When I discovered Tarkovsky, I was 17 years old. I ran to my mother and told her: "Look, look what I found... it's slow, you have to observe." I was so euphoric that I didn't even notice it wasn't the right moment, because she was eating, and Tarkovsky requires complete attention. It felt like I had discovered someone in the world who understood me. The movie I was trying to show her was Stalker, which I had already watched twice. I had downloaded it by mistake instead of a video game of the same name: by mistake... think about how much change a mistake can bring... because from that day on, my life took a drastic turn. I had never seen anything like it before; I didn't even think that certain cinema existed. But it did exist, and it came from Russia. I was so taken by it that I started studying Russian just to rewatch the films in their original language... needless to say, I abandoned the mission. I didn't have enough guts, time, or drive to delve into a language as complex as that, so to this day I've had to settle for translations, dubbing, and subtitles.
However, I was so enthusiastic that someone, over a beer, suggested I go study cinema at university. On the spot, I liked the idea, and indeed I decided to enroll the following year... too bad, though, that upon completing my studies, I didn't appreciate anything else besides Tarkovsky, and I was even forced to end my relationship with cinema in general, which I haven't followed or watched since.
My history with cinema was strictly my history with Tarkovsky, nothing more and nothing less. Apart from a brief love affair with film noir—which also became the subject of my degree thesis—there was no other relationship besides that one. I loved nothing else. It all felt like bait to me... a hook hanging in the sea of existence. Cinema struck me as a clever trap, an entertaining monstrosity... a distraction to escape the here and now, a consolation, a distraction to pass the time. With Tarkovsky, on the other hand, I had to admit that I felt more alive. I watched his films to relax, I watched them to reconnect with the earth, with living itself, with the very sense of being here... because I loved the way he filmed things, slowly... giving you the time to fully absorb them, to transcend them.
With Tarkovsky I realized I wasn't the only one looking at things in a certain way—slowly, savoring them down to the atom and beyond. Without ever losing sight of the awareness of being present.
Right after that, I also bought Solaris... and watched it twice... 6 hours straight. In that moment, I understood myself a little bit more, and realized my path wasn't wrong, just a different path that needed to be embraced.
