5/5 "I Am Interested in Man, for He Contains a Universe Within Himself"
  by Rocky Raccoon (Boise, ID)
It may not sound like the best way to spend over two hours of your time, but "The Sacrifice," (famed Russian director Tarkovsky's last film) shoots his film to perfection. Drawing from the pensiveness of Bergman, Tarkovsky also vividly shows some shattering emotional scenes when a birthday celebration turns from mirth to terror as a household faces the spectre of what one can assume is possible nuclear annihilation from World War III. The acting is often superb and the intensity of some of the scenes is tangible (in a way that made it's nearby predecessor "The Day After" in America seem provincial.)

The contrasts are brilliantly drawn: From surreal dream vignettes to horribly vivid scenes of destruction and despair, 'The Sacrifice' both encompasses a myopic and comprehensive vision of what it means to face the terror of violence when it swoops it's unwelcome way into people's lives and when they're least expecting it. I was struck by some of scenes which painted in small landscapes what one would normally expect from a broad brush.

In the special features we see the making of this masterpiece. Sometimes it tediously goes into every detail, but that merely shows the director's perfectionism. More worthwhile are some of the philosophical renderings which underscore the thoughts and processes of the director. (It clocks in at 1:41, but the movie itself is 2:22 minutes long.)

Finally, some of these thoughts may be apt for giving some insight into the film and the director: "I am not interested in the development of the plot in the chain of events...I have always been interested in a person's inner world, and for me it was far more natural to make a journey into the psychology that informed the hero's attitude to life into the literary and cultural traditions that are the foundation of his spiritual world...I am interested in man, for he contains a universe within himself..." Andrei Tarkovsky

5/5 A rich creation of auteur cinema at its most thought-provoking, but with an elegant, very coherent close that will appeal to all
  by Christopher Culver
OFFRET ("The Sacrifice", 1986) was Russian director Andrei Tarkovsky's last film, and the second produced in exile. As a tribute to fellow filmmaker Ingmar Bergman, Tarkovsky choose to work with a Swedish-language script, bring onboard Bergman's renowned cinematographer Sven Nykvist, and give Swedish actor and Bergman favourite Erland Josephsson the lead role.

The setup of the movie is fairly simple: the former thespian and university lecturer Alexander has withdrawn to a Swedish island, spending his days musing on the brokenness of creation and the cruelty of mankind. His only joy is his young son (a mainly silent part, as the child is recovering from tonsil surgery). Alexander's daughter, his ex-wife, her new lover, and his two servant girls are at hand for Alexander's birthday celebrations. But the festivities are interrupted by a horrific development: the outbreak of a nuclear war, turning the world outside their island to ruin. Faced with this apocalypse and the dangers to his son, Alexander prays to God that God reverse it, promising to give up his entire life and all that brings him happiness to save those he holds dear.

This is auteur cinema, and like the works of Bergman and the 60s greats, OFFRET may appeal to a minority of typical filmgoers. The initial half of the film is powered mainly by dialogue, and the baroque statements that Tarkovsky gives to his characters may not be to all tastes. I, however, rather enjoyed them, as they are suggestive of the theatre of the absurd written by such playwrights as Beckett and Pinter. We find interspersed, however, strikingly surreal shots that provide a release from the main action at the same time that they comment on it (am I the only one who gets a hint of Beckett's "Breath" in the street scene?). The turning point of the film, as Alexander goes through a dream-like sexual encounter, is sure to baffle viewer at first.

*However*, the climax of the film elegantly reveals the purpose behind all the mysterious moments before, tying the drama up in a coherent and downright touching way that will satisfy the skeptics. Even if you hate auteur films, I encourage you to watch this film and hold on through the end. I like how the closing of the film features a long uninterrupted shot which mirrors the long interrupted shot of the beginning, and both are among Sven Nykvist's finest achievements.

5/5 Tone poem superb!
  by tuberacer (Honolulu, Hi.)
Hey, where was Bergman during the shooting of this? It's a peculiar film that way. It's made in Sweden, the main actor is one of Bergman's primary actors of the time, the cinematographer is Bergman's favored cinematographer, and where's the location? Bergman's island? While watching the film I kept wondering if Ingmar had something to do with it somewhere. It might work as an homage to Bergman's style, and there are some strong similarities that come to mind with Bergman's "Through a Glass Darkly"--the setting, foghorns, visions, insanity, a relationship with God, sacrifice. If you like this one and haven't seen that one, go watch it and see what I mean. You won't be disappointed. "Through a Glass Darkly" conjures up one of the most chilling images you'll ever hear.

As for this movie, well...what can you say? It's genius at work...obviously. Any attempt at critical analysis would require a lot of time of re-watching and consideration and investigation. I'd not want to pretend I yet have an informed appreciation of someone's vision which is so highly developed and complex, but I know art and genius when I see it. Actually, many geniuses--director, cameraman, actors--that put this film together. You don't like the word genius? Use your own word--savante, master, visionary, pioneer, etc.--but these are obviously artists at the top of their field and top of their form at work here. No it's not the Mona Lisa of films, but it's by some Leonardos, and "Leonardo always terrifies me."

What's cool about the DVD is it's got a film of Tarkovsky making this film and some exposition of his philosophy and cinematic concepts which will help you grasp the depth of his vision. You'll get some thoughts on the artistic process from the man himself which will linger with you, possibly forever.

If you have a grasp of the poetic, and intelligent, cinematic aesthetic, you'll like this one. Nykvist is at his prime here behind the camera and Tarkovsky is ruthless in his evocation of true expression. The acting is all spot on, and the last scene is a memorable wonder to behold.

What does it say about our civilization that many of the most highly acclaimed films in history are "no longer available?" Maybe we've entered the Dark Ages again.

4/5 Swan song
  by Kerry Walters (Lewisburg, PA USA)
Tarkovsky's relatively early death robbed us of one of our greatest film makers. "The Sacrifice" was his final film, directed after Tarkovsky had been diagnosed with what he knew was his final illness. In the film, which he originally planned to entitle "The Witch," Tarkovsky clearly wants both to help himself make sense of the ending he's personally facing, and to invite viewers to think about the existential issues raised by mortality in general.

The film's plot is simply told, although there's nothing at all simple about the actual film. Friends and family gather at a remote house to celebrate the author/actor Alexander's birthday. Shortly afterwards, nuclear missiles fly over the house, and the television, before going dead, announces that a nuclear war has erupted. In despair, Alexander prayerfully promises to sacrifice everything if the war can be averted. He sleeps with a local witch, an action that is supposed to bring wishes true, and at the film's end he burns down his home and is hauled off to a madhouse. The war seems to have been averted--indeed, time seems to have slipped backwards following Alexander's sacrifice, obliterating the opening nuclear salvo.

The film is visually beautiful, with the long shots characteristic of Tarkovsky's cinematography, perfect compositions in individual scenes, chiaroscuro throughout, delicate almost pastel colors alternating with deep, dark shadows. The acting is also good, especially Erland Josephson's portray of Alexander. And the script is intriguing in places, especially Alexander's opening monologue reflecting on the transcience of existence with his son, the "Little Man." Given that Tarkovsky dedicated the film to his own son, it's not outlandish to suppose that the opening scenes were intended as Tarkovsky's parting message to his own "Little Man."

The film's themes are both intriguing and important. What does it mean for the world to end? Such an ending is quite different from an individual's death, but in what ways? What's the connection between spiritual and physical death? What does it mean to make a sacrifice? If we offer up a sacrifice for the sake of others, do we ever really quite understand what we're getting ourselves into? Is the sacrifice that's actually exacted what we intended it to be?

But despite all this, the film is flawed. Too much is crammed into it--it's as if Tarkovsky, knowing he was running out of time, pulled together in one movie everything that he'd hoped to have a lifetime to say. What he does say here is worth hearing, especially because his own death imparts a realworld melancholy to a melancholic cinematic theme. But as a stand alone work of art, "The Sacrifice" isn't in the same league as, for example, his "Andrei Rublev" or "Solaris."

5/5 A haunting final sacrifice
  by Amaranth (Northern California)
Andrei Tarkovsky's "The Sacrifice" is a quietly philosophical masterpiece. It's about the end of the world, but don't expect massive explosions and asteroids headed to the earth. Alexander (Erland Josephson) is an atheist in an unhappy marriage with his younger wife Adelaide (Susan Fleetwood) Adelaide is carrying on an affair with his doctor. He has a bored teenaged daughter,as well as a very young son he calls "Little Man" and "Word." Alexander wonders about the purpose of life; he has lost faith. When he hears about the impending nuclear holocaust, he spontaneously offers to God everything he holds dear.

Alexander's sacrifice turns out to not be what he expects. Like Abraham, his sacrifice is of a different nature he assumed. The postman tells him that he can reverse the apocalypse by making love to the servant girl, Maria, who is thought to be a good witch. Alexander goes to Maria. Sensing his desire, she embraces him. He fears his impotence, but she gives him a magic drink that arouses him. They make love in mid-air. After the lovemaking, Alexander pours out his heart to Maria in a powerful monologue. Maria seems to be a combination Nature Goddess/ Virgin Mary figure.

The movie concludes with Alexander's other sacrifice, and an unexpected ending. Little Man finally speaks, and the viewer is left with more questions than answers. In his final movie, Andrei Tarkovsky deftly blends Zen Buddhism, Christianity (as represented in Leonardo Da Vinci's "Adoration of the Magi"),Nietzsche, and questions about the apocalypse. It's a deeply mystical and symbolic film, leaving food for thought.