You can feel every minute of this Russian behemoth’s nearly three-hour run time, but in a good way. That’s just how long it takes when a scientist rockets to a mysterious ocean planet to check up on a troubled space station and then starts seeing his dead wife follow him around the hallway, which leads to lots of slow, deliberate conversations about the unconscious mind, grief and the ultimate irrationality of love.
Director Andrei Tarkovsky is in absolutely NO rush here. When someone goes for a walk outdoors, Tarkovsky joins them and takes long looks at the trees. It’s a film that moves to an exotic and unfashionable rhythm today. It drones and wanders, with an eye for beauty and a storyteller’s grasp on the suspense. It never forgets its story, which is why this holds up today. This isn’t Jerk-Off Time. Not everyone’s going to follow Tarkovsky’s music to the very end, but that’s why they call it a cult movie.
I recommend a theater setting for this one if you have the chance. Your ass should be numb and your eyes should be bleary by the end for the full Solaris experience. You should trample out into the light like a zombie and bump into a wall. Sit in the front if you want your senses filled. Sit in the back if you want to enjoy the walk-outs.