Review: Stalker
The man of faith, the empirical man of science, and the neurotic writer stand at the precipice of human understanding. They are tormented by the questions that have driven them for their entire lives but are terrified of what the answer might be. Such is the paradoxical nature of the human condition. We are driven by our innermost desires to seek out the existence of objective truths in the universe but we are too terrified of our own nature to confront the answers to these questions. The writer seeks his truths from the inside out, deconstructing the complexities of the human condition in the hopes of finding absolute truths. A man of science seeks outward stimulation and strict empirical observation practices to sort out the rules of the natural world, meanwhile burdened by the knowledge that the instruments that aid our observation are imperfect and humanity lacks the acumen to observe more than a small fraction of reality. The man of faith seeks out the same truths as the writer and the scientist but does so with an innocence and spiritual malleability. Society will deem the stalker as broken because of his inability to live within the confines of ignorant objectivity as he resigns himself to being the guide through that which cannot be known. Each of them represents a portion of humanity and the wildly different ways that we each suffer in quiet desperation, tortured by questions we have no desire to have answered.
Stalker is a film that understands the fragile nature of humanity. Though we may believe ourselves to be capable of great understanding of the nature of the world and elevated in our abilities of artistic expression, we are ultimately a strange and beautiful amalgam of innocence and corruption, understanding and naivety, emptiness and existential torture. We have no idea what our ultimate purpose is, nor do we understand the importance or reasons for our own existence. This emptiness of purpose drives our every action as a species. Civilization exists to facilitate the seekers and purveyors of truth and to aid them on their quest so that we may one day benefit from the results of their struggle. We preoccupy ourselves with the tortures of everyday life so that we can try and forget how small and insignificant we are. We may never find the answers we seek because we really aren’t even sure what questions we should be asking. Such is the nature of human existence. We all just have to learn how to mitigate the turmoil as best we can.
So as I try to work out my own existential torture with the pretentious ineptitude that is this review, I would be remiss not to talk about the power of the imagery in the film. Tarkovsky knows how to find and capture alien worlds that posses an eerie inhospitable quality despite the fact that they are seemingly teeming with life and are found on our own planet. His natural landscapes are unsettling in their sickly greens and browns and one is convinced of the dangerous mysteries of The Zone. The natural grasses and plant life that occupy these landscapes seem to breath and quietly wait with sinister intent anyone foolhardy enough to step foot in their realm. Through his mastery of the image we are convinced in the power of The Zone and are able to become emotionally and intellectually invested in the content of the film. Believing in the imagery of the film lends power to the mysteries within and we find ourselves on the precipice of ultimate understanding, but like the stalker, writer, and scientist that act as three avatars of humanity, we find ourselves unable to step through the door.
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