“As for our historic insignificance, I cannot agree with you. Do you not find something significant in Russia’s present position to amaze the future historian? …not for anything in the world would I change my country or choose another history than the history of our forefathers as God ordained it.”

Alexander Pushkin in a letter to a friend

It is a widely held belief among Russians that there is a special connection between them and their homeland. Throughout their history, Russians were forced to defend their homeland, their religion, and their general way of life from various invaders, religions, and elements of nature. The special connection between Russians and their homeland, both emotionally and spiritually, is shown, among other things, via nostalgic references in folklore and literature, and culminates in Russian Film in the 20th century.

The special sort of nostalgia Russians often feel is, of course, a product of many generations and many influences. First of all, Russia is a vast expanse of land, easily the largest country in the world, with a relatively low population density. This huge country is the middle-ground between the “East” and “West”, in between the Asian and European worlds and traditions. Russia has historically acted as a buffer between these Eastern and Western traditions-especially acting as a buffer to Eastern advances and keeping the West separate from said advances. But while acting as a buffer, Russia remains distinct from both East and West-Russia is not a part of the Eastern oriental tradition; nor did it completely participate in the Western scientific and artistic revolutions.

Acting as a buffer, Russia protected Christianity and the West as a whole by continually stopping invaders from the east (e.g. Mongols/Tatars and Islamic invaders), but were still in fact attacked by Western Christians (e.g. Catholics and Protestants). Even as the protectors and, in their view, saviors of Christianity from Eastern attacks, Russians remain a sort of outcast among Christian traditions since the Eastern Orthodox split from Papal Christianity. So even though Russians share a basic faith with Westerners-that of Christianity-they view themselves as not only the bearers of the one and only true faith, distinct from other Christian traditions, but also as being independent and cut off from these other traditions.

As a result of these geographical, cultural, and religious influences, the Russian psyche identifies strongly with its homeland, country, and religion, and Russia has become not just a material and empirical home, but also a spiritual home that is distinct from other cultures. Obviously not just Russians, but other peoples also have nostalgic feelings for their homeland or for simpler times, and each person inevitably finds something special in their particular nostalgic feelings. It would seem, however, that the unique circumstances Russians consistently found themselves in makes them identify with such feelings even more so than people of other cultures and traditions.

Any sentiment felt on such a broad level, such as nostalgic feelings, is bound to show up in a culture’s defining elements. As such, one can find nostalgic sentiments at a fundamental level of Russian culture: its folklore. There are common nostalgic elements in various folk tales, such as this short one: There is a man sinking in a slimy pond, and another man risks his life to save the sinking man. After the man is saved, while the two men are exhausted from the whole ordeal, the sinking man says, “You idiot! Why did you do that? I live in there!”-offended that the other man risked his life to “save” him. The story, told in Andrei Tarkovsky’s film Nostalghia, exemplifies the love of a man’s home: it is analogous, from the sinking man’s perspective, to a foreigner trying to “save” a Russian culture from its relative inferiority to many parts of the world for centuries. The Russian, however, is not interested in being saved but is interested in his “slimy pond” over all else. There are still other elements in Russian folklore that contribute to their strong identity and nostalgic feelings: the character Baba Yaga, an evil witch that lives in a far off land who tries to trick innocent Russian boys and girls; the messenger in The Speedy Messenger who is stuck at sea and longs for his home1; young boys tasked to defend their Russian homeland under extremely difficult circumstances such as in Prince Ivan and Princess Martha2 and Know Not3.

Even Russian legends (extensions of folklore but often based on fact) show nostalgic references. Alexander Nevsky, infamous patriot and Saint of Russia and the Orthodox Church, is one such legend. Sergei Eisenstein’s film entitled Alexander Nevsky shows an entire nation of Russians who are willing to die for their homeland. Although the film is obviously a Communist propaganda film, showing religion as evil, essentially ignoring Nevsky’s piousness and the Russian Orthodox faith altogether, it is accurate in its depiction of the strong sentiment of connectedness with the homeland. There are continual references to defending Russia against foreign invaders and uniting for the good of Russia versus the individual (which is of course a Communist ideal, but also a common communal Russian sentiment). Near the end of the film, in fact, Nevsky gives a speech to his people and demands that for all generations to come Russians must be united for the good of the Russian motherland or else Nevsky and his sons will kill them!

The particularly Russian breed of nostalgia, however, culminates in Andrei Tarkovsky’s films, with continual references throughout his oeuvre, but special attention paid to the topic in his film entitled Nostalghia. It is important to note that nostalgia is only a vehicle used by Tarkovsky to display certain spiritual ideals, and though his films consistently reference nostalgic elements in Russian culture, the movies are not actually about nostalgia per se. But even so, the fact that Tarkovsky continually uses a Russian’s feeling of nostalgia to display his all-important spiritual ideals shows how much of an impact it has made on the film maker, and what an important topic it is to his culture. So even though these nostalgic elements are only a vehicle to display other points, there is at least a small emphasis on nostalgia in all of Tarkovsky’s movies but his diploma work, The Steamroller and The Violin.

Like in Eisenstein’s Nevsky, Tarkovsky deals with war and invasion in his first film out of school. Ivan’s Childhood takes place in Russia during World War II, when Germany is invading (only the latest in a storied past of foreign invaders). In the film, the main character, Ivan, longs for his childhood in Russia. He wants a simpler life-the life viewers see in his dream sequences-not one of war, hatred, and complicated adult problems.

The young boy’s nostalgia for his childhood is echoed in Tarkovsky’s later film entitled Mirror. In Mirror, one gets an ominous feeling of an oppressive Big Brother (i.e. the Soviet Regime) complicating the lives of the people, which serves to extend their nostalgia not just to their homeland, but to earlier, simpler times-especially for the narrator, who idealizes the simplicity and innocence of childhood, but realizes the impossibility of returning to that state. The impossibility of returning to a previous life is also shown in Mirror when a Spaniard idealizes Palomo Linares, a famous Spanish bull fighter, and his wife says it is impossible to return to Spain no matter how much she wants to, because of her present circumstances. Mirror also blurs generational bounds of the past and present. Tarkovsky purposely has four important roles played by only two actors: the boys Ignat (the narrator’s son) and Alyosha (the narrator as a child) are both played by the same boy, and the narrator’s youthful mother and his ex-wife are played by the same woman.

Tarkovsky’s first science fiction film, Solaris, shows a different type of nostalgia. Rather than being nostalgic for a more simple time, the hero of Solaris, Chris Kelvin, finds he is connected to his home (i.e. Russia) at a spiritual and emotional level. The basic premise of Solaris-exploration of a foreign planet-has many nostalgic elements as well. Chris brings dirt from Earth with him to Solaris; the library on the space station is very human, with paintings, books, etc. from Earth (a very warm, human room contrasted with the cold sterile space station); and finally, Gibaryan, a psychologist who commits suicide on Solaris, is, before he dies, very adamant about his wish to be buried on Earth in the soil of his homeland.

Tarkovsky’s next to last film, aptly titled Nostalghia, mixes nostalgia for one’s homeland, one’s family, and for a simpler life. Recalling his feelings before making Nostalghia, Tarkovsky says, “I wanted to make a film about Russian nostalgia-about the state of mind peculiar to our nation which affects Russians who are far from their native land. … I wanted the film to be about the fatal attachment of Russians to their national roots, their past, their culture, their native places, their families and friends; an attachment which they carry with them all their lives, regardless of where destiny may fling them.”4 Tarkovsky himself was always under scrutiny by Soviet critics, and constantly had to fight for his artistic expression under his oppressive government. By this point in his career, early in the 1980s, he was fed up with the bureaucracy and had already seriously considered defecting to Italy (which he would eventually do shortly after completion of Nostalghia). This decision, however, tormented him and he became very homesick during his time away from Russia. His longing for Russia profoundly affected Nostalghia.

The basic plot of Nostalghia is simple: a Russian writer named Andrei-it is no accident that the hero of the story and Tarkovsky share a first name-is in Italy researching a famous Russian musician’s life (Sosnovsky), and during his time in Italy he is extremely melancholy and nostalgic for his Russian home and family. Andrei has a heart condition-the source of his demise in the climactic scene in St. Catherine’s pool as he “saves the world”-which is the perfect metaphor for an ailing, homesick “heart”. He undergoes a spiritual change due to his meeting with the town Holy Fool, Domenico. Throughout the entire film, viewers see continual dreams, flashbacks, and daydreams that tend to consist of the following: one or more members of his Russian family, including (presumably) his mother, wife, daughter, young son, and his dog; a very simple one story wooden farm house with obligatory chimney on top, placed in a beautiful Russian landscape; one or more barking dogs; the universal and omnipresent human element, water, dripping, splashing, or running; and finally, the sequences tend to be in black and white. All of these contribute to an undeniably nostalgic feeling even for non-Russians (who, according to Andrei in the film, can never understand Russians or their way of life). The opening scene shows essential nostalgic elements: family, homeland, and “man’s best friend” and common symbol of family, faith, and loyalty-a dog. His family is walking from the camera, the distance between family and man increasing in this black and white sequence as viewers hear the faint sound of a barking dog. His family looks lost, as if waiting for Andrei to return.

Numerous other scenes evoke a similarly strong sense of nostalgia. A daydream Andrei has early in the film shows a white feather fall from overhead to symbolize the faith and spirit that are in his homeland. As he bends over to pick up the feather, a wedding dress, wedding ring, and wine glass are shown in a muddy puddle, implying problems caused by his absence from home. Andrei then turns his head-a white spot is shown in his hair for the first time in the film, which viewers will later see growing in proportion to his spirituality and faith-and he looks at his simple Russian home to see an Angel pause, look at him, and walk inside his house, obviously meaning to show where Andrei’s heart and spirit are. All the while, water is heard running in the background. Tarkovsky adds the perfect touch to the scene in putting a tire swing on the tree in front of his house (typical of his impeccable attention to detail) which is swaying back and forth, lonely from lack of use by Andrei and his son. The final scene of Nostalghia has the hero, Andrei, sitting on the ground in front of his Russian house with his dog at his side, and a large puddle of water in front of him reflecting something from behind. As the camera pans back, it starts to snow and viewers see that the reflection turns out to be the ruins of a great Roman cathedral. Andrei’s ailing heart from being away from his Russian homeland is finally eased and the two beautiful lands and cultures, one of sophistication and beautiful decay and one of simplicity and natural beauty, are reconciled in what can only be interpreted as Andrei in Heaven.

In Tarkovsky’s final film, The Sacrifice, there is a similar connection between man and home: Alexander, the hero of the film, confidently proclaims that his home was made for his family alone, and that no other house was as perfect. Later in the film, however, Alexander sacrifices his family, his house, and his entire life to God in a sudden leap of faith under the dire circumstances of nuclear war, if only “things could go back to the way they were yesterday.” God grants his wish (either that, or Alexander was dreaming), and he is carted off to the mental hospital with his weeping family watching from behind. He fulfilled his end of the bargain with God. Tarkovsky implies in this final film of his brilliant oeuvre that, though the connection with one’s homeland is very strong and important, one’s connection to God and his authority is of paramount importance-even over family and homeland.

Tarkovsky shows many examples of the feelings a Russian has for his homeland both emotionally and spiritually. Throughout Russian history, Russians have been at odds with nature, warring peoples, and religious groups, all resulting in this nostalgia for their homeland and a close communal instinct many seem to have. The Soviet Regime of the 20th century with its oppressive government only exacerbated nostalgic feelings, making people long for earlier, simpler times. Nostalgic sentiments are shown all over Russian culture: folklore, religion, literature, and finally film-particularly Andrei Tarkovsky’s films.

Footnotes:

1 Alexandr Afanas’ev, Russian Fairy Tales (1945), p. 124
2 Fairy Tales, p. 79
3 Fairy Tales, p. 97
4 Andrei Tarkovsky, Sculpting In Time (1986), p. 202