Lime said that human exploration of space is simply to expand the boundaries of the earth. It's almost the same argument that humans are looking for aliens in space to find themselves. Reflections on anthropocentrism became the greatest philosophical myth of the 20th century: Are humans really the masters of all things? What makes Solaris a valuable philosophical text is that it also contains statements about the limitations and insignificance of human beings. If there is to be an indefinable definition of Solaris, it is philosophy outside of philosophy, some unspeakable phenomenon and language. The huge unknowable and utter confusion that human beings face in the face of the universe, the mind, and the brain has become clear.
Tower expresses this immense dazedness and fear in his genius cinematic language. Plenty of unnamed pilot shots always give the viewer the feeling that someone is watching without knowing who is. Whether it is the beginning of the film or a series of pictures after Chris boarded the spaceship: the aimless panning of the camera and the absence of the viewing subject make it seem that there is an intangible force outside the picture, completely subverting the "stitching" in the classic Hollywood narrative. "Idea, the wandering gaze of the nameless makes you engulfed by a tremendous amount of unease and depression. No special effects are used, but it is more "space-like" than any space film, because the tower captures the sense of insignificance of people in space and the fear of facing the infinity of the universe.
"Harry" picked up the photo of Chris' deceased wife, eyes full of surprise, and turned to her own face in the mirror. This is an interesting shot. The face-to-face between simulacrum and simulacrum, the overlap between mirror image and simulacrum—how limited and absurd human cognition is, how vulnerable anthropocentrism is.
Tower uses black and white and color to separate the real from the unreal, until Chris shows "Harry" his memories with his ex-wife, and the memory suddenly turns into color, suggesting that Chris has accepted the simulacrum of his deceased wife. The psychological barrier between fantasy and fantasy is broken.
The tower's decisiveness is to tell people that in dealing with this kind of disaster, the characters have no possibility of redemption. There was no consolation to the audience until the end. Chris returned to his father's log cabin, where he peered through the glass, where a curtain of rain began to appear. Inside and outside scenes become indistinguishable, and the feeling of unreality grows stronger. That inner torment and doubt came back. As his father walked out the door, Chris knelt on the ground and hugged his father's leg, tears welling up in his eyes. After that, the camera began to rise and pan greatly, and the sea of clouds that enveloped Solaris reappeared.
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