The length and pace of Tarkovsky's Solaris allows the audience to really take in and process each and every scene. The audience is forced to hone in on their patience and settle in with the film which develops a deeper connection between the audience and the scenes. The slow pace is introduced within the very first scene showing beautiful shots of a river streaming surrounded by plants that create a gentle and relaxed feeling; this comfort is shortly disrupted with an introduction of the protagonists accompanied by an unsettling noise that changes the tone. By taking the slower route then the more typical flashy fast paced sci-fi movies sets this film apart in a good way.
Nature for myself has always been a way to escape the distractions and commotion that fills our everyday lives. When I find myself overwhelmed or stressed, whether it be from the troubles of the present or uncertainty of the future, I often escape to nature to gift myself the time and medium to block out all the noise. Just the other day, I drove out to Morro to watch the sunset on the rocks, and I couldn’t help but notice the collection of individuals, from college students to retirees with headphones and sunglasses on, also taking the time to escape.
The slow pace you mentioned in the video is certainly a relic of an older time. Movies like 2001: A Space Odyssey, Soylent Green, and Solaris all existed in a pre-Star Wars sci fi realm. The concept of sci fi in itself was able to draw interest. But eventually, there became so many sci fi movies that being in that genre alone didn’t guarantee you’d stand out. Not to mention the attention span of the public dropping considerably in recent times, a slower pace movie is a luxury the modern industry cannot afford. -Ryan Keighran
Tarkovsky’s painstakingly slow film speed is a powerful tool that alters and enhances the audience's experience of Solaris. The long-drawn-out shots that seem never-ending at times, grant the viewer a moment to isolate their own thoughts. Just as Kelvin faces his inner desires and suppressed memories, the audience is encouraged to do the same through the implementation of the film's slow speed. As Kelvin’s mind slowly deteriorates while he struggles with his own isolation, it is Tarkovsky’s intention that the viewer questions their own sanity while they anxiously await the next transition.
Tarkovsky’s slow-paced, philosophical sci-fi film Solaris is a breath of fresh air when compared to the plethora of other fast-paced, action-packed space fiction films consumers are so willing to eat up nowadays. The realistic pacing of the film hypnotically transports you inside the mind of Kris, into a realm of deep soul-searching which is perfectly juxtaposed with the emptiness and loneliness of space. This allows you the time to process and contemplate the events of the film where you can unravel the ambiguous message for yourself based on your own personal values.
Solaris's slow-paced film style allows for a unique viewing experience compared to the fast-paced modern films that we are accustomed to. The slow pace of Solaris allows time to build a more deep emotional connection with the characters and their journeys throughout the film, while also building anxiety as the viewer waits for the next transition. Long uninterrupted shots give viewers time to fully absorb what is happening in each scene, giving viewer's a more immersive experience and more time to contemplate themes and ideas that are currently on screen.
Among the hard-hitting moments in “Solaris” (of which there were many), perhaps one of the most jarring was Tarkovsky’s juxtaposition of the bustling city landscape with Kris’s peaceful home. Tarkovsky’s viewpoint here seems to perfectly parallel Wordsworth’s in “Tintern Abbey”, suggesting that peace can only truly be found through connection with nature. He conveys this primarily through thoughtful use of sound; as he transitions from cityscape to nature, a deafening cacophony of daunting, spine-chilling sounds abruptly reveals a lasting silence. After such horrifying sounds, the silence doesn’t make the viewer feel lonely or isolated, but instead peaceful, with a feeling of resolution.
“Contemplative sci-fi” carries greater integrity than the typical action-packed version of the science fiction genre. Like Carl Dreyer’s decision with Vampyr, to value staying true to his art over box-office sales, Tarkovsky’s Solaris strays away from flashy tactics that attract maximum viewership, and instead aims for more profound goals, such as challenging our imaginations and intellects with the possible technological advancements of the future. Films whose directors are motivated beyond profits distinguish themselves because over time, special effects improve, leaving certain films outdated, whereas the thought-provoking ideas embedded in other films stand up to the test of time.
The pace of Solaris (1972) is slowed to a degree that leaves the viewer uncomfortable and apprehensive of what will come next. This incredibly slow pace contributes to the spine-chilling atmosphere in the film. From the first shot, the viewer is jarred out of the high-speed pace of everyday life and blockbuster action movies, straight into the unfamiliar and frightening world of Solaris. The drawn-out shots create a stark contrast between the familiar hustle and bustle of the viewer's life and leaves them in a foreign state that mirrors the foreign subject of the film.
Solaris’ slow progressive plot known as contemplative sci-fi, allows the audience to see the character’s emotions and thoughts as they progress through the story. Solaris took the frame of a suspense/romance film by displaying emotion and painted on the element of sci-fi visually with its set design and visuals. Arguably, the only aspect of sci-fi in the film is the concept of space travel. Inversely, Kelvin, boards the ship to help with the death of a scientist but appears to be chained down to the memories wife which stops him from being psychologically present in the film.
The "grace that could dissolve one's shame" is something that cannot be ascertained by any outside source. Kris' internal blame can be felt by each of us when we lay awake before bed, contemplating the worst things we have been a part of. Taking this conflict and suppressing it makes it a stronger subconscious motivator. Even when something is not your own fault, only you decide how you react. External growth is only visible after the internal has been completed.
Solaris is a film that demands your attention and rewards your patience by setting a more meditative and contemplative mood;. This science fiction movie goes beyond the typical space adventure story, and instead delves deep into the human psyche. The slower, introspective shots allow us to fully immerse ourselves in the characters' struggles in comprehending their world. In a world where we are constantly bombarded by information, Solaris serves as a reminder of the importance of taking a step back and reflecting on our own experiences in an increasingly complex world.
Tarkovsky’s Solaris explores human nature and what happens when we leave what is familiar to us and explore a vast expanse of unknown. Burton has a particularly heavy hitting line, he says, “Are you so quick to destroy that which you don’t understand?” Looking back on human history, there is a trend of colonizing and purging cultures that are different from explorers. This film implores the audience to reflect on why humans are so quick to seize power from or destroy that which is different from us. Hypnotized by the cinematography, the viewer spirals with these existential thoughts.
While most modern science fiction films use the genre as a spectacle and as something to hold the audience’s attention, many older films, such as Andrei Tarkovsky’s Solaris and 2001: A Space Odyssey, use the genre as a median to explore more personal and emotional stories of self-discovery. The slower pace of Solaris gives the audience time to deeply connect with the protagonist, Kris Kelvin, as he transitions from being fearful and cautious to accepting and understanding towards the phenomena he comes across. This strong, emotion driven connection creates a more impactful story about coming to terms with one’s past and allows the audience to relate to Kelvin’s journey of self-knowledge.
One notion that Dr. M made that resonated with me was how the genre of sci-fi, known for its exploring of the unknown, is an instrumental medium for human introspection. For example, Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) explores what it would mean for humans to transcend to a higher power, and what the future of human evolution be. Furthermore, more recent examples like Denis Villeneuve’s Arrival (2016) explore the crucial connections between people and the need for mutual understanding and communication. Both films can thoroughly explore personal issues for humans, yet are set amidst great technological achievement or the face of greater mysteries of the unknown like extraterrestrial creatures.
I think that there is a place for more contemplative science fiction films in today's film industry. These films often tackle big questions about humanity, the universe, and the nature of reality, and often make me reflect on these questions meaningfully. Additionally, slower-paced films make it easier to connect more deeply with characters and their journeys, allowing for a more emotionally profound viewing experience. Ultimately, it comes down to finding the right balance between action and introspection and creating films that speak to a wide range of audiences with varying preferences.
“Solaris” by Andrei Tarkovsky delves into the nature of human memory, love, and consciousness, and how these concepts shape human existence. Tarkovsky explores the conceptualization of how memory can plague us, and how we can become confined by our past experiences. Kris’s very soul in this film is engraved with his past experiences of his deceased wife in which; Tarkovsky uses the concept of love to probe the complexities of human relationships and explores the intricacies of their connection. The planet Solaris itself serves as a powerful metaphor for the human psyche, suggesting that our innermost desires and fears can be projected onto the external world, thereby shaping our experience of reality.
Whether it's TARS in "interstellar," acting as a more intelligent, real life companion, or the HAL 9000 computer in "Space Odyssey," speaking as though it has feelings. It's as though we are getting closer to encountering these concepts in real life rather than viewing them as far out phenomena. Sci Fi films have always been a way for people to fantasize about seemingly impossible worlds including computers who take over or living on another planet, despite this, living in a world where our technology has grown so rapidly its hard not to feel like these ideas aren't approaching us.
A melodic backbone is present in Solaris, a single classical piece that seldom plays. Compared to other “contemplative” sci-fi, multiple songs represent the changes in emotion and spectacle. Even an earlier film, 2001: A Space Odyssey, uses multiple orchestral songs that are lively and energetic in comparison. In place of traditional music, distorted noise plays while Burton sits in the taxi, indicating an unease for the supernatural element that rears its head in the film. Additionally, a lack of music can allow the viewer to hear diegetic sound and become immersed with the environment, like the hum of the spaceship.
Artificial intelligence is accelerating at an impressive rate recently, which brings us closer to self-awareness. This will bring up many discussions about moral issues to talk about. Some ethical theories have been tested by Isaac Asimov for artificial intelligence in a series of books called the Robot Series. The first book, “I, Robot” (1950), deals with the Three Laws of Robotics that at first glance seem to keep robots from committing crimes. But the reader later finds out that there is a loophole that allows a robot to commit a crime against a human being. This series shows that we have been thinking critically about the ethics of artificial intelligence for a long time and still don’t quite have the answer.
Through Kris’s journey from space and philosophical limbo back to grounding himself on earth, “Solaris” by Andrei Tarkovsky illustrates how we must value love most because the pursuit of truth and knowledge is fruitless. In the beginning, Kris is unemotional, grounded in logic, but when he is at the space station, he falls in love with a creation of his own consciousness based on his dead wife. He loses himself in his own mind and the boundaries of reality are broken, but at the end he humbles himself to the earth and grounds himself in love and nature.
Denis Villeneuve’s sci-fi film, Blade Runner 2049 (2017), serves as testament to the modern emphasis on “(replacing) questions with concrete answers” in focus upon oversaturated detail, an “updated interpretation for a new century”; but the new century’s focuses bode a dark future for cinema. Villeneuve’s film embodies the 21st century eye-candy emphasis: a Deakins masterclass with Neo-Noir bones of a story to show for it. Similar to how de Armas tosses Nabokov’s Pale Fire off-screen, recent cinema has tossed the “more measured pace” of storytelling to the replicant dumpster. Yet, this increased visual complexity adds nothing in meaning or plot. In the recent years of “theme park movies,” America desperately needs her own Tarkovsky- and fast, “Ere (our) stories die”(Hardy).
Movies are undeniably trending towards faster pace, increased action, and less ambiguity. As much as I love movies from the past 20 years, the industry appears to be heading in a direction I don’t support. Massive franchises like the MCU epitomize this trend, and audiences love it. The success of these franchises demonstrates that viewers lack interest in movies that require patience and critical thinking. I only hope that the movie industry of the next 2 decades still leaves room for films that attempt to challenge viewers.
While a big-budget sci-fi spectacle can be enthralling in its own right, “contemplative sci-fi” better encapsulates the reason we are so compelled by this genre. The exploration of these hypothetical realities can offer a thoughtful introspective into the human psyche in more ways than one. Examining the futuristic concepts found in science fiction such as interstellar travel can reveal our aspirations or our fears. Furthermore, the stories and themes we choose to delve into within these conceived worlds can expose our priorities in the real world. For a genre that’s defined by its speculative nature, there’s plenty of truth to be discovered.
Science fiction is a valuable tool for dissecting human nature. It offers new perspectives and thought-provoking depictions that challenge traditional assumptions about what it means to be human. By using non-human characters like robots, aliens, or artificial intelligence, sci-fi allows us to examine what makes us fundamentally human by presenting alternative possibilities. For example, "The Matrix" explores free will and what it means to have agency in the setting of a simulated reality, and "Blade Runner 2049" follows an artificial being wrestling with self-identity and purpose. These stories encourage us to question our own assumptions about what makes us human.
Slower-paced, contemplative science fiction provides an effective reflection on human nature by compelling the viewer to grapple with the questions it asks. Unlike more spectacle-driven sci-fi, the audience isn’t bombarded with stimuli of fantastical technology and strange creatures, which can draw all attention away from underlying themes and ideas. Instead, the content highlights these aspects of humanity and leaves time for them to breathe and grow. This forces the audience to confront those questions in new ways, such as how an AI film can lead to thoughts of life and the meaning of sentients.
Just as in Joseph Conrad's novel Nostromo, Solaris (1972) brings forth a confrontation of one's inner self-- wrought to emphasize the fragility of the human condition. From the moment Kris arrives on the space station orbiting Solaris, this is reflected by the disarray of the environment, the people, and the very nature of the mysterious alien ocean as it seeks to recreate the inhabitants innermost thoughts and desires. This fragility comes forth as Kris' normalcy rapidly deteriorates while lost in Hari, come full force by the closing sequence as Kris abandons human society for a floating island upon Solaris's ocean.
Humanity's desire to push the boundaries of possibility is our defining trait: it motivated Michelangelo to sculpt David, Newton to create calculus, and ultimately for Tarkovsky to direct Solaris. This desire is the catalyst for human achievement, yet often it’s tabled due to irrational fears brought about by commercial films. I am outraged that such influence is placed in the hands of scientifically illiterate filmmakers. Negative connotations in popular media slowed progress in numerous fields, including gene therapy and nuclear power. This influence has led us to our modern dystopian reality where science is overshadowed by catchy headlines.
The distinction made with contemplative sci-fi is a good label for those films less focused on action and big set pieces and more on the societal impact of scientific advancement. The idea of "designer babies" now on the rise as CRISPR advances would have truly drastic consequences if left unregulated. Like you mentioned, parents might be more inclined to add specific features rather than remove genetic diseases. While I understand the technology could help eliminated diseases such as diabetes, it truly makes you wonder if this leads us down the road of Eugenics and an even greater divide between those who are able to afford these modifications and those who can't.
Although contemplative sci fi can occupy its own space, there's no doubt that films with faster pace and clearer character direction will reach modern audiences much easier. I have always found it at least somewhat difficult to watch most pre-1980's films simply based on what I watched growing up. Consuming more recent films that have a faster pace and less ambiguity as a child set an expectation going forward that films will usually be like that - it's challenging to encounter something new. It's when a new challenging film can really impact one that cinema is the most powerful and effective.
In my experience, I find that sci-fi reflects human fears over human nature, although it is not unusual for people to fear human nature and what people are capable of during times of conflict. It’s similar to how many of the science fiction novels mentioned in the video shape their world to mirror their fears about technology or war. Solaris was produced in the Soviet Union during the Cold War, so it’ll be interesting to see if any themes related to this conflict will emerge and if its slow pace has anything to do with it.
I think the distinction between action-driven spectacular science fiction and "contemplative sci-fi" is overall fitting when it comes to the diverse landscape of science-fiction media. The classic distinction in the genre is Star Trek versus Star Wars, and I feel that's a question concerning this distinction, with classic Star Trek being more contemplative and Star Wars defining the "space opera" adventure archetype. Of course other media falls beyond these two, such as 2001: A Space Odyssey being perhaps more contemplative than Star Trek, or the world of the cult tabletop roleplaying game Shadowrun carving out a niche all its own.
Speaking about the act of watching a movie as a chance to decelerate brings to mind a struggle I find myself dealing with more as I mature. Life demands a lot from the average adult and since the world will only move faster as technology and communication cycles accelerate, the need for reflection and contemplation grows stronger. What Dr. M said about two authors who advocated for a break from society in nature. It reminds me of the urge I find in myself, to stop everything and lie down beneath the stars. As the pace of everyday experiences increases, movies that invite us to slow down will stand out that much more.
Solaris’ slow moving plot definitely bored some viewers and I was one of them. With never ending long shots, stranding the viewer to his seat, the movie felt exclusive to a certain audience that was willing to run a marathon to understand what was happening. There are current contemplative science fiction movies that I do enjoy, like Interstellar and Tenant. Unlike 1972 Solaris, the pace varies, grabbing the audience's attention and helping them want to think. Instead of feeling like an assignment that must be done, the variability of pace can create an exciting journey that encourages the audience to ponder.
While filmmakers have argued over speed, detail, and character development in the sci-fi category, one commonality unites them. Humans are engaged by a story that accurately predicts the cause of their suffering. As Dr. Marchbanks pointed out, thrillers detailing the possible effects of nuclear energy draw in audiences as this technology takes over. After Karl Marx called the wealthy bloodsuckers, horror novels such as Dracula followed. Around the 2008 housing crisis, films like Sinister excelled as they portrayed houses literally being (re)possessed. Zombie films have increased as Americans fear getting sucked into the mindless monotony of their mundane jobs.
In the film Solaris, the slow pacing and drawn out shots felt agonizingly slow in comparison to the stimulation we are used to with modern media. It seems as if today film makers count on the audience having a shorter attention span, which to some extent this film reinforced given the discomfort viewers have with the slow crawl that this nearly 3 hour film embarks on. Films like this where the consumption of the media takes some effort on the part of the viewer may be a rarity in modern times, but also hold more potential for viewer satisfaction as they feel accomplished at figuring out something that wasn’t spoon fed to them. -Patrick mcgonigle
In a dilapidated spacecraft, crew members suffer from hysteria due to their proximity to strange celestial phenomena. Kris Kelvin stands in a handsome parlor with an image of a Bruegel painting and an image - or rather embodiment - of his dead wife. Tarkovsky’s poetic pace is at times difficult, but it succeeds in destabilizing the cognition of reality and ensuring the teleology of reality’s collapse. Both Kris and the audience conflate perception with memory, so nature may no longer be the solace of introspection. Yeats writes, “A lonely impulse of delight / Drove this to the clouds . . . In balance with this life, this death” regarding a conflicted, doomed airman hurtling through the sky, yet it is conveyed with oxymoronic placidity. In the sea of Solaris, it’s there.
Nimrod, please take these highly poetic, abstract musings and distill them into something just a bit more tangible. Your observations are as elusive as the constantly morphing seas on Solaris's surface. Also, reconcile the implicit tension between "teleology" and "collapse."
Some viewers get bored with the film Solaris. I found it calming to watch. Normally in films, everything moves too fast and the characters are shown on screen for about 3 seconds while the audience figures out what is happening. Often, I am the irritating one in the group that stops with the “hey, what’s going on?” which wasn’t the the case while watching this film. The silence in between the shots gave me the time to better process what is happening.
I fell victim to frustration by the slow pace of Solaris. Though modern sci-fi's constant action has lost flair for my own taste, Solaris' use of panning, slow zoom shots, and extended shots of the same bit of water seemed exhaustive. There were times where my ears begged for dialogue to break up a scene. However, I think Tarkovsky's use of silence and stillness created inner turmoil in his viewers that reflected that of his characters. My frustration with the film allowed the space (forgive the pun) to think deeper, even asking, "Who would my mind conjure onto that ship?"
The development of entertainment and social media in recent years has inhibited the attention span of the new generation. Much more is required to capture and maintain the attention of an audience, which is often achieved with action scenes and an overall fast pace. An almost 3-hour runtime is always going to receive mixed reviews, even in a high-budget, action-packed film like Avatar: The Way of Water (2022). If Solaris (1972) were to come out today, I can see the long runtime and dramatic change of pace being an issue for the modern filmgoer.
I was less discomforted by the pace of the movie than I was by the plot. With sci-fi especially, I hope that a film makes a point, or doesn’t. We see a plant growing at the station, and Kris falling at his father’s feet, both pointing toward what feels like Kris’ discovery of the importance and privilege of life. But we then see an expansion in which Kris and his setting are all just on an island of mysterious yellow mass on Solaris, dismantling any previous claim to revelation. I’d rather the ending just stop at the wonder of life, rather than making a question of whether it was real.
Tarkovsky’s philosophical and intellectually demanding Solaris is more geared toward moviegoers of the past, rather than today’s average film enthusiasts. Current popular sci-fi films, such as Marvel or Jurrasic Park films, require minimal thought or consideration to comprehend and appreciate the film and have set a certain precedent for modern sci-fi films. The majority of moviegoers expect an easy, minimal-effort break from reality from these sci-fi films. More mentally rigorous films such as Solaris, Tenet, or Interstellar, seem to leave their modern viewers perplexed and upset by their sluggish, and chaotic plot lines.
This contemplative, slow-burn film allows the audience to become at peace with Solaris’ lack of intense action. Normally, these ponderous films bore me, nonetheless, Solaris made me restlessly wait alongside the introspective, elongated timeline; however, Tarkovsky never provides an explanation, forcing the audience to reflect about the consciousness of the chronology alongside Kelvin. The use of nature brings us back to Earth, grounding our reality in a time of uncertainty with human nature. Moreover, the fires never go out, creating an everlasting moment. Has time truly passed or are we stuck in the psychological time of this never-ending film?
The leisure pace Tarkovsky uses to unravel his story in Solaris would struggle to captivate today’s audience. The top 3 grossing movies of all time are action movies, Solaris with its dialed-down action would underperform against contemporary movies filled with nonstop action and constant distractions. Films allow for the dramatization of sci-fi scenarios that fill our minds with unease and questions, to be witnessed and played out rather than imagined. Movies today need to have enough detail and more apparent character motivation to encapsulate a moviegoer, ambiguity like Tarkovsky utilizes would be lost on today’s audience.
Contemplative science fiction does not have to stand opposed to greater speed and clearer detail. Contemplative science fiction asks the viewer to look within human nature through the lens of story. Good story telling may require the painfully slow pace that characterizes Solaris (1972), or it may not. The modern film-goer has an increasingly short attention span, but they are not incapable of appreciating a well-told story. There is no room in modern film for unnecessarily drawn out shots, but there will always be room for slower tempo that provides essential tone to a well-told story.
In terms of today’s moviegoers, they require a less ambiguous package when it comes to science fiction. Nowadays, films are becoming less cerebral, because viewers want to turn their brains off for a few hours and escape. Some cerebral science fiction has done incredibly well since the 2010’s (like Inception, Tenet, and Interstellar), but Christopher Nolan has been the only director I’ve seen successfully bring those films back into the mainstream fold. Nolan attracts a certain audience who wants to think. There is space for both, but the space for the more complex films have become extremely limited.
In today’s modern cinematic universe, it is imperative that films maintain a quicker, more action packed pace than sci-fi films of the past. With apps such as Tik Tok taking over the public sphere, attention spans have decreased dramatically and films such as Solaris would have trouble engaging the modern viewer. Even when compared to films such as the newest rendition of Avatar, which undoubtedly has long, drawn out sequences, Solaris lacks the action and succinctness in order to succeed in the modern day.
Is extravagant adventure unnecessary in sci-fi? Solaris left me with existential questions and a substantial emotional reaction to its ending. Still, calling it a good movie seems odd, because throughout the 2:47 runtime I was miserable. Solaris was painfully slow, and ignoring the bland viewing experience because the film had some interesting ideas does a disservice to epic contemplative sci-fi experiences like Ad Astra, Bladerunner 2049, Interstellar, and Arrival. These films pose thought provoking questions like solaris, but do so through engaging futuristic stories of adventure. A great contemplative sci-fi film must also be somewhat piquant, and Solaris misses the mark.
The length and pace of Tarkovsky's Solaris allows the audience to really take in and process each and every scene. The audience is forced to hone in on their patience and settle in with the film which develops a deeper connection between the audience and the scenes. The slow pace is introduced within the very first scene showing beautiful shots of a river streaming surrounded by plants that create a gentle and relaxed feeling; this comfort is shortly disrupted with an introduction of the protagonists accompanied by an unsettling noise that changes the tone. By taking the slower route then the more typical flashy fast paced sci-fi movies sets this film apart in a good way.
Nature for myself has always been a way to escape the distractions and commotion that fills our everyday lives. When I find myself overwhelmed or stressed, whether it be from the troubles of the present or uncertainty of the future, I often escape to nature to gift myself the time and medium to block out all the noise. Just the other day, I drove out to Morro to watch the sunset on the rocks, and I couldn’t help but notice the collection of individuals, from college students to retirees with headphones and sunglasses on, also taking the time to escape.
The slow pace you mentioned in the video is certainly a relic of an older time. Movies like 2001: A Space Odyssey, Soylent Green, and Solaris all existed in a pre-Star Wars sci fi realm. The concept of sci fi in itself was able to draw interest. But eventually, there became so many sci fi movies that being in that genre alone didn’t guarantee you’d stand out. Not to mention the attention span of the public dropping considerably in recent times, a slower pace movie is a luxury the modern industry cannot afford.
-Ryan Keighran
Tarkovsky’s painstakingly slow film speed is a powerful tool that alters and enhances the audience's experience of Solaris. The long-drawn-out shots that seem never-ending at times, grant the viewer a moment to isolate their own thoughts. Just as Kelvin faces his inner desires and suppressed memories, the audience is encouraged to do the same through the implementation of the film's slow speed. As Kelvin’s mind slowly deteriorates while he struggles with his own isolation, it is Tarkovsky’s intention that the viewer questions their own sanity while they anxiously await the next transition.
Tarkovsky’s slow-paced, philosophical sci-fi film Solaris is a breath of fresh air when compared to the plethora of other fast-paced, action-packed space fiction films consumers are so willing to eat up nowadays. The realistic pacing of the film hypnotically transports you inside the mind of Kris, into a realm of deep soul-searching which is perfectly juxtaposed with the emptiness and loneliness of space. This allows you the time to process and contemplate the events of the film where you can unravel the ambiguous message for yourself based on your own personal values.
Solaris's slow-paced film style allows for a unique viewing experience compared to the fast-paced modern films that we are accustomed to. The slow pace of Solaris allows time to build a more deep emotional connection with the characters and their journeys throughout the film, while also building anxiety as the viewer waits for the next transition. Long uninterrupted shots give viewers time to fully absorb what is happening in each scene, giving viewer's a more immersive experience and more time to contemplate themes and ideas that are currently on screen.
Among the hard-hitting moments in “Solaris” (of which there were many), perhaps one of the most jarring was Tarkovsky’s juxtaposition of the bustling city landscape with Kris’s peaceful home. Tarkovsky’s viewpoint here seems to perfectly parallel Wordsworth’s in “Tintern Abbey”, suggesting that peace can only truly be found through connection with nature. He conveys this primarily through thoughtful use of sound; as he transitions from cityscape to nature, a deafening cacophony of daunting, spine-chilling sounds abruptly reveals a lasting silence. After such horrifying sounds, the silence doesn’t make the viewer feel lonely or isolated, but instead peaceful, with a feeling of resolution.
“Contemplative sci-fi” carries greater integrity than the typical action-packed version of the science fiction genre. Like Carl Dreyer’s decision with Vampyr, to value staying true to his art over box-office sales, Tarkovsky’s Solaris strays away from flashy tactics that attract maximum viewership, and instead aims for more profound goals, such as challenging our imaginations and intellects with the possible technological advancements of the future. Films whose directors are motivated beyond profits distinguish themselves because over time, special effects improve, leaving certain films outdated, whereas the thought-provoking ideas embedded in other films stand up to the test of time.
The pace of Solaris (1972) is slowed to a degree that leaves the viewer uncomfortable and apprehensive of what will come next. This incredibly slow pace contributes to the spine-chilling atmosphere in the film. From the first shot, the viewer is jarred out of the high-speed pace of everyday life and blockbuster action movies, straight into the unfamiliar and frightening world of Solaris. The drawn-out shots create a stark contrast between the familiar hustle and bustle of the viewer's life and leaves them in a foreign state that mirrors the foreign subject of the film.
Solaris’ slow progressive plot known as contemplative sci-fi, allows the audience to see the character’s emotions and thoughts as they progress through the story. Solaris took the frame of a suspense/romance film by displaying emotion and painted on the element of sci-fi visually with its set design and visuals. Arguably, the only aspect of sci-fi in the film is the concept of space travel. Inversely, Kelvin, boards the ship to help with the death of a scientist but appears to be chained down to the memories wife which stops him from being psychologically present in the film.
The "grace that could dissolve one's shame" is something that cannot be ascertained by any outside source. Kris' internal blame can be felt by each of us when we lay awake before bed, contemplating the worst things we have been a part of. Taking this conflict and suppressing it makes it a stronger subconscious motivator. Even when something is not your own fault, only you decide how you react. External growth is only visible after the internal has been completed.
Solaris is a film that demands your attention and rewards your patience by setting a more meditative and contemplative mood;. This science fiction movie goes beyond the typical space adventure story, and instead delves deep into the human psyche. The slower, introspective shots allow us to fully immerse ourselves in the characters' struggles in comprehending their world. In a world where we are constantly bombarded by information, Solaris serves as a reminder of the importance of taking a step back and reflecting on our own experiences in an increasingly complex world.
Tarkovsky’s Solaris explores human nature and what happens when we leave what is familiar to us and explore a vast expanse of unknown. Burton has a particularly heavy hitting line, he says, “Are you so quick to destroy that which you don’t understand?” Looking back on human history, there is a trend of colonizing and purging cultures that are different from explorers. This film implores the audience to reflect on why humans are so quick to seize power from or destroy that which is different from us. Hypnotized by the cinematography, the viewer spirals with these existential thoughts.
While most modern science fiction films use the genre as a spectacle and as something to hold the audience’s attention, many older films, such as Andrei Tarkovsky’s Solaris and 2001: A Space Odyssey, use the genre as a median to explore more personal and emotional stories of self-discovery. The slower pace of Solaris gives the audience time to deeply connect with the protagonist, Kris Kelvin, as he transitions from being fearful and cautious to accepting and understanding towards the phenomena he comes across. This strong, emotion driven connection creates a more impactful story about coming to terms with one’s past and allows the audience to relate to Kelvin’s journey of self-knowledge.
One notion that Dr. M made that resonated with me was how the genre of sci-fi, known for its exploring of the unknown, is an instrumental medium for human introspection. For example, Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey (1968) explores what it would mean for humans to transcend to a higher power, and what the future of human evolution be. Furthermore, more recent examples like Denis Villeneuve’s Arrival (2016) explore the crucial connections between people and the need for mutual understanding and communication. Both films can thoroughly explore personal issues for humans, yet are set amidst great technological achievement or the face of greater mysteries of the unknown like extraterrestrial creatures.
I think that there is a place for more contemplative science fiction films in today's film industry. These films often tackle big questions about humanity, the universe, and the nature of reality, and often make me reflect on these questions meaningfully. Additionally, slower-paced films make it easier to connect more deeply with characters and their journeys, allowing for a more emotionally profound viewing experience. Ultimately, it comes down to finding the right balance between action and introspection and creating films that speak to a wide range of audiences with varying preferences.
“Solaris” by Andrei Tarkovsky delves into the nature of human memory, love, and consciousness, and how these concepts shape human existence. Tarkovsky explores the conceptualization of how memory can plague us, and how we can become confined by our past experiences. Kris’s very soul in this film is engraved with his past experiences of his deceased wife in which; Tarkovsky uses the concept of love to probe the complexities of human relationships and explores the intricacies of their connection. The planet Solaris itself serves as a powerful metaphor for the human psyche, suggesting that our innermost desires and fears can be projected onto the external world, thereby shaping our experience of reality.
Whether it's TARS in "interstellar," acting as a more intelligent, real life companion, or the HAL 9000 computer in "Space Odyssey," speaking as though it has feelings. It's as though we are getting closer to encountering these concepts in real life rather than viewing them as far out phenomena. Sci Fi films have always been a way for people to fantasize about seemingly impossible worlds including computers who take over or living on another planet, despite this, living in a world where our technology has grown so rapidly its hard not to feel like these ideas aren't approaching us.
A melodic backbone is present in Solaris, a single classical piece that seldom plays. Compared to other “contemplative” sci-fi, multiple songs represent the changes in emotion and spectacle. Even an earlier film, 2001: A Space Odyssey, uses multiple orchestral songs that are lively and energetic in comparison. In place of traditional music, distorted noise plays while Burton sits in the taxi, indicating an unease for the supernatural element that rears its head in the film. Additionally, a lack of music can allow the viewer to hear diegetic sound and become immersed with the environment, like the hum of the spaceship.
Artificial intelligence is accelerating at an impressive rate recently, which brings us closer to self-awareness. This will bring up many discussions about moral issues to talk about. Some ethical theories have been tested by Isaac Asimov for artificial intelligence in a series of books called the Robot Series. The first book, “I, Robot” (1950), deals with the Three Laws of Robotics that at first glance seem to keep robots from committing crimes. But the reader later finds out that there is a loophole that allows a robot to commit a crime against a human being. This series shows that we have been thinking critically about the ethics of artificial intelligence for a long time and still don’t quite have the answer.
Through Kris’s journey from space and philosophical limbo back to grounding himself on earth, “Solaris” by Andrei Tarkovsky illustrates how we must value love most because the pursuit of truth and knowledge is fruitless. In the beginning, Kris is unemotional, grounded in logic, but when he is at the space station, he falls in love with a creation of his own consciousness based on his dead wife. He loses himself in his own mind and the boundaries of reality are broken, but at the end he humbles himself to the earth and grounds himself in love and nature.
Denis Villeneuve’s sci-fi film, Blade Runner 2049 (2017), serves as testament to the modern emphasis on “(replacing) questions with concrete answers” in focus upon oversaturated detail, an “updated interpretation for a new century”; but the new century’s focuses bode a dark future for cinema. Villeneuve’s film embodies the 21st century eye-candy emphasis: a Deakins masterclass with Neo-Noir bones of a story to show for it. Similar to how de Armas tosses Nabokov’s Pale Fire off-screen, recent cinema has tossed the “more measured pace” of storytelling to the replicant dumpster. Yet, this increased visual complexity adds nothing in meaning or plot. In the recent years of “theme park movies,” America desperately needs her own Tarkovsky- and fast, “Ere (our) stories die”(Hardy).
Movies are undeniably trending towards faster pace, increased action, and less ambiguity. As much as I love movies from the past 20 years, the industry appears to be heading in a direction I don’t support. Massive franchises like the MCU epitomize this trend, and audiences love it. The success of these franchises demonstrates that viewers lack interest in movies that require patience and critical thinking. I only hope that the movie industry of the next 2 decades still leaves room for films that attempt to challenge viewers.
While a big-budget sci-fi spectacle can be enthralling in its own right, “contemplative sci-fi” better encapsulates the reason we are so compelled by this genre. The exploration of these hypothetical realities can offer a thoughtful introspective into the human psyche in more ways than one. Examining the futuristic concepts found in science fiction such as interstellar travel can reveal our aspirations or our fears. Furthermore, the stories and themes we choose to delve into within these conceived worlds can expose our priorities in the real world. For a genre that’s defined by its speculative nature, there’s plenty of truth to be discovered.
Science fiction is a valuable tool for dissecting human nature. It offers new perspectives and thought-provoking depictions that challenge traditional assumptions about what it means to be human. By using non-human characters like robots, aliens, or artificial intelligence, sci-fi allows us to examine what makes us fundamentally human by presenting alternative possibilities. For example, "The Matrix" explores free will and what it means to have agency in the setting of a simulated reality, and "Blade Runner 2049" follows an artificial being wrestling with self-identity and purpose. These stories encourage us to question our own assumptions about what makes us human.
Slower-paced, contemplative science fiction provides an effective reflection on human nature by compelling the viewer to grapple with the questions it asks. Unlike more spectacle-driven sci-fi, the audience isn’t bombarded with stimuli of fantastical technology and strange creatures, which can draw all attention away from underlying themes and ideas. Instead, the content highlights these aspects of humanity and leaves time for them to breathe and grow. This forces the audience to confront those questions in new ways, such as how an AI film can lead to thoughts of life and the meaning of sentients.
Just as in Joseph Conrad's novel Nostromo, Solaris (1972) brings forth a confrontation of one's inner self-- wrought to emphasize the fragility of the human condition. From the moment Kris arrives on the space station orbiting Solaris, this is reflected by the disarray of the environment, the people, and the very nature of the mysterious alien ocean as it seeks to recreate the inhabitants innermost thoughts and desires. This fragility comes forth as Kris' normalcy rapidly deteriorates while lost in Hari, come full force by the closing sequence as Kris abandons human society for a floating island upon Solaris's ocean.
Humanity's desire to push the boundaries of possibility is our defining trait: it motivated Michelangelo to sculpt David, Newton to create calculus, and ultimately for Tarkovsky to direct Solaris. This desire is the catalyst for human achievement, yet often it’s tabled due to irrational fears brought about by commercial films. I am outraged that such influence is placed in the hands of scientifically illiterate filmmakers. Negative connotations in popular media slowed progress in numerous fields, including gene therapy and nuclear power. This influence has led us to our modern dystopian reality where science is overshadowed by catchy headlines.
The distinction made with contemplative sci-fi is a good label for those films less focused on action and big set pieces and more on the societal impact of scientific advancement. The idea of "designer babies" now on the rise as CRISPR advances would have truly drastic consequences if left unregulated. Like you mentioned, parents might be more inclined to add specific features rather than remove genetic diseases. While I understand the technology could help eliminated diseases such as diabetes, it truly makes you wonder if this leads us down the road of Eugenics and an even greater divide between those who are able to afford these modifications and those who can't.
Although contemplative sci fi can occupy its own space, there's no doubt that films with faster pace and clearer character direction will reach modern audiences much easier. I have always found it at least somewhat difficult to watch most pre-1980's films simply based on what I watched growing up. Consuming more recent films that have a faster pace and less ambiguity as a child set an expectation going forward that films will usually be like that - it's challenging to encounter something new. It's when a new challenging film can really impact one that cinema is the most powerful and effective.
In my experience, I find that sci-fi reflects human fears over human nature, although it is not unusual for people to fear human nature and what people are capable of during times of conflict. It’s similar to how many of the science fiction novels mentioned in the video shape their world to mirror their fears about technology or war. Solaris was produced in the Soviet Union during the Cold War, so it’ll be interesting to see if any themes related to this conflict will emerge and if its slow pace has anything to do with it.
I think the distinction between action-driven spectacular science fiction and "contemplative sci-fi" is overall fitting when it comes to the diverse landscape of science-fiction media. The classic distinction in the genre is Star Trek versus Star Wars, and I feel that's a question concerning this distinction, with classic Star Trek being more contemplative and Star Wars defining the "space opera" adventure archetype. Of course other media falls beyond these two, such as 2001: A Space Odyssey being perhaps more contemplative than Star Trek, or the world of the cult tabletop roleplaying game Shadowrun carving out a niche all its own.
Speaking about the act of watching a movie as a chance to decelerate brings to mind a struggle I find myself dealing with more as I mature. Life demands a lot from the average adult and since the world will only move faster as technology and communication cycles accelerate, the need for reflection and contemplation grows stronger. What Dr. M said about two authors who advocated for a break from society in nature. It reminds me of the urge I find in myself, to stop everything and lie down beneath the stars. As the pace of everyday experiences increases, movies that invite us to slow down will stand out that much more.
Solaris’ slow moving plot definitely bored some viewers and I was one of them. With never ending long shots, stranding the viewer to his seat, the movie felt exclusive to a certain audience that was willing to run a marathon to understand what was happening. There are current contemplative science fiction movies that I do enjoy, like Interstellar and Tenant. Unlike 1972 Solaris, the pace varies, grabbing the audience's attention and helping them want to think. Instead of feeling like an assignment that must be done, the variability of pace can create an exciting journey that encourages the audience to ponder.
While filmmakers have argued over speed, detail, and character development in the sci-fi category, one commonality unites them. Humans are engaged by a story that accurately predicts the cause of their suffering. As Dr. Marchbanks pointed out, thrillers detailing the possible effects of nuclear energy draw in audiences as this technology takes over. After Karl Marx called the wealthy bloodsuckers, horror novels such as Dracula followed. Around the 2008 housing crisis, films like Sinister excelled as they portrayed houses literally being (re)possessed. Zombie films have increased as Americans fear getting sucked into the mindless monotony of their mundane jobs.
In the film Solaris, the slow pacing and drawn out shots felt agonizingly slow in comparison to the stimulation we are used to with modern media. It seems as if today film makers count on the audience having a shorter attention span, which to some extent this film reinforced given the discomfort viewers have with the slow crawl that this nearly 3 hour film embarks on. Films like this where the consumption of the media takes some effort on the part of the viewer may be a rarity in modern times, but also hold more potential for viewer satisfaction as they feel accomplished at figuring out something that wasn’t spoon fed to them.
-Patrick mcgonigle
In a dilapidated spacecraft, crew members suffer from hysteria due to their proximity to strange celestial phenomena. Kris Kelvin stands in a handsome parlor with an image of a Bruegel painting and an image - or rather embodiment - of his dead wife. Tarkovsky’s poetic pace is at times difficult, but it succeeds in destabilizing the cognition of reality and ensuring the teleology of reality’s collapse. Both Kris and the audience conflate perception with memory, so nature may no longer be the solace of introspection.
Yeats writes, “A lonely impulse of delight / Drove this to the clouds . . . In balance with this life, this death” regarding a conflicted, doomed airman hurtling through the sky, yet it is conveyed with oxymoronic placidity. In the sea of Solaris, it’s there.
Nimrod, please take these highly poetic, abstract musings and distill them into something just a bit more tangible. Your observations are as elusive as the constantly morphing seas on Solaris's surface. Also, reconcile the implicit tension between "teleology" and "collapse."
Some viewers get bored with the film Solaris. I found it calming to watch. Normally in films, everything moves too fast and the characters are shown on screen for about 3 seconds while the audience figures out what is happening. Often, I am the irritating one in the group that stops with the “hey, what’s going on?” which wasn’t the the case while watching this film. The silence in between the shots gave me the time to better process what is happening.
I fell victim to frustration by the slow pace of Solaris. Though modern sci-fi's constant action has lost flair for my own taste, Solaris' use of panning, slow zoom shots, and extended shots of the same bit of water seemed exhaustive. There were times where my ears begged for dialogue to break up a scene. However, I think Tarkovsky's use of silence and stillness created inner turmoil in his viewers that reflected that of his characters. My frustration with the film allowed the space (forgive the pun) to think deeper, even asking, "Who would my mind conjure onto that ship?"
The development of entertainment and social media in recent years has inhibited the attention span of the new generation. Much more is required to capture and maintain the attention of an audience, which is often achieved with action scenes and an overall fast pace. An almost 3-hour runtime is always going to receive mixed reviews, even in a high-budget, action-packed film like Avatar: The Way of Water (2022). If Solaris (1972) were to come out today, I can see the long runtime and dramatic change of pace being an issue for the modern filmgoer.
I was less discomforted by the pace of the movie than I was by the plot. With sci-fi especially, I hope that a film makes a point, or doesn’t. We see a plant growing at the station, and Kris falling at his father’s feet, both pointing toward what feels like Kris’ discovery of the importance and privilege of life. But we then see an expansion in which Kris and his setting are all just on an island of mysterious yellow mass on Solaris, dismantling any previous claim to revelation. I’d rather the ending just stop at the wonder of life, rather than making a question of whether it was real.
Tarkovsky’s philosophical and intellectually demanding Solaris is more geared toward moviegoers of the past, rather than today’s average film enthusiasts. Current popular sci-fi films, such as Marvel or Jurrasic Park films, require minimal thought or consideration to comprehend and appreciate the film and have set a certain precedent for modern sci-fi films. The majority of moviegoers expect an easy, minimal-effort break from reality from these sci-fi films. More mentally rigorous films such as Solaris, Tenet, or Interstellar, seem to leave their modern viewers perplexed and upset by their sluggish, and chaotic plot lines.
This contemplative, slow-burn film allows the audience to become at peace with Solaris’ lack of intense action. Normally, these ponderous films bore me, nonetheless, Solaris made me restlessly wait alongside the introspective, elongated timeline; however, Tarkovsky never provides an explanation, forcing the audience to reflect about the consciousness of the chronology alongside Kelvin. The use of nature brings us back to Earth, grounding our reality in a time of uncertainty with human nature. Moreover, the fires never go out, creating an everlasting moment. Has time truly passed or are we stuck in the psychological time of this never-ending film?
The leisure pace Tarkovsky uses to unravel his story in Solaris would struggle to captivate today’s audience. The top 3 grossing movies of all time are action movies, Solaris with its dialed-down action would underperform against contemporary movies filled with nonstop action and constant distractions. Films allow for the dramatization of sci-fi scenarios that fill our minds with unease and questions, to be witnessed and played out rather than imagined. Movies today need to have enough detail and more apparent character motivation to encapsulate a moviegoer, ambiguity like Tarkovsky utilizes would be lost on today’s audience.
Contemplative science fiction does not have to stand opposed to greater speed and clearer detail. Contemplative science fiction asks the viewer to look within human nature through the lens of story. Good story telling may require the painfully slow pace that characterizes Solaris (1972), or it may not. The modern film-goer has an increasingly short attention span, but they are not incapable of appreciating a well-told story. There is no room in modern film for unnecessarily drawn out shots, but there will always be room for slower tempo that provides essential tone to a well-told story.
In terms of today’s moviegoers, they require a less ambiguous package when it comes to science fiction. Nowadays, films are becoming less cerebral, because viewers want to turn their brains off for a few hours and escape. Some cerebral science fiction has done incredibly well since the 2010’s (like Inception, Tenet, and Interstellar), but Christopher Nolan has been the only director I’ve seen successfully bring those films back into the mainstream fold. Nolan attracts a certain audience who wants to think. There is space for both, but the space for the more complex films have become extremely limited.
In today’s modern cinematic universe, it is imperative that films maintain a quicker, more action packed pace than sci-fi films of the past. With apps such as Tik Tok taking over the public sphere, attention spans have decreased dramatically and films such as Solaris would have trouble engaging the modern viewer. Even when compared to films such as the newest rendition of Avatar, which undoubtedly has long, drawn out sequences, Solaris lacks the action and succinctness in order to succeed in the modern day.
Is extravagant adventure unnecessary in sci-fi? Solaris left me with existential questions and a substantial emotional reaction to its ending. Still, calling it a good movie seems odd, because throughout the 2:47 runtime I was miserable. Solaris was painfully slow, and ignoring the bland viewing experience because the film had some interesting ideas does a disservice to epic contemplative sci-fi experiences like Ad Astra, Bladerunner 2049, Interstellar, and Arrival. These films pose thought provoking questions like solaris, but do so through engaging futuristic stories of adventure. A great contemplative sci-fi film must also be somewhat piquant, and Solaris misses the mark.