tenderly takes care of her. Then there's a third actor: the wind. It howls, whispers, wheezes, breathes, gushes, hums and roars. The intimacy between mother and son is contrasted with the unruliness and grandeur of nature. That said, I never get the impression that Sokurov depicts nature as impersonal or indifferent - nature is life, smells, sounds, light. Visually, there's not so many links between Mother and son and Tarkovsky. Sokurov's film creates scenes which resemble impressionistic oil paintings (somewhat in the same vein as Barry Lyndon), while he also experiments with angles and perspectives, which add some tension to the pictures, which seldom are left static.

The story is stripped of everything inessential. A mother and a son. She is dying. He talks to her about a dream he had. He carries her outside, and she rests on a bench. He shows her a couple of photographs. There is no reference to time or place. It could be anywhere, fifty years ago, or last year. Few films have dwelled so intensely on the physical aspect of relations: the son combs his mother's hair, carries her up the dusty road, holds her hand, and everything is portrayed with slow, long shots. There is, I would say, nothing artsy or self-indulgent about this film (even though what I've said might have made you think so). It is a very, very simple film about death and nature, more a visual poem than a narrative in the traditional sense.

Sokurov also directed the overwhelming Русский ковчег (Russian ark/2002). Regrettably, I haven't seen any of his other films.

* Recently, I happened to come upon the manuscript (translated to Swedish) on which the movie Stalker is based. I read half of it at the library, but couldn't go through with it - it was so funny. Can you believe it? Funny! Tarkovsky did certainly change one or two things as he went about making the film.