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Palma 2022-04-23 07:01:42
Images, shots and spiritual souls of the old tower
About Tarkovsky's films, people have mixed opinions, some people worship it, some people think it is long and boring, I am of course the former.
Every shot in Stalker is so picturesque, and every picture is so poetic, and the information conveyed is ubiquitous. In the stalker's dream,...
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Adela 2022-04-22 07:01:09
those who believe in me have eternal life
After reading this book, I believe that the realm of thinking of the old tower has reached another stage. Starting from Andrei Lublev, we have been seeing the figure of the firm ascetic in the films of the tower. The tower's view of religion can be simply summed up in the words "believe and have"....
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Nicholaus 2022-03-26 09:01:04
The distant shadow of Lone Sail is in the blue sky, and I can only see the long shot of Ta's. I can't understand it, I will watch it again.
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Tania 2022-03-20 09:01:34
Despair and desire, nothingness and mission, freedom and bondage, a collision of beliefs is a torture of what you need and why you live. The colors and sound effects are particularly prominent, the reality is gray, and the "zone" is colorful, but beautiful things are often deadly, and the stalker, because he knows the rules, dominates the desperate and aimless people in the forbidden zone of human nature, but can only be used as a guide. Without the true meaning, two intellectuals combined to crack the human code: the room can give you instinctive needs, but it cannot give you soul
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Writer: No one in the world has a conception about the Zone, so it'll be a sensation. Television, you lady fans getting hot flashes, people carrying brooms as if they were laurel wreaths. Then our professor appears all in whit and declaims, "Mene, mene. Tekel upharsin." Naturally, everyone gapes and shouts, "Give him the Nobel Prize!"
Professor: You bedraggled hack writer. You homegrown psychologist. Fit only to scribble graffiti in lavatories, you talentless clod.
Writer: That's feeble stuff. Call that an insult? You don't know how it's done.
Professor: All right. Suppose I'm after a Nobel Prize. What are you after? Want to bestow on mankind the pearls of your bought inspiration?
Writer: I spit on mankind. In all of mankind, only one man interests me. And that's me. Am I worth anything or am I shit like certain other people?
Professor: What if you find out that's indeed what you are?
Writer: Know something, Einstein? I don't want to argue with you.
Professor: Truth is born in arguments, damn it.
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Writer: Listen, Chingachgook. You've brought so many people here.
Stalker: Not as many as I would like.
Writer: It doesn't matter. Why did they come? What were they after?
Stalker: Happiness, more than anything.
Writer: Yes, but what kind of happiness?
Stalker: People don't like to reveal their innermost thoughts. Anyway, that concerns neither you nor me.
Writer: You've been lucky. All my life, I have never seen one happy person.
Stalker: Nor have I. They return from the Room and I guide them back. And we never meet again. Wishes don't come true immediately, you know.
Writer: And you've never wanted to make use of this Room?
Stalker: I'm fine as I am.
