User Reviews

This is a mind-blowing film that is very hard to say something about but I will try my best:

First of all I would like to write something about the cinematography.Sven Nykvist is of course one of the best cinematographer´s of all times and this film is so fantastic beautifully filmed.I must say that I got lost in the film sometimes and did not understood what was going on but still I tried.The best in the film is before the "war" has started.A very dark allegory over the society.

I think it´s good-but still very though and hard to understand-and I recommend it but only for people who can see this sort of things.I actually got a bit depressed of this film.

It´s very hard to describe "The Sacrifice" and I have tried my best but you must see it for yourself to understand and maybe appreciate it.

Andrei Tarkovsky was without a doubt one of the genuine artist working in the cinema. With films such as "Andrei Rublev", "Solaris", "Mirror", Stalker" and "Nostalghia", Tarkovsky enriched the world with powerful works for art. "Sacrifice" was his final film, made while Tarkovsky was dying of cancer. The story concerns an elderly academic who lives with his family in a rural part of Sweden. When he learns that about an imminent nuclear war, he makes a desperate pact with God. The film is astonishingly beautiful, like all Tarkovsky's films. Images of nature, water and fire feature prominently, as does the shifting from colour images to black and white.

It is important to remember that Tarkovsky is not a very accessible film-maker, and his films make great demands on viewer's patience and attention, but if you are willing to make the effort you will be rewarded by an unforgettable experience.

SPOILER: This is the best movie I have seen so far. I watch it again about once or twice a year, like a ritual or an annual holiday I would be taking into levels of consciousness where the mind is not really required. I do not understand, and I do not feel like I have to, it is secondary. I feel touched like only pure and silent beauty can touch me, or bliss. It is obviously created around an idea of sacrifice, being both a gift to others but also to ourselves. By offering his life in order to save his family, his grandson and the world, the main character is also giving a true meaning to his own life that had mostly been of artificiality, questionings and shallowness. Every person who enters the house, he starts seeing under a deeper if not more expressionistic light... And when he meets with magic (while making love with the witch) he creates the bridge that will take him from reality into mystery. The whole film is as breathtaking and self-sufficient as a painting, or even more so, a Russian icon. It is ageless. I suppose it will remain with me for my entire life. I consider it Tarkovsky's last will, but even more so a piece of the Human Heritage that should be protected and kept accessible for future generation.

Quite possibly my favourite film. Quite why I'm not always sure -- perhaps this is really a rather pretentious film ? Perhaps one in which a long time is spent without engaging the audience ? One with perhaps the most unlikely postman one might meet outside of a Bergman film set ? But, from the moment the camera opens lovingly on the icon, to the closing as the ambulance drives away, I find myself captivated, and drawn back to watch again. As with Tarkovsky's other films, certain images linger long in the memory:"little man" watering the ikebana, the levitating witch, the crashing milk jug, the roar of the jets. For those of us cursed with a lifetime of weekly wage slavery this is a fine restorative film for the spirit.

I have just registered to the database, and this is my first review that I've written for it. The first film I thought of was The Sacrifice, Andrei Tarkovsky's final masterwork, and in my opinion his best. This film affected me like no other, and forced me to look at Tarkovsky in an all new light, as a spiritual creator. See this film, I guarantee it will change your outlook on life if you give it the chance. It is the most challenging, spiritually invigorating film I have ever seen, by truly the greatest cinematic poet/visionary of all time. Tarkvosky is the future of cinema, the one who carried the torch, the one whom all aspiring cinematic artists should look to, and a genius who passed far before his rightful time.

I sit here, agog, with the holy terror of wonder and amazement at the immensely tender spirituality which this film has bestowed upon me.

This is my second Tarkovsky film...and now I am hooked. I am not going to be very successful in explaining this movie to anyone -- even to myself, so forgive the sketchiness of these reflections.

THE SACRIFICE is a revelation to me. The level of pathos I feel right now is overwhelming -- something that has occurred too infrequently in my life.

This film regards the human soul as the most precious commodity possible and life as it's most ample celebration. "Time cannot vanish without trace.." Tarkovsky has said. And so the time that Tarkovsky spent on this Earth, has been well spent and he has left more than a trace for future generations to wonder and ponder at.

I adore Tarkovsky's images, so lovingly photographed here by SVEN NIKVIST. Most remarkable of these images are the final settings where everything comes to a point...even THEY have dialogue made up of great silences packed with intensely significant emotions which have come from the protagonist's culmination.

The choice of music here is also deeply personal and wildly original in its contrasts and penetrating meaning. In the final strains, we hear first the modern and timeless Asian sensibilities of Watazumido Shuso. After which a great silence of visual narrative we are offered a spiritual selection from some of the most beautiful music ever written -- Johann Sebastian Bach's St. Matthew Passion.

All of these, combine in one's mind's eye and heart to provide the thoughtful viewer with one of the most spiritually satisfying endings of any movie I have ever witnessed.

The movie seems long but, it really isn't as long as you might imagine. I suppose it is because so much of the narrative is not splashed into our senses -- ready for regurgitation. There is much we must work for. There is much for which we must contribute our own viewpoints and form our own conclusions.

But then life isn't filled with dialogue in the conventional sense...it is more packed with our own thoughts and our own decisions -- as so is this film. It allows you to conclude many things on your own.

Isn't it kind of Tarkovsky to have been so benevolent to us and our panoply of thought-patterns? We come to this movie all with our different characters and personalities...Tarkovsky thought of this.

And he offered us a masterpiece - where we were the mental protagonist who made the endings for each us - our own -- and yet all different -- but the same, after all.

It has the makings of a film I'd usually like - intellectuals pondering man's fate and the existential threat of nuclear war, the poetic visions of Andrei Tarkovsky, and cinematographer Sven Nykvist - and as it was Tarkovsky's last film, I feel bad I didn't like it more.

The setup is strong, with that long conversation with the postman and then the pessimism in the monolog of the main character (Erland Josephson) while his son crawls around: "We have acquired a dreadful disharmony, an imbalance if you will, between our material and our spiritual development. Our culture is defective. I mean, our civilization. Basically defective, my boy! Perhaps you mean that we ought to study the problem, and look for a solution together. Perhaps we could, if it wasn't so late. Altogether too late."

I also liked the indirect imagery of war, with the planes rocketing by overhead rattling the cupboards, and the apocalyptic television broadcast that suddenly goes dark. The film was made when nuclear Armageddon was still the biggest fear for humanity's survival, and Tarkovsky is brilliant in the restraint he exercises in these scenes, which effectively amplifies it.

Warning, spoilers from here on.

In an allegorical way, the film then seems to show three reactions to such extreme, existential fear: (1) anxiety and/or panic that's muted through alcohol or sedatives (2) praying with all one's heart to God, and (3) turning to more earthly pleasures, and perhaps making a deal with the Devil via a witch. Maybe these are the three basic ways people tend to respond in life, facing a world with so many problems and knowing they will die one way or another. Get anesthetized, get holy, or get laid.

In each of these things though, I was a little disappointed with what Tarkovsky was showing me: (1) the wife's panic is overwrought and I cringed over the daughter's forced sedation, (2) plays on the stereotype of the atheist turning to God when the chips are down, and (3) is just weird, even if taken in some symbolic way. These scenes also go on for too long, and are absent interesting philosophical dialogue.

It's all subject to interpretation and there is no shortage of analyses about the film, but it then seems to show the nuclear war avoided (yay god! Or yay witch?), but the man's demise unavoidable (that shot with the ambulance, while prolonged, was excellent). Was this guy just going insane all along, crushed by his pessimism and fear for his own mortality? Regardless, Tarkovsky seems to show that while humanity somehow finds a way forward without wiping itself out, the next generation will always replace us, a bittersweet message which yet somehow has hope.

There's a lot to chew on and I confess I liked thinking about the film more than I liked actually seeing it, if that makes any sense. Ultimately the religious overtones, its length, and the middle sections which I thought were weak dragged it down for me. It's worth seeing, but I don't think I would want to watch it again.

Tarkovsky's final film has a very contemplative, sedate tone; the characters are liable to open philosophical discussions or talk about their memories from the dim, dim past at the oddest moments. The "plot" is very vague and, despite the terrifying premise of a nuclear holocaust, there is almost no urgency. Where the film excels is in its camerawork: the movements of the camera are so fluid and so "soft", that you'll often get from a very long shot to a close-up of a person without even noticing it. Some people have called it a masterpiece; such an opinion is understandable, even if I don't agree with it. (**1/2)

The Sacrifice (1986) - [10/10]

Tarkovsky's legacy and impact on cinema. This film is a masterpiece. Period, end of story. Every single scene is meticulously crafted and executed. Tarkovsky applies each and every technique that he has learned - and mastered - over the years and solidifies himself as a master of cinema. An artist. An expert. An auteur. I'd be lying if I said I did not cry. I cried twice. Once at the beginning, and once at the end. The opening credits hadn't even finished, and I was in tears. I don't know if it's because I realized that this was Andrei Tarkovsky's final film, his last mark on cinema history, or if it was because of the beauty that overcame my senses, from sound to sight. I cried at the end, because it was over. Tarkovsky's last film. It ends triumphantly, magnificently, and heartbreaking(ly). It is a legendary ending, juxtaposing the end of life and all we own (a house fire) and the beginning of life (a child caring to a young tree). This film marks the end of the Andrei Tarkovsky Appreciation Event, the end of Tarkovsky's filmography, and the end of a legend. But is it the end or just the beginning?

Tarkovsky's filmography will forever be immortalized in film history. Each of his seven films are masterpieces in their own ways. 0. The Steamroller and the Violin (1961): One of the greatest short films to come from a film student and proof that Tarkovsky had limitless potential. 1. Ivan's Childhood (1962): One of the best directorial debuts and wartime character studies. 2. Andrei Rublev (1966): One of the best biopics and historical epics in film history. 3. Solaris (1972): One of the greatest space and psychological journeys to cross the silver screen. 4. The Mirror (1975): One poetic piece of cinema in every way and an incredibly personal experience. 5. Stalker (1979): One of the finest science-fiction films of all time and a masterclass in filmmaking. 6. Nostalghia (1983): One of the most sincere and reflective films to ever be conceived. 7. The Sacrifice (1986): One of the best shot films and a beautiful end to a master's work. Every film Tarkovsky created is quintessential to cinema. Even though Andrei Tarkovsky passed away, he lives on. Someone somewhere, will discover his work. Someone somewhere, will be inspired by his work. Someone somewhere, will pay homage to his work (I will pay homage to him... one day). Tarkovsky may be gone, but his impact on cinema will never disappear.

Now onto The Sacrifice (1986). I really couldn't find much wrong with it (hence the 10/10 rating). Maybe the slow pace, but slow paced films don't bother me. This film has a lot of main characters in it, and it works. Each character is written originally, organically, and purposefully. At times the different personalities clash, and then moments later they blend. The overall chemistry of the entire ensemble is really great. Erland Josephson is the main (main) character. He is amazing in this film. From the very first scene, we are connected with him (even though the camera is distant, but I'll get to that later). That's really how it is with all of the characters in the film - we're connected with them. They're completely real, raw, and original. Josephson doesn't just carry the film, he makes it. Without him, the supporting main characters would not have worked. He is the common ground for the audience, between insanity and rationality. The performances were up to par with the quality of the film, but in the end some characters could have had a little more "stage presence." Such as Julia and Maria's characters (Valérie Mairesse and Filippa Franzén). They weren't as fleshed out as they could have been, and I think both of their performances weren't as strong (or noticeable) as the rest of the cast. Regardless, their characters still work. In the grand scheme of things, they did not need to be as present as the other characters, but it would have been nice to see. Overall, the ensemble cast (something Tarkovsky really hadn't done before) worked. The way these characters worked wasn't just because of the actors, but also because of the writing. Tarkovsky wrote such a complex plot for this film. He throws everything he has into it. Every stylistic device. Every metaphor. Every amount of personal-ness he can add. The Sacrifice (1986) was dedicated to Tarkovsky's son. The son who he had not been able to see for eighteen months. This is a love letter to him, and a message to all of human race (I know, big expectations to fulfill). The story serves as a warning to mankind: to not abandon our spirituality for materialistic goods because when you lose everything you own, all you have is your faith. I think this story is as important and impactful as it was back in 1986. It holds up on so many levels. From the historical allusions to the character attributes utilized. The plot slowly (very slowly) evolves from a normal day into dire circumstances (WWIII) to only devolve back into normality. It's hard to explain because the plot is simple, yet complex. Beautiful, yet devastating. Each line of dialogue is real, yet expositional and artistic. I learned a lot about how to write an effective film and how to write subtextual dialogue on the first watch. I wasn't even trying to learn anything, I was just trying to experience it. That shows how amazing the writing is. It captivates you. It intrigues you. And it makes you question yourself. Andrei Tarkovsky writes with such nuance, mastery, and experience (as in he puts his own experiences into the film), to craft a timeless piece of art named, The Sacrifice (1986). The cinematography is gorgeous. There are a total of 115 shots in this film. 115. That means that the average length of each shot is a minute and a half (not every scene is a minute and a half, that's just the average length of each shot for the 149 minute runtime). There are sequences that last upwards of 6 minutes long. The length of a scene doesn't mean a film is beautifully shot, but what it captures does (that isn't to say that the long takes aren't beautiful in themselves - they are). This film captures beauty in its purest form. It captures nature, humanity, kindness, faith, and much more... just through imagery. The shots Tarkovsky and Sven Nykvist choose to use, denote emotion. Every single shot has a purpose. Like the very end of the film, it directly parallels the opening to Tarkovsky's first film, Ivan's Childhood (1962). The Sacrifice (1986) ends focused on a tree, and Ivan's Childhood (1962) begins with a single tree in focus. I doubt that this was done purposefully, but this connection just ties his films together. Although, I wouldn't be surprised if this was in fact done purposefully. Regardless, all of Tarkovsky's films are shot beautifully, each with their own style, emotion, and composition. COMPOSITION! I completely forgot about the composition of this film. Each scene is staged to perfection. The camera revolves around each character, hitting marks that are just aesthetically pleasing. The composition of each scene is purposeful, as characters move around (in and out of frame) to reveal new things. The mix of scene composition and camera maneuvers just elevates this masterpiece.

The Sacrifice (1986): Tarkovsky's final film. This is the penultimate Tarkovsky film. It is the an incredible cinematic experience. I had very high expectations going into viewing this, and they were exceeded. This film is nearly perfect, marking the end of Tarkovsky, and places him within the ranks of the greatest filmmakers that ever lived. Seeing this final film makes me wonder... how different would film history be if Tarkovsky hadn't sacrificed his life for art. I'm sure he would have somehow outdone this film with an eighth feature, but we'll never know. We'll never know what he thought of today's masterpieces. If he really enjoyed The Terminator (1984), imagine what he would have thought of films like The Matrix (1999)? Or even films like The Shawshank Redemption (1994)? Marvel films? I would love to hear his opinion on these films, but I don't think I ever will. All we have are the films he made, books he wrote, and ideologies he established to communicate with him. His seven masterpieces. That is how we will continue to celebrate Andrei Tarkovsky's legacy. So as the month of April ends, Tarkovsky's birthday month, so does this event. The goal was to view every Tarkovsky film and to review them for a greater audience, and I can confidently say that I did so. I've had so much support on this, and I thank you. I thank every single one of you for simply viewing my posts, because now you've heard of Andrei Tarkovsky. And maybe, one day you'll decide to watch one of his films - and I hope you do. Andrei Arsenyevich Tarkovsky was one of the greatest filmmakers that ever lived, and a filmmaking hero of mine. I've really exhausted all of my opinions on his films, so I won't bother explaining them to you anymore... I'll let him do it. "My purpose is to make films that will help people to live, even if they sometimes cause unhappiness." -Andrei Arsenyevich Tarkovsky (April 4th, 1932 - December 29, 1986).

I love Nykvist's always spellbinding cinematography, and I have liked some other Tarkovsky films, I had no problem with the slow pace or empty shots, actually would have like the whole thing better with none of those annoying people in it. But sorry, I can only explain the misplaced reverence for this film as credit for his earlier work, and respect as his career and life was ending. However, this film is the kind of thing that has made "intellectual" a dirty word in the US. Just what we need - more artful glorification of the cliché that being an intellectual means being a spoiled rotten self-absorbed, self-pitying terminally miserable humorless neurotic, who has it all but does nothing but desperately search for reasons to feel sorry for himself. This film asks deep questions? Sorry but I was only 12 when my intellect questioned and rejected the ridiculous idea of a "loving" all powerful god getting sadistic kicks from demanding "sacrifices". This film limply accepts that lame-brained dark-ages scam of religious oppression with a whimper. But why not when the sacrifice involves every old rich white guy's fantasy of banging his hot young maid! Some sacrifice! Of course he manages to turn even that into a downer - sheesh! Can't be an "art" movie without a topless maid! Class oppression - even making the maids wear uniforms in the 20th Century - is another sickening idea that is accepted without comment or critique. The idea of there being some eco-idealistic message in burning a house is also silly as hell. He obviously had no problem owning a house that would take the energy use of a small country to heat. Guess it doesn't matter if it impresses the neighbors. And people say this is about teaching the next generation to do better? Are you kidding? It's sad that there's an art-house audience for such pap, when Greenaway can't even get a release in the US these days. So... this is the film for you if you're no longer satisfied with depressive navel gazing, and you're so desperate for miserable self-absorption that you'll bend over and stare at your own anus, so then you can complain that something smells bad, and you have a backache too.

This is a spare and haunting work that weaves its spell slowly yet powerfully. Every shot is framed with loving care, and Tarkovsky allows the camera to remain fixed on a scene as events unfold. It's perhaps the most beautifully photographed film I've ever seen. There's very little music during the course of the movie, yet subtle, mysterious sounds contribute to an overall feeling of mystery and foreboding. The acting and dialogue are no doubt greatly influenced by the work of Bergman. Perhaps the film is a kind of homage to him.

This is definitely not a popcorn movie, nor one to see on a first date. I recommend you see it when you're not distracted or impatient - when you can be fully present and mindful as events develop at an unhurried, organic, human pace. The cumulative effect is devastating, yet somehow wonderfully cathartic.

It is perhaps too blunt a notion that Andrei Tarkovsky's the Sacrifice bears some comparison with Ingmar Bergman's films. More than a notion, it's right up there on the screen: Erland Josephsson, one of Bergman's great collaborators, as well as Sven Nykvist (probably the best), as well as certain allusions in some of the shots (i.e. the kid in the bed in black and white seems right out of Persona). But it's also the themes being dealt with, the tone in the monologues from the characters (albeit from Josephsson and usually dealing with his faith and memories), and the sense of grief and bewilderment ala Shame. At the same time, with these allusions as well as others to the likes of Nietzche and Dostoyevsky, it's through and through the work of a filmmaker so in touch with his soul as an artist, with so much to pour into a work that has relatively little plot (not that it doesn't have a story), that it floors one.

And, in a sense, it's close to being, despite its darker intonations and its ambiguous, staggering ending of madness and hope, the director's quintessential work. While Stalker will probably stay as the artistic pinnacle of his career, the Sacrifice brings to a head many of the director's chief concerns while not possibly making them too patched together to make sense (i.e. The Mirror, which is nevertheless also great), as well as in a style that is meditative, calm, harsh, surreal, and always with the heart and mind of what leans toward the poetic. Once we get into the premise of the picture, which takes a little while itself to set up- an old man, Alexander, (Josephsson) and his family are at his home to celebrate his birthday when elsewhere a catastrophic war is going on, with the family left to their own devices out in the middle of the countryside- Tarkovsky explores the spaces that are there to see in the consciousness of men (and, to a degree, women) in a crisis of faith.

In reality, there isn't a whole lot that "happens" in the usual plot-driven sense of the Sacrifice, but within the realm of the scenes depicted and acted, there's a lot more than any other filmmaker would meet at. A visit to Maria, a "witch" in a church nearby, takes up a fairly significant chunk out of the picture, but in it is a story told by Alexander about a garden and his mother, and around this and in this scene are the details that Tarkovsky builds with. It goes without saying his genius also lies with whom he works with, and Nykvist creates such a mood for each particular scene (sometimes the light or look of a scene will fade just a little, and everything will change, however subtly, for an instant), and such a delicate, brooding nature with the camera as it tracks along in Tarkovsky's carefully lined long takes, that it ranks up there with his very best pieces with Bergman.

But at the same time, as the director mixes in black and white footage, slow-motion of a character running down a hall, a tilt up some mud and nature, a sense of time and place and horror is depicted, honestly, without the problems with usually pretentious visionaries. And as it was that Tarkovsky knew that he was dying- unlike other filmmakers who fade out after their last picture or die unexpectedly- there's a sense of self-reflection, as it comes out with Alexander and in those around him, that is sad but ultimately poignant to the highest order. Questions are raised that can hardly be answered, but one of the chief ones has the ring of naiveté until it's known that it's this particular instance it's raised: is there no hope for the spirit? What about the boy, however, might also be another sort of question, as we see the final shot starting on the boy and raising up ever so gently up the tree with the music playing on.

All these and more can be raised from the Sacrifice (not to mention, of course, what does it mean to really sacrifice oneself), but it's besides all of that just a truly rich cinematic experience, one that's so rich that it's hard to take it all in all at once. It has the sustainability of its artistic force to not have the danger of growing 'dated'; to make a more leap with some grandeur perhaps, as with a poem or some renaissance painting (not far off from the Leonardo featured in the film), the Sacrifice asks to be revisited, to have the experience of the thoughts and ideas poised, and for the amazing performances and technical work. It's one of the true masterpieces of the 1980s.

While not quite his best film(Andrei Rublev), The Sacrifice, like every film Andrei Tarkovsky did, still manages to be a wonderful film. Like other Tarkovsky films, particularly Solaris, it requires a lot of patience- like Solaris The Sacrifice has a rather ponderous and static first 30 minutes that might alienate viewers- but if stuck with it is very rewarding.

Tarkovsky's films are some of the most visually accomplished and beautiful films ever seen, and The Sacrifice certainly is visually accomplished and beautiful with positively dream-like photography, evocative scenery that reflects the horror of nuclear war brilliantly and stirring images and symbolism that are not too hard to understand. That's unsurprising though considering it's from Sven Nykvist, an Ingmar Bergman regular and one of the greatest cinematographers who ever lived. Tarkovsky's direction, which always had a rare consistency in quality(to me he never made a bad film- one of the few directors for that to be the case- even my least favourite Ivan's Childhood is great as well as his most accessible), is as usual exemplary. There is a vast Bergman influence here in terms of themes, but there is enough of Tarkovsky's style to still make it feel still like a Tarkovsky film.

The music is haunting and melancholic, like with Mirror Bach has never been more effectively used on film, and the script evokes a lot of thought and succeeds in giving dimension to the characters. The story is more rigid and uncomprisingly detached than Tarkovsky's other films, but while the film is deliberately slow and long there still is a lot of power and emotional impact, especially in the truly miraculous scene with the witch and the powerful epilogue. The acting suits the film very well indeed with Bergman regular Erland Josephsen giving a compelling performance in the multi-faceted lead role. Overall, not his best film, for me it ranks around the middle of his filmography, but Tarkovsky's final film(he probably would have done more films had he not died so young) hits a high note. 9/10 Bethany Cox

Tarkovsky is one of the most important filmmakers of his generation. Despite having only made seven films (he made a few more short films and a documentary for television, but he made only seven feature films for cinema) they are all true masterpieces, making it difficult to choose the best of them all.

This Sacrifice is the last film by the Russian director, made in the final stages of his life, sentenced to death for the same lung cancer that had killed his wife a few years before. There is, in fact, a strong probability that the lung cancer that would kill Tarkovsky, his wife Larissa Tarkovskaya and actor Anatoly Solonitsyn had its origin in poisoning at the chemical factory where Stalker (1979) was filmed.

The quest for faith is a recurring theme in Tarkovsky's work, at least since Andrei Rublev (1966) and gained quasi-religious tones in the two films after Larissa's death, Nostalgia (1983) and This Sacrifice (1986).

Tarkovsky's cinema is always very complex and open to multiple levels of reading, but Sacrifice, as its title indicates, is a final work by someone who knows he will die soon and wants to leave a message of faith. Not exactly a religious, institutionalized faith, but rather a sincere, individual, ethical, artistic faith, something that came from the previous film Nostalgia and which also had in common the fact that it has the Swedish Erland Josephson as the actor who embodies this mystical revelation. . The Sacrifice is a beautiful, profound and provocative film, as it challenges even non-believers to reflect on faith and the human condition. At all levels it is a work worthy of the position it occupies as the cinematic testament of the great director Andrei Tarkovsky.

This is a film is in a tough spot - I'll either meet someone who holds it as one of their all time favourites, or I'll find someone who knows Andrei Tarkovsky inside out and sidelines it as one of his lesser efforts. Either way, it is worth watching. If all else fails and nothing grabs you at all, Sven Nykvist's cinematography is gorgeous. Arguably the best he's done. You could just drug yourself up and turn off the subtitles and smile for a few hours.

This is why I don't love it: its visual similarities with Ingmar Bergman's films make the acting seem sub-par. It sounds really horrible, because Erland Josephson is one of my favourite actors and I admire Andrei Tarkovsky's earlier films. But Bergman has this special knack for getting out perfect performances, especially from women. When The Sacrifice's dramatic scenes flared I felt uncomfortable because I'm used to a stupidly high standard.

My second and lesser reason has to do with the absence of grounding within the first hour of the film. Tarkovsky's philosophical musings on art and faith have always had a strong and fundamental world to exist it- Andrei Rublev has its medieval Russia, Stalker its post apocalyptic wasteland, The Mirror exists within the tendrils of memories. The Sacrifice doesn't give you a platform to make its ideas relevant, so the first time you watch the film it is distracting trying to find out actually where we are. Some praise this dreamy ambiguity. I disliked it. It's actually more enjoyable the second time around.

The disappointing thing is, if Andrei Tarkovsky and Ingmar Bergman didn't exist, and this film was the first film made by some random director, it'd probably be an all time classic. But because it is at the end of two very rich and talented filmmakers' careers, it suffers in comparison.

Each time I see a film of Andrei Tarkovsky I think this is his most impenetrable film, but "Sacrifice" (his last film) really deserves this honor.

At the end of his career Tarkovsky left the USSR and after shooting "Nostalgia" (1983) in Italy he shot "Sacrifice" in Sweden. To be more precise the film was shot on the island of Gotland in the Baltic sea, and not on the nearby island of Faro. It is easy to understand where this misunderstanding of Faro as shooting location comes from. Faro was the island of Ingmar Bergmen and "Sacrifice" has everything to do with te the oeuvre of Bergman. Bergman actor Erland Josephson plays the leading role, Sven Nykvist is cinematographer, the little tree in the opening scene made me think of the tree Max von Sydow fights with in "The virgin spring" (1960, Ingmar Bergman) and even the theme of the film is very Bergman like.

The film is about a man thinking that World War III has broken out and nuclear disaster is impending. In a key scene of the film he is desperate about (as Bergman would have called it) "the silence of God". In this respect one could consider "Sacrifice" as the fourth episode of the Bergmanian trilogy about "the silence of God" which consists of "Through a glass darkly" (1961), "Winter light" (1963) and "The silence" (1963). The character of Alexander from "Sacrifice" resembles perhaps most the character of Jonas Persson (Max von Sydow) from "Winter light".

"Sacrifice" is not Tarkovsky's best movie, but I couldn't help to be touched by the final scene. The beautiful images, the beautiful music (Erbarme dich, Matthaus Passion, Johann Sebastian Bach) and the dedication of this movie to his son (given the fact that Tarkovsky was terminal ill when he made "Sacrifice").