"...ve o muhteşem Andrey Rublev filminde bir sanatçı trajedisini sanatın trajedisi haline dönüştürecek o korkunç ağır darbeyi vuruyordu. Beşyüz yıllık bir mesafede, 15. yüzyıl ressamı Andrey’in 20. yüzyıl sinemacısı Andrey Tarkovski’nin hayatının resmini yapışını bu ikincinin filmi olarak seyrediyor olduğumuzu varsayarsak belki de sinema tarihinin bu en iyi filmini daha rahat kavrayabiliriz..."
The first half had me deeply immersed in the film's mood, photography and characters. Yet I seriously lost focus during the second half of the film. Whereas its relevance to Tarkovsky's own predicament and to that of Russia at large is clear, the film as such sadly stretched beyond what it could sustain.
How much of spiritual essence can actually claim to be located in biographical detail? In Tarkovsky's eyes it seems secondary that Rublev might paint pictures - secondary, or so obvious it doesn't need stating. It makes 'Rublev' more history than biopic, with the joke being that the individual here prevails against history. To an extent its grandiosity also means that each chapter is better than the whole for me.