At the dawn of World War III, a man searches for a way to restore peace to the world and finds he must give something in return. The director's last film, made as he was dying of cancer, The Sacrifice is Tarkovsky's personal statement, a profoundly moving, redemptive tragedy steeped in unforgettable imagery and heart-wrenching emotion.
Susan Fleetwood
Allan Edwall
The Ritz, Penzance
The Ritz, Penzance
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Thoughts
A man plants a dead tree with his young son on the shore of a Baltic island and tells him a story about watering it every day. Later, at his birthday gathering, news arrives that ends the ordinary world. What he does in response is a private transaction: he offers everything he has, his house, family, speech itself, in exchange for the morning coming back.
In the other films in this season someone takes on in some way another person; here a man attempts to take on the whole of humanity, which is either the ultimate form of the impulse to save, or its derangement. Maybe both.
Narratively there are no dissolves, no signals, nothing to tell you where the dream begins, so the sepia passages and the devastated street sit at exactly the same level of reality as the birthday lunch, the whole film turns on an event that may not have occurred. This is where the permission Bergman took in Persona arrives at its furthest point, which is fitting: The Sacrifice was shot by Bergman's cinematographer on Bergman's Baltic with one of Bergman's actors, and the light in it is unmistakably the same light.
A man gives up his voice here, a boy who has had almost none until now finds his.