Nostalghia

The end of a long year, that’s sped by at a seemingly increasing rate, is drawing close. The days are short and I’ve experienced a brief period of feeling empty, unenthusiastic about reading or watching anything. I recently rescued my small store of DVDs from the loft where I’d temporarily stored them to make some room for fresh arrivals. Faced with an unexpected evening to myself, I reached for Tarkovsky’s Nostalghia, a film I’d bought some time ago, but had never watched (it may be the last film by the director that I hadn’t yet seen). I suspect – though I have no way of really knowing – that Tarkovsky is rather out of fashion nowadays. His religious belief (inseparable from the experience of the films), his utter sincerity, his refusal to make concessions to the audience and his faith in the power of film and of poetry make for someone out of step with current times. Such aspects, amongst others, contribute to my fascination and love of his small but incredibly rich oeuvre. Nostalghia is by no means his greatest work, in fact it’s relatively open, but even this lesser work in its sense of space and possibility delivered with Tarkovsky’s absolute commitment felt utterly nourishing: a draught of a dark, rich elixir for the soul.