Soviet-era Russian cinema is difficult going even in the best of situations - leaving aside all the abstruse symbolism and propaganda (which I've previously mentioned in my reviews of Soviet cinema in general, and Andrei Tarkovsky films in particular), Russian cinema, follows the European tradition of cinema as art (as opposed to entertainment), and the French auteur theory whereby film is crafted by a single individual (the director), but in the case of the Soviets, goes a step further - since all film is essentially government funded under communism, and bearing no capitalist need to be successful in the marketplace, or editorial oversight (save perhaps the need to conform to Party ideologue standards), tends to elevate the merely pretentious to outright self-indulgent proportions. Nowhere is this more evident than Tarkovsky's ЗEPKAЛO, a semi-autobiographical film about Tarkovsky's childhood including snippets of poetry, mixed black and white photography, and the utter lack of any narrative flow or even an overarching theme.
As with all Tarkovsky films, the real highlight here is the photography, which is often stunning. In particular, the burning of a barn and lots of long takes and slow dolly shots. But pretty pictures alone do not a good movie make and the film, already difficult to follow for its intensely personal subject matter, is made worse by lots of flashbacks, including flashbacks-within-flashbacks. Couple that with all the usual nonsensical Tarkovsky motifs, such as objects falling from tables and wind blowing underbrush and whatnot, and you have a film that is beautiful but kind of devoid of meaning for anyone who is not Andrei Tarkovsky.
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