“The Mirror” may exhibit striking camerawork, oneiric visuals and liquid camerawork that seems to ooze like honey, but pretty images alone don’t quite cut it. On all other fronts, this sleepy autobiographical abstraction hardly registers, its nonlinear non-narrative more an incentive for apathy than productive provocation. I don’t take umbrage with Tarkovsky’s attempts at mixing memory and dream into a kind of contemplative freeform, but when it fails to illicit in me even an iota of interest I can’t help but wonder what the point was. For all its poetic and artistic ambitions, “The Mirror” just sits there, aloof and seemingly more concerned with its own self-importance than engaging with an actual audience.