Зеркало

a film by Andrei Tarkovsky

Pyatigorsk, summer 1981. I went to see Зеркало (Mirror) together with my brother and my cousin — thanks to the latter who found out about the film’s screening in a regional newspaper. Зеркало was unlike any film, Soviet or foreign, that I’ve seen until then. I was blown away. The same cannot be said about most of the audience, I’m afraid.

It so happened that the following year, Margarita Terekhova came to my school in Odintsovo. (It was fairly typical for Soviet celebrities including writers, actors and cosmonauts to visit schools and meet with the students.) She was best known for her roles of Diana from The Dog in the Manger and Milady from D’Artagnan and Three Musketeers. Most of the evening Margarita Borisovna was speaking about her work in TV and theatre; in the end, there was some time for questions. I raised my hand and asked her: “Could you tell us please a bit about your work with Tarkovsky?” The awkward silence ensued. Terekhova clearly did not expect that question from a 15-years-old boy. The rest of the audience, teachers and students alike, had no idea who I was talking about and asked each other in whispers: “Who?”, “What?” [1]. Finally, Terekhova thanked me for an “interesting question” and said that sure, of course, but it would take two evenings like this one, you know, but maybe, who knows, we can do that in the future...

I have to disappoint my readers: there never was another opportunity to meet her and hear about Tarkovsky. However, as a result of that meeting, I temporarily became a minor celebrity in our school. They kept asking me, what was the name of that director again? Luckily, after a week or two, they left me in peace.

Зеркало remains my favourite of all Tarkovsky’s films. In Russia, I never lived in a traditional country house like the one in the movie (the house we lived in Finland five years ago was more like it); yet, through some magic, it became the idea of my childhood home.

This time, we went to watch the film with Timur. Although he confessed that it is “a little weird”, he seemed to like it overall and especially the wartime sequence with Asafiev, an orphan boy who interprets the drill command Кругом! (“About face!”) as a 360° turn. Just like it was the case with Андрей Рублёв last week, I discovered no “new” (I mean, forgotten) bits; but I was pleased to realise that I understand the dialogue in the scene with Spanish immigrants (in the Mirror’s “now”), one of whom appears to be a big fan of matador Palomo Linares [2].

Life, Life is a poem by Arseni Tarkovsky, the director’s father. In the film, it is narrated by the author over the wartime footage of Sivash crossing followed by Asafiev climbing the hill in a visual quote of Pieter Bruegel’s painting The Hunters in the Snow.

Арсений Тарковский	Arseni Tarkovsky
Жизнь, жизнь	Life, Life translation by Alex Nemser and Nariman Skakov
I Предчувствиям не верю и примет Я не боюсь. Ни клеветы, ни яда Я не бегу. На свете смерти нет. Бессмертны все. Бессмертно всё. Не надо Бояться смерти ни в семнадцать лет, Ни в семьдесят. Есть только явь и свет, Ни тьмы, ни смерти нет на этом свете. Мы все уже на берегу морском, И я из тех, кто выбирает сети, Когда идет бессмертье косяком. II Живите в доме — и не рухнет дом. Я вызову любое из столетий, Войду в него и дом построю в нём. Вот почему со мною ваши дети И жены ваши за одним столом — А стол один и прадеду и внуку: Грядущее свершается сейчас, И если я приподнимаю руку, Все пять лучей останутся у вас. Я каждый день минувшего, как крепью, Ключицами своими подпирал, Измерил время землемерной цепью И сквозь него прошёл, как сквозь Урал. III Я век себе по росту подбирал. Мы шли на юг, держали пыль над степью; Бурьян чадил; кузнечик баловал, Подковы трогал усом, и пророчил, И гибелью грозил мне, как монах. Судьбу свою к седлу я приторочил; Я и сейчас, в грядущих временах, Как мальчик, привстаю на стременах. Мне моего бессмертия довольно, Чтоб кровь моя из века в век текла. За верный угол ровного тепла Я жизнью заплатил бы своевольно, Когда б её летучая игла Меня, как нить, по свету не вела.	1 I don’t believe in presentiments, and signs Don’t frighten me. I run from neither slander Nor poison. In the world, there is no death: All are immortal. Everything is immortal. One should not be afraid of death at seventeen, Nor seventy. There is neither gloom nor death In this world, only clarity and light. We are all already on the shore of the sea, And I am one of those who pulls in nets, When immortality swims by like a shoal. 2 Live in a house — and the house won’t collapse. I will summon any of the centuries, I will enter it and build a house in it. Here is why your children and your wives Are seated with me at a single table, — At a single table, your ancestor and grandson: The coming time is being enacted now, And if I raise my arm up just a little, All five of the rays will remain with you. I propped up every day of the past, Supporting with my collarbones. I measured time with a surveying chain, And passed through it, as if through the Urals. 3 I picked the age according to my stature. Going south, we held dust over the steppe; The tall weeds smoked; the grasshopper made mischief, Touched horseshoes with its whisker, and prophesied, And threatened me with destruction, like a monk. I fastened my fate to the saddle; And now, in the coming times, like a boy, I raise myself up halfway in the stirrups. For me my immortality is enough, That my blood should flow from age to age. For a faithful corner of unchanging warmth I would pay wilfully with my own life, Whenever its flying needle Would lead me, like a thread, around the world.

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1. Back then I did not quite understand what was going on, why in the Soviet Union they built a wall of silence around the best film director the country had. Earlier that year, Tarkovsky went to film Nostalghia in Italy; although it was not in his plans to stay there for good, he was never to return to the USSR.
2. During the Spanish Civil War, thousands of children were evacuated from the Republican zone, including to the Soviet Union. They were not allowed to return to Spain until after Stalin’s death.