Full of woe
Euan Cameron
TIME WITHIN TIME: THE DIARIES OF ANDREY TARKOVSKY translated from the Russian by Kitty Hunter-Blair Seagull Books, Calcutta, distributed by Central Books, London, £25, pp.392 In December 1975, in his last diary entry for that year, Andrey Tarkovsky quotes Stendhal: 'Life is very short, and it ought not to be spent crawling at the feet of mis- erable scoundrels.' Tarkovsky never crawled to anyone, but throughout these diaries, which begin in 1970 and end with his death at the age of 54 in 1986, the great Russian film director repeatedly .records his impotent fury and frustration with the Soviet authorities who, at a time when juries in the West were awarding prizes to films such as Andrey Rouhliev and Solaris, refused to allow him to work, considered his powerful autobiographical film, Mirror, `subversive' and did their best to prevent it from being shown in public.
Tarkovsky's early optimism after the success of his early films had given way to a Chekhovian despair. He was deeply un- happy, forever in debt, worried about everything from his lack of recognition to the cost of furnishing his dacha; above all, he felt humiliated by the authorities' treat- ment of Mirror. The dejection was only lift- ed by thoughts of his baby son and by the relative peace of his dacha at Myasnoye. In many ways Tarkovsky saw himself as a
`martyr' to the stifling Soviet system (indeed the title to one of the diaries in Russian is `Martyrolog', 'pretentious and false as a title', he later notes, tut let it stay there as a reminder of my ineradica- ble, futile worthlessness'), and scarcely a month passes without his registering his bitterness towards the bureaucrats who infringe artistic freedom, who are 'fright- ened by real art', and who are destroying Russia and making life unbearable.
Tarkovsky's problems with the Goskino reach a crescendo towards the end of 1979. He is 'surrounded by hatred, stupidity, self- ishness and destruction'. He writes, 'The year is finishing, full of unresolved anxi- eties, unrealised dreams, and plans which are leading no one knows where.' Some sort of escape — death or exile — seem the only course, and as we read these absorb- ing diaries we witness the pendulum of fate swinging inevitably towards a climax that culminated with the press conference in Milan in July 1984 at which he announced his defection, the filming of his last work, Sacrifice in Sweden, the agonised waiting for his 14-year-old son to be finally• released, and his death in Paris at the end of 1986.
It is unlikely that these diaries were ever intended for publication by their author, and they have probably been considerably edited. They are at once a record of the working life of a film director many consid- er to be a genius and a commonplace book in which Tarkovsky jots down ideas and quotations that please him (e.g. from the Bible, Chaadayev, Chekhov, Hesse, Dostoievsky, Thoreau, Tolstoy). On a deeper level, however, this book records a quest for faith in which we recognise the essential motivation for all his work.
The appeal of Tarkovsky's films is per- haps a rarefied one, but it knows no front- iers of ideology or class. Tarkovsky's admirers came from all walks of life, as was obvious to anyone who attended the lec- tures he gave in London in 1984. He had about him the charisma of a guru, and for . . The novelty dance prize goes to . his acolytes his films, his book, Sculpting in Time, and his public utterances were cru- cially important simply because in a con- fused world they seemed to contain the essence of truth. The experience of watch- ing a Tarkovsky film, obscure and 'difficult' for some, is for others a profound one. In the manner of all great art, the films are demanding and one does not expect to be entertained, but for his admirers they pro- vide an intense emotional experience of an intellectual truth.
Many scenes in Tarkovsky's films are like snatches of dreams, and it is fascinating to read his detailed descriptions of dreams and nightmares that are haunting and remarkably vivid. Spiritual reflections apart, these diaries give us Tarkovsky's aide-memoires; verbatim letters to the authorities; gossip about his friends and fierce remarks about others; his reading (Hesse, 'with whom I have so much in com- mon', Mann, Shaw, Ibsen, Lorca); compli- mentary comments about his films (there was clearly a need for acclaim, which he was never given officially until after his death); the amounts earned from lectures; the state of his health (often delicate). He is a bit of a Jeremiah, constantly bemoan- ing the 'spiritual deficiency' of his home- land where he is surrounded by 'lies, cant and death', and even in England he notes a friend's comment that 'money and make- believe [are] replacing the life of the spirit'. With some satisfaction, one feels, he quotes Dostoievsky
. . . the Paris Commune and Western social- ism do not want the best people, they want equality, and would chop off the head of a Shakespeare or a Raphael,
and there. is some disenchantment with the West where, he notes, 'anything is allowed, provided that "anything" can be sold.' And he has little time for any of his fellow film- makers: Bondarchuk's Waterloo is 'embar- rassing', Bunuel's Tristana, 'vulgar', Bertolucci's La Luna 'cheap and vulgar', Fellini's 'last film is a disaster', while a film by Jancso is 'monstrous rubbish'. Only Bresson, who 'is afraid of nothing', escapes such condemnation.
In Italy the gloomy introspection lifts and his entries for 1980 record a busier life in which he is given the recognition that should always have been his due. He is making Tempo di Viaggio, working on the script of Nostalghia, and forming a close friendship with Tonino Guerra. Italy enchants and inspires him, as it does the hero of Nostalghia, but soon, like the char- acter GoYchakov, who was based on the 18th-century composer Beryozovsky, and like many a Russian émigré before him, he becomes acutely homesick. In that film Gorchakov lights a candle as he walks towards his death. In this book Kitty Hunter-Blair's fluent translation brings us closer to Tarkovsky than one would have thought possible and ensures that the candle he lit will continue to burn brightly.
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