Deleuze Tarkovski

American Association of Teachers of Slavic and East European Languages
DELEUZE ON TARKOVSKY: THE CRYSTAL-IMAGE OF TIME IN "STEAMROLLER AND

VIOLIN"
Author(s): Robert Efird
Source: The Slavic and East European Journal, Vol. 58, No. 2 (SUMMER 2014), pp. 237-254
Published by: American Association of Teachers of Slavic and East European Languages
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DELEUZE ON TARKOVSKY: THE CRYSTAL-IMAGE
OF TIME IN STEAMROLLER AND VIOLIN
Robert Efird, Virginia Tech
Though it is frequently obscured by the shadows of his later works, An

Tarkovsky's 1960 VGIK diploma project Steamroller and Violin is a rema
ably innovative short which seems too often to be dismissed as juvenilia
studied primarily with an eye to the filmmaker's mature aesthetic.1 Comin
at only 45 minutes, the relatively scant attention afforded the film in critical
erature is understandable but perhaps not entirely justified. Already at the
liest stages of his career the filmmaker challenges the passive viewing expe
ence and traditional structures of cinematic perception. The camera m
with remarkable fluidity between subjective and objective angles, spatial rel
tionships are subtly or sometimes drastically undermined, and palpable
sions emerge, as different levels of reality or time seem to coexist, even ov
lap. It is in this last respect, perhaps more than anywhere else, that Steamrol
and Violin merits a deeper examination. It is the work that initiates Tarkov
sky's career-long aesthetic investigations into non-chronological temporal d
mensions with experiments fundamentally similar in scope, yet markedly d
tinct in design from the style that would emerge in the coming years.
The rise of Gilles Deleuze 's theories on cinematic temporality and the abi
ity of the medium to create a sensation of time beyond the normal successi
of discrete moments has provided a pivotal but often difficult perspective
this aspect of Tarkovsky's cinema. Over the past decade a number of stu
have touched upon correspondences between the theories of the philosop
and the filmmaker, but while there seems little dispute that Tarkovsky's w
1 . For the most part, commentaries on the film are confined to larger studies and genera
as in Peter Green's assessment, it is "as a forerunner of the later films and a point of refer
for Tarkovsky's stylistic development" that the film achieves significance (20, 21). This is
to say that the evaluations are negative. Boldyrev, for instance, describes it as a "little mas
piece" (117), and Turovskaya, with cautious enthusiasm, characterizes it as a work "whic
serves to be regarded as an integral part of Tarkovsky's oeuvre" (27). On the other hand, the
most recent monographs on Tarkovsky's work, Nariman Skakov's The Cinema of Tarko
Labyrinths of Space and Time and Thomas Redwood's Andrei Tarkovsky's Poetics of Cine
contain only fleeting references to the short work, nearly ignoring it entirely.
SEEJ , Vol. 58, No. 2 (2014): p. 237-p. 254 237
238 Slavic and East European Journal
falls under the loose rubric of "time-image films," in-depth examinations of

how the films actually bear this out are relatively rare.2 Deleuze himself was
no stranger to Tarkovsky's work and uses his ideas specifically several times
in the text of Cinema 2: The Time-Image to help define what this term means
and describe how the direct image of time is possible. In the preface to the
English edition, for example:
The image itself is the system of the relationships between its elements, that is, a set of relation-
ships of time from which the variable present only flows. It is in this sense, I think, that
Tarkovsky challenges the distinction between montage and shot when he defines cinema by the
"pressure of time" in the shot. What is specific to the image, as soon as it is creative, is to make
perceptible, to make visible, relationships of time which cannot be seen in the represented ob-
ject and do not allow themselves to be reduced to the present, (xii)
These "relationships of time," expressions of time as creative difference

rather than successive chronology, and their irreducibility to the present are
central to the conception of the time-image. On this general theoretical level,
the affinity between Tarkovsky and Deleuze is often striking.3 For both, it is
the actualization of time, " imprinted in its actual forms and manifestations ,"
that constitutes the central subject and often untapped potential of cinema
(Tarkovskii 1967, 70).4 While such points of contact are compelling, the ac-
tual application of the theories has been decidedly less so, and Deleuze 's own
engagement with Tarkovsky's films is disappointingly brief and fragmentary.
He never convincingly describes what it is in these works that creates the con-
ditions for the direct image of time, and the concepts are never illustrated by
2. While they do not attempt to pursue analyses strictly along the lines of Deleuze's theories,
two of the more thorough examinations of time in Tarkovsky's films, Skakov's monograph and
Robert Bird's Andrei Tarkovsky: Elements of Cinema , acknowledge early on the importance of
the philosopher's ideas in relation to the filmmaker's work and reach conclusions at least par-
tially informed by his writings. In general, there has been little dispute with Slavoj Žižek's ob-
servation that "[pjerhaps Tarkovsky's films are the clearest example of what Deleuze called the
time-image replacing the movement-image" (249), but, with the exception of Anna Powell's
analysis of Stalker (1979) in Deleuze , Altered States and Film , the most informative studies on
the correspondences between Deleuze and Tarkovsky (Mark Riley's "Disorientation, Duration
and Tarkovsky" and Terence McSweeney's "Sculpting the Time Image") deal primarily with
theory and take relatively few examples from the film themselves.
3. It is actually with a quote from Tarkovsky's 1979 article "On the Cinematic Image" (pub-
lished in French translation in 1981) that Deleuze illustrates the emergence of the direct image
of time from the movement-image:
"The time in a shot must flow independently and, so to speak, as its own boss": it is only
on this condition that the shot goes beyond the movement-image, and montage goes be-
yond indirect representation of time, to both share in a direct time-image, the one deter-
mining the form or rather force of time in the image, the other the relations of time or of
forces in the succession of images (relations that are ho more reducible to succession,
than the image is to movement). (1989, 42)
4. Italics in the original. Unless otherwise noted, all translations from Russian are my own.
Deleuze on Tarkovsky 239
representative scenes in the way they are with the films of say Welles or
Resnais. Instead there are interesting but ultimately frustrating descriptions of
the filmmaker's "sodden washed and heavily translucent images" and an in-
triguing, though never fully articulated reference to the "liquid crystal" char-
acteristic of his works (Deleuze 1989, 75). Still, Deleuze effectively clarifies
Tarkovsky's apparent concentration on the shot (as opposed to montage) as
the primary vessel of temporal pressure or force. As he argues, the film-
maker's concentration on the temporal force of a single shot "is only superfi-
cial in appearance, because the force or pressure of time goes outside the lim-
its of the shot, and montage itself lives and works in time" (1989, 42). In fact
montage is critical in establishing various "relations of time," from which the
time-image itself emerges. However, Deleuze does not, in any practical de-
tail, examine the relationship between montage and the distinctive plan -
séquence nor any of the more focused long-takes, arguably the cornerstones
of Tarkovsky's cinematic grammar. It may be true, as McSweeney argues,
that it is with "Deleuze that we find the closest approximation of Tarkovskian
cinematic ideals," but the parallels are often far from perfect and the articula-
tions of the time-image can illuminate only specific, albeit key areas of any
given film (80). The concepts themselves may also demand considerable
modification when applied to developments later in the filmmaker's career.
The crystal-image, a distinct figure for the more general concept of the time-
image in which past and present, virtual and actual coalesce, contains aspects
vital to all of Tarkovsky's work. However, the various layers, circuits, and di-
mensions of time at different stages of crystallization in Steamroller and Vio-
lin will emerge in new forms later with the filmmaker's notorious long-takes,
which Deleuze nearly ignores and which his descriptions may not always be
well equipped to handle.
But despite these lacunae, the mixed success of analyses that have at-
tempted to integrate Deleuze 's ideas on time into considerations of
Tarkovsky's films, and the obvious difficulty of making these works consis-
tently conform to any theoretical standard (often including Tarkovsky's own),
many of the concepts described in Cinema 2 do shed considerable light on
what strikes so many viewers as unique, and often problematic, in all of
Tarkovsky's work. And surprisingly, perhaps nowhere do Deleuze's theories,
particularly those of the crystal-image, conform to Tarkovsky's practice as
closely as they do in Steamroller and Violin.5 This short film provides an ex-
5. As with the time-image, which Deleuze never explicitly defines, the crystal-image is an
often slippery concept that may appear in any number of permutations. In one of the more con-
cise explanations, Felicity Colman describes the crystal-image as one of the central terms for
determining the time-image: "the crystalline image of time, is variously referred to in the cin-
ema books as 'the time crystal', 'the crystal-image', 'seeds of time', 'mirrors of time' and the
'hyalosign', and appear where the expression of time coalesces, and the image both expresses
emplary illustration of the concept in general and, with the integration of

water into the modes of crystalline exchange, grants a considerable amount of
credence to Deleuze 's almost offhand description of the "liquid crystal"
image unique to Tarkovsky's work. But it also calls into question some of the
philosopher's larger conclusions on the filmmaker. Though Deleuze himself
describes the crystal-image as the central factor in Tarkovsky's films, he also
adopts, to borrow the phrase from Anna Powell, an "overwhelmingly pes-
simistic slant on Tarkovsky's crystalline properties," one that suffers from
both a limited selection of the director's work and an overly generalized read-
ing of the individual films- understandable problems for a study composed
without the aid of DVDs or even vidéocassettes (156). There is little reason
to suspect he never saw the other works, but Deleuze confines his brief com-
mentary to those of the 1970s, roughly contemporary with the writing of his
cinema books. In a more concentrated focus on individual scenes or even
shots, this restriction would not be so problematic, but with the philosopher's
tendency to generalize the entire body of work, crucial counterpoints to the
"morbidity" and inescapable opacity he sees in Tarkovsky's crystal-image are
easily missed. Conspicuously lacking the long, ponderous shots of the natu-
ral world or the more extended narrative and temporal experimentation of
films like Mirror (1975) or Stalker (1979), Steamroller and Violin may hardly
be the best or most comprehensive representative of the filmmaker's oeuvre.
But this relative simplicity also makes it less difficult to identify some funda-
mental points of contact between Deleuze's theories and Tarkovsky's prac-
tice, which may indeed be expanded in considerations of the later develop-
ments. Even in this comparatively immature production, there are a number
of specific scenes that both justify the description of the liquid crystal and re-
fute the negative connotations ascribed to it. But most importantly for this
study, the theoretical framework of Deleuze's protean time-image reveals
critical aspects of this short film that have passed largely unnoticed in the five
decades since it was made.
Shot in color and double the length of the standard VGIK project, Steam-
roller and Violin was a comparatively elaborate short that benefited im-
mensely from artists who later helped shape Ivans Childhood (1962) and
Andrei Rublev (1966), and would soon become some of the most important
and produces a composite (time-image) of different types of layers of time, and different signs
of time, or crystalline circuits of time" (135-36).
In distinguishing the modern cinema of the time-image from classical cinema, Deleuze de-
scribes an organic regime of the movement-image, which links images together to form a ra-
tional totality of the world. The crystalline regime associated with the time-image, on the other
hand, will frequently de-link images, drawing the fundamental veracity of the narrative and the
world itself into question. As Rodowick explains, "the sensorimotor schema implies a world ap-
prehensible in an image of Truth as totality and identity [...]. In contrast, the direct image of time
presents situations where the problem of time puts the notion of truth into crisis" (84-85).
figures in Soviet cinema. The screenplay was co-written with Andrei Koncha-
lovsky, Viacheslav Ovchinnikov composed the score, and Vadim Iusov, per-
haps the most important collaborator given the visual density of the film, han-
dled the cinematography. Iusov, famously, was actually the second choice of
the brash student filmmaker; the job was originally offered to Sergei Urusev-
sky, who shot Mikhail Kalatozov's seminal Cranes are Flying (1957). But de-
spite the obvious influence of Kalatozov's film, as well as Albert Lamorisse's
The Red Balloon (1956), Steamroller and Violin is surprisingly bold in its
originality.6 Deceptively couched in the conventionally Soviet plot of a priv-
ileged young musician learning about life from an upstanding member of the
working class, a relationship conspicuously paralleled with Chapaev (1934)
towards the end of the film, political consciousness and social responsibility
never emerge. Quite the contrary, as Alastair Renfrew writes:
The core significance of The Steamroller and Violin- quite apart from the individual elements
that are predictive of the full-length films that will follow, such as its reliance (insistence) on the
psychological and technical perspective of a child- lies in the way it appears to accept or, in a
sense, inhabit the stylistic and thematic framework of Socialist Realism, thereby re-accentuat-
ing and even subverting it to quite different ends. (102-3)
This "stylistic and thematic framework," as the filmmakers were well aware,
had long devolved into the realm of cliché. Recurring images, particularly the
ubiquitous reconstruction of the city, and the friendship at the center of the
plot, which Josephine Woll aptly labeled "a traditional worker -intelligent
alliance," are easily recognizable constituents in the formulaic chain of Social-
ist Realism (116). If nothing else, the plot is simple and (one would think) po-
litically inoffensive: Sasha, a gifted child plagued by bullies and unsympa-
thetic maternal figures, attaches himself to the charismatic worker Sergei,
spends part of a day learning to drive the shiny red steamroller, having lunch
with his new friend, and sulking when his mother refuses to let him out to see
Chapaev. The re-accentuation recognized by Renfrew arises with the disman-
tling of traditional associations and foregrounding instead objects or images
that, within the context of Socialist Realism, are essentially beside the point.
These movements did not go unnoticed at the time. Prior to release, as Robert
Bird has written, the Artistic Council complained that the film "displayed pro-
found ideological flaws," emerging in both the experimental form and the con-
spicuous disregard for developing the obligatory socialist messages hovering
at the periphery (31). It is not that the work parodies or openly subverts the
cliches to which it alludes: "[t]he problem was instead that his treatment of the
6. Tarkovsky 's early collaborator Aleksandr Gordon, as well as biographer Viktor Filimonov,
asserts that the director, like many other Russian cinéphiles at the time, was particularly inspired
by Lamorisse's work. The influence is apparent not only in the bright red color of the steam-
roller (as well as the numerous balloons appearing at the beginning of Tarkovsky 's film) but also
the evocation of an idealistic world at the conclusion of the film and the development of the
friendship between Sasha and Sergei. See Gordon 126-29, and Filimonov 110.
conventional themes and stories of the Soviet system avoided staking out an
explicit position, and this lack of definition was adjudged to be a dangerous
'silence'" (Bird 33).
But while Tarkovsky's incomplete deployment of reflexi vely familiar
tropes (such as the fragmentary May Day banners raised and then ignored
early in the film) and the failure to follow the traditional narrative trajectory
were considered artistic failures by the authorities, it is precisely from within
this deconstruction that the larger concerns of the film begin to emerge.7 The
refusal to meet conditioned expectations at the thematic level is mirrored sty-
listically, where illogical cuts and an unexpected concentration on everyday
objects serves to further remove customary associations, essentially breaking
the established conditions of diegetic reality and habitual patterns of percep-
tion along with ideological or political schemata. Such a disruption of the-
matic and stylistic cliché, according to Deleuze, stimulates active thought and
sets the conditions for the emergence of the time-image, serving "to rarefy the
image, by suppressing many things that have been added to make us believe
that we are seeing everything" (1989, 21). By the same token, this new orga-
nization seeks to restore "the lost parts, to rediscover everything that cannot
be seen in the image, everything that has been removed to make it 'interest-
ing'" (21).8 In Steamroller and Violin , as well as the later productions, this
rarefication or restoration is accomplished in large part by a striking departure
from traditional structures of cinematic subjectivity.
Sasha's pause before the shop window early in the film marks Tarkovsky's
first real endeavor in this area; there is little in his work on The Killers (1956)
and There Will Be No Leave Today (1959) to indicate a course so radically dif-
ferent from the standard (or classic) cinematic practice. As the boy looks into
the glass the camera slowly closes in behind his head, a move the filmmaker
would use throughout his career to initiate fantastic or oneiric sequences, or
simply to emphasize that the narrative is moving into the consciousness of the
character. Here, rather than immediately cutting, the camera swings into
Sasha's line of sight as he steps out of frame to the right. When the cut does
come the boy is then reflected in four small mirrors and looking slightly to the
side, a closer approximation of his gaze into the window. He suddenly looks
7. For Deleuze, where the cliché is "a sensory motor image of the thing" and sets of clichés
act as a kind of adhesive for the continuity and totality of the diegetic world, consciousness of
their use and the refusal to fulfill them (without resorting to parody or engaging in propagation)
marks "one of the five apparent characteristics of the new image" (1989, 20; 1986, 210). It is
also worth noting here that Tarkovsky himself expressed rather early in his career the intention
to break up the "prejudices" and "clichés of thought" surrounding established traditions and
techniques (1967, 69).
8. "Interesting" here in the sense that "we do not perceive the thing or the image in its entirety,
we always perceive less of it, we perceive only what we are interested in perceiving, or rather
what it is in our interest to perceive, by virtue of our economic interests, ideological beliefs and
psychological demands. We therefore normally perceive only clichés" (Deleuze 1989, 20).
away, a move which would seem to indicate the traditional point/glance shot,
but the succeeding images, which the editing deceptively suggests would be
the point/object shot, are again series of reflections. Multiple images of build-
ings and traffic offer a fragmented, virtual representation of the surrounding
world, a heavily stylized account of Sasha's perception but not, strictly speak-
ing, a subjective one. This becomes clearer as fractured images of a construc-
tion site give way to a woman dropping apples and a woman carrying balloons,
both of whom passed behind the boy several moments earlier as he first
stepped up to the window and could not possibly be seen from his position.
The image of the second woman moving towards the camera merges into that
of a girl, who moves away with a bundle of differently colored balloons.
Though none of these images can be coming from Sasha's point of view, the
kaleidoscopic montage nevertheless ties them to his gaze by inserting several
shots of him looking. The illusion that this is his perception is thus intentional,
but at the same time the shots are not objective in the usual cinematic sense.
Rather, "subjectivity is completely mystified through that practice of false
objectivism," a particular variation of what the Italian filmmaker Pier Paolo
Pasolini described as free indirect subjectivity (181). Here, rather than explic-
itly replicating perspective through the traditional point-of-view shot, the vi-
sion, emotions, and interests of the character are described from the position
of a second subjectivity which, in Deleuze 's revision of Pasolini 's concept,
"imposes another vision in which the first is transformed and reflected" (1986,
74). In these circumstances the film does not depict the character's gaze but
rather reshapes or frames it through an autonomous "camera consciousness."
In the shop window sequence this second position does not fully synthesize
two distinct subjective visions but rather, as described by Deleuze, constructs
"a differentiation of two correlative subjects in a system which is itself hetero-
geneous" (1986, 73).9 This technique, "a case of going beyond the subjective
and the objective towards a pure Form which sets itself up as an autonomous
vision of the content" (1986, 74), comes to the fore in a slightly different man-
ner a few moments later as the boy struggles through his music lesson.
Here, in arguably the most fascinating single shot of the film, we initially
see Sasha in a close-up, but, as in the first shot before the window, the cam-
era soon shifts from this objective angle into what would appear to be his line
of sight. After scanning the sheet music in an extreme close-up, the screen
gradually blurs as the boy becomes more and more lost in his playing. The
teacher's demand that he come to himself snaps his attention, along with the
image, back into focus and we find that his gaze has wandered over to a glis-
tening carafe of water, shaking slightly to the movement of the camera. Thus,
within the single shot, we have both an objective angle on the boy and what
9. Pasolini 's descriptions are, as Deleuze notes, adapted from Voloshinov's concept of free
indirect discourse in literature in Marxism and the Philosophy of Language.
appears to be a qualitatively subjective presentation of his gaze. Looking

more closely, however, it becomes clear that the latter portion of the shot,
rather than a direct representation of what Sasha sees, is again a transforma-
tion of his gaze, as if "the camera assumed a subjective presence, acquired an
internal vision, which entered into a relation of simulation ('mimesis') with
the character's way of seeing" (Deleuze 1989, 148). The sheet music rests at
an angle where Sasha could not possibly see it (it is closer to the camera than
he is) and the carafe, which appears in an extreme close-up, is actually situ-
ated on the other side of the room. But the wandering motion of the camera,
the fade into soft focus, and the jarring shift back into detail are all clearly co-
ordinated with the movement of the boy's thoughts, if not his eyes.
In Pasolini 's main example of free indirect subjectivity, Antonioni's Red
Desert (1964), the film, though often providing an unobscured objective
angle on events, frequently strays into the psyche of the disturbed Giuliana,
adjusting the presentation of the outside world to an approximation of her
perspective even when she is in the frame. Though the stylistic differences
between this film and Steamroller are substantial, particularly as the short
work lacks the degree of "obsessive framing" Pasolini finds in Red Desert
and Tarkovsky's young hero possesses none of the neuroses or fears that in-
fect Giuliana, there is a similar narrative orientation towards the character's
viewpoint. Even sequences which do not replicate Sasha's perception or fall
into free indirect subjectivity nevertheless seem influenced by his vision
(179). Here, instead of the bleak, gray images of decay, which dominate An-
tonioni's landscape, the orientation is very much toward that of a child; in
Turovskaya's description, "all is living, pulsating and redolent of the coming
spring" (25). With varying degrees of complexity, free indirect subjectivity
may be as much a hallmark of Tarkovsky's cinematic aesthetic as the long
take or the dream sequence. Similar instances may be found in the slow-
motion destruction of Vladimir in Andrei Rublev , the apocalyptic despair
which hangs over much of Sacrifice (1986), and perhaps most clearly in the
numerous sepia-tinted sequences of Stalker. But while it is remarkable that
this technique for approximating the consciousness of a character is already
developed in a student project that predates both Pasolini's explication and
the prime examples (Antonioni's film and Bertolucci 's Before the Revolution
(1964)) by nearly 5 years, the moves are seldom stylistic ends in them-
selves.10 The ambivalence or deterritorialization of perception and this cre-
ation of the camera as subject emerge as the first detectable components of a
10. In fact, as Deleuze suggests in Cinema 2, rather than being simply an aberrant category
within the perception-image, which itself is a kind of subcategory to the movement-image, free
indirect subjectivity may bring into question the veracity of the story and open it to what he
terms "the powers of the false," characteristic of the time-image. See Deleuze 1989, 148-49. In
such situations, "[t]he movement-image has not disappeared, but now exists only as the first di-
mension of an image that never stops growing in dimensions" (1989, 22).
larger disjunction between perception and action, one integral to the film's
presentation of non-chronological time.
The sequence at the shop window as well as the shot at the music lesson
herald the breakdown of logical spatiotemporal coordinates and consequently
the semblance of wholeness implied by regular continuity editing and the de-
ployment of stylistic cliché, what Deleuze (following Henri Bergson) labels
the "sensory-motor schema." Together with the shift into a kind of acentered
perception, this collapse is fashioned by the unexpected intrusion of irrational
cuts into the story, which rather than linking successive images together into
a continuous diegetic whole acquire autonomous value as a disjunctive force
of differentiation between them (Deleuze 1989, 213). As multiplied images
flash through the mirrors from indeterminate and, in the case of the woman
with the apples or the girl with the balloons, impossible points behind Sasha,
the boy himself inexplicably and instantaneously changes position several
times over the course of the scene. This discontinuity marks an abrupt depar-
ture from linear causality and with it an even more noticeable break between
perception and action. At varying distances from the window, Sasha is alter-
nately positioned facing it, with his back to it, and turned to the side. The dis-
persive editing, rather than linking the images, creates disruptive interstitial
gaps, which disconnect them into singular blocks of space and time. For
Deleuze the disruption would be the force of time operating within the inter-
val and giving way to aberrant movements and illogical spatial relationships,
amplified in Tarkovsky 's film by the shift into a destabilized perceptual
stance.11 But the experience in this sequence is also magnified by the use of
the mirrors. The lacunary montage of the sequence creates what Deleuze
would describe as "direct presentations of time," in this case juxtaposed pres-
ents conspicuously removed from an empirical chronology. With the mirrors,
however, the depth of the temporal image takes on an additional dimension,
a concentrated circuit of actual and virtual states, which reveals a temporal
process of "differentiation into two flows, that of the presents which pass and
that of the pasts which are preserved" (1989, 98). The virtual, incorporeal but
no less real than the physical, is this preserved past forever expanding from a
point of infinite contraction with the actual in the present, in addition to com-
1 1 . For Deleuze this force of time is the "power of the outside," which replaces the implied
spatiotemporal continuity of the diegetic world in classic cinema with the discontinuity of per-
petual becoming and differentiation: "as long as the whole is the indirect representation of time,
the continuous is reconciled with the discontinuous in the form of rational points and according
to commensurable relations [...]. But, when the whole becomes the power of the outside which
passes into the interstice, then it is the direct presentation of time, or the continuity which is rec-
onciled with the sequence of irrational points, according to non-chronological time relation-
ships" (1989, 181). These irrational points, as Bogue clarifies, "take on the continuity of simul-
taneous presents, coexisting pasts, or metaphoric becomings, and each of the irrational points is
the manifestation of a 'point of the outside from beyond the external world'" (182).
prising other intangible "[mļemories, dreams, even worlds" (1989, 81). In

Deleuze's account, which is heavily dependent on Bergson's Matter and
Memory , "[t]he past does not follow the present that it is no longer, it coex-
ists with the present it was. The present is the actual image, and its contem-
poraneous past is the virtual image, the image in the mirror" (1989, 79). 12
Cinema provides a figure for this operation when the actual (the physically
present) and the virtual (the contemporaneous past) are indiscernible, when
the distinction loses its relevance and the image becomes, to all appearances,
a double-sided image of the present and the past. In Steamroller and Violin
this occurs in tandem with the collapse of the sensory-motor schema and the
objective/subjective distinction, which directly reflects the ambivalence of
actual and virtual. This marks another point where the crystal-image seems to
have a close analogue in Tarkovsky's later theoretical writings as "[t]ime and
memory merge into each other; they are like the two sides of a medal" (1986,
57). 13 In more practical terms, this most concentrated point of the ac-
tual/virtual circuit is best exemplified and most conveniently rendered by the
mirror, in which the reflected image "is virtual in relation to the actual char-
acter the mirror catches, but it is actual in the mirror" (Deleuze 1989, 70).
The proliferation of these images at the shop window strongly recalls the
house of mirrors at the conclusion of Welles 's The Lady from Shanghai
(1947), Deleuze's example of the crystal-image par excellence (1989, 70), as
the reflections absorb and assume the actuality of Sasha as well as the world
around him. But this sequence, already complicated by the irrational cuts,
reveals more than just time's perpetual bifurcation. The multiplied and
asymmetric images suggest a multiplicity of divergent virtualities within the
mirrors which, rather than simply reflecting the boy or expressing the con-
temporaneous past, actualize different events splitting away from the "real"
world of the story as they fall into the past. Correspondingly, given the in-
discernibility or apparent superimposition of the actual and the virtual, these
images may act as figures for multiple points or events in the present. The
reflected images of a clock in the scene's penultimate shot suggest not
merely the stoppage or reversal of empirical time, but simultaneous singu-
12. The general descriptions of the crystal-image (and the overarching time-image) are tied
to the three schémas of memory and perception drawn up in chapters II and III of Bergson's
Matter and Memory : the circuit, the cone, and the event. A fourth schema, the dissymmetrical
jets formed at the point where time splits as it pushes into the future and falls into the preserved
past, is perhaps most relevant to the actual/virtual coalescence and the coexistence of the pres-
ent and the contemporaneous past described in the crystal-image. This schema, as Rodowick
points out (220), is actually drawn by Deleuze from his reading of memory formation in Berg-
son's Mind Energy.
13. As McSweeney points out (87), this may correspond to the actual and the virtual as the
two indiscernible sides of the crystal-image and also an area where Tarkovsky too seems influ-
enced by Bergson's ideas on time and memory.
larities within the present, a "coexistence of distinct durations, or levels of

duration" (Deleuze 1989, xii).14
Not surprisingly, particularly if we look ahead to Tarkovsky's later theo-
ries, these singularities are nearly all marked by a distinct temporal rhythm,
or time-pressure, at work within the shots. The changing images of water, a
kind of objective correlative to the process of time in every Tarkovsky film,
openly emphasize the variations: rivulets in the street, puddles, a reflection of
the river, jets spraying from a fountain behind the woman with the balloons.
In fact the sequence would seem to anticipate the filmmaker's later illustra-
tion of time's intensive flow, likening alterations to liquid movement: "We
will compare different temporal pressures with a brook, a stream, a river, a
waterfall. Their unification may give rise to a unique rhythmic design, which,
as a new organic formation, reveals the author's sensation of time"
(Tarkovskii 1979, 92). Though the rapid editing of this sequence is at odds
with the much slower pace of the later productions, the differentiation of tem-
poral rhythm in the individual shots revealed through the editing process
looks ahead to Tarkovsky's working theories of the 1970s:
Montage is the pasting together of smaller and larger pieces, which carry within themselves
different temporal consistencies. Their combination gives a new sensation of its flow, created
as a result of the gaps between shots, that which is removed and cut out by the assemblage.
(1979,91)
But more importantly for the present instance, water forms the physical and
metaphoric nexus of Tarkovsky's crystalline regime, the key element in a
continuum of images like mirrors and windows, which determines the distinct
characteristics of the film's individual crystalline signs. Of these, Deleuze's
description contains three potentially integrated aspects: "Exchange or indis-
cernibility thus follow each other in three ways in the crystalline circuit: the
actual and the virtual (or the two mirrors face to face); the limpid and the
opaque; the seed and the environment" (1989, 71). Remarkably for a film-
maker whose works seldom match up with theoretical blueprints, Steamroller
and Violin provides compelling examples of all three figures and, each of
them, as in the actual/virtual circuit in the sequence at the shop window, in-
volves water.
14. Duration, as adapted from Bergson, is a key concept throughout Deleuze's cinema books
though, like his philosophy of time, it often seems to rely on elaborations developed in his other
works. As Rodowick explains, this "transcendental form of time" is not quantifiable in discrete
intervals but is "an indivisible, ceaseless, and ever-changing flow" (123). Paradoxically, while
duration is singular and indivisible, as the past pushes into the future the perpetual unfolding of
duration produces a virtual multiplicity constantly changing and in flux. As Deleuze declares in
Bergsonism , however, this multiplicity "is precisely not 'multiple;' it is One" (85). The time-
image "goes beyond the purely empirical succession of time- past-present-future" (1989, xii)
to create an awareness or intuition of duration, "the virtual coexistence of all the degrees of a
single and identical time" (Deleuze 1991, 85).
The limpid and the opaque is actually an extension of the actual and the vir-
tual, a figure for the oscillation between virtual obscurity and clear actuality.
As Deleuze describes the event, "when the virtual image becomes actual, it is
then visible and limpid, as in the mirror or the solidity of finished crystal"
(1989, 70). Steamroller and Violin provides numerous distinct examples of
this circuit, which seem to mark deliberate stages in a progression. The first
is from the shot at the music lesson described above. There, where space has
been noticeably flattened and distorted, the image literally does fade into ob-
scurity, balancing in a perceptual limbo between subjective and objective
poles as the details soften. The shift back into focus pulls the image from
opacity, although the spatial distortion of the shot would seem to remain. It is
not by chance, given the later iterations, that this move into actuality, or at
least indiscernibility, from a virtual state occasioned by the music teacher's
admonitions, takes place as the camera focuses on the carafe of shifting water.
In the film's climactic scene, Sasha's impromptu recital for Sergei during
their lunch hour, instances of this limpid/opaque exchange abound. The set-
ting itself is the most typically "tarkovskian" of the film; a dilapidated struc-
ture in the process of reconstruction or disintegration, open to the elements
and filled with pools of water flashing reflected light on the walls. It is a clear
predecessor to the ruined church of Ivans Childhood , Domenico's home in
Nostalghia (1983), and any number of the buildings in Stalker. It is also a
compelling example of Deleuze 's "any-space- whatever," a disconnected or
empty space whose destabilization provides the soil for the emergence of the
purely optical or sound image disconnected with the ongoing action of the
story. This is a concept which covers a rather wide area in Deleuze 's writings
and here resembles perhaps most closely the indeterminate and destabilized
situations he finds in Italian neorealismi "deserted but inhabited, disused
warehouses, waste ground, cities in the course of demolition or reconstruc-
tion" (1989, xi). And it is precisely in this scene that we find the greatest
abundance of these "purely optical situations," where an image is divorced
from the sensory action-reaction patterns of classical cinema and, "instead of
extending into movement, links up with a virtual image and forms a circuit
with it" (Deleuze 1989, 47). As the friends talk and Sasha takes up his instru-
ment attention frequently strays to puddles and small pools of water left by
the earlier thunderstorm. Now, no longer simply the object of the camera's
gaze, water becomes quite specifically the medium of exchange or crystal-
lization. In these reflections we are again given a sense of the indiscernibility
of the actual and the virtual, or perhaps more accurately the emergence of the
actual from the virtual, one made all the more palpable by incessant shifts be-
tween clarity and opacity. For instance, just as the two finish their discussion
of Sergei's smoking habit there is a cut to an inverted reflection of the steam-
roller, dispersed by drops of water falling into the puddle and then resettling
into a clear description. A similarly unmotivated digression occurs just as
Sasha finishes playing. Now it is a grainy, softened image of the steamroller

in a puddle clouded with dirt. A drop ripples through the water and as it fades
the reflection settles into sharp clarity. Like the shot at the music lesson, water
is the object of the camera's gaze during the shift but now it also becomes a
medium of circulation between the real and the imaginary, and, with this, a
figure for the coexistence of the living present and the virtual past. Matching
shots, in which reflections of the steamroller or the trees outside the alleyway
are distorted and restored by ripples along the surface, reappear several times
over the course of the scene. Combined with the constant motion of shards of
light bouncing from the little pools onto the walls and the faces of the char-
acters, the scene, as well as many others that take place in the street, assumes
a particularly fantastic or oneiric quality, describing a world constantly on the
brink of sliding outside the normative chain of reality and returning to the
illogical breakdown of the sequence at the shop window.
But this is a point to which Steamroller and Violin does not quite return.
Though the final scene of the film deliberately contains elements featured in
the earlier sequences, they are now developed into a slightly different config-
uration. Following a dispute with his mother, which like so many examples
of miscommunication in Tarkovsky's works takes place in front of a mirror,
Sasha is locked in the apartment and forbidden from seeing Chapaev with his
new friend.15 The boy turns his attention to the mirror as notes recalling
Ovchinnikov's score from the earlier scene at the shop window begin to res-
onate on the soundtrack. Essentially, the turn to the mirror is itself a reflection
of this earlier scene and, as becomes clear as the sequence progresses, one in
a series of altered repetitions from previous points in the film. As Sasha faces
the mirror he also turns his mother's alarm clock, recalling the reflections of
time from the street clock in the earlier sequence. Here, however, the clock is
not turned to the mirror, at least not directly, but to a glass of water standing
in front of it. The move is a somewhat clumsy visualization of the analogy be-
tween water and the flow of time described by the filmmaker in his theoreti-
cal writings, but is nevertheless an effective introduction to the fundamental
narrative shift that follows.
At this point the camera moves into a close-up of the boy's reflection, and
the mirror itself now takes on the liquid properties of the puddles and pools
as ripples course through the screen and the image fades into obscurity. On
the one hand, this may seem a disappointingly conventional technique for
conveying the onset of an oneiric state, and one that Tarkovsky would aban-
don as early as Ivans Childhood. This signal, while psychologically moti-
vated, also appears to support the linear continuation of the narrative; we are
made aware before the fact that this will be some kind of reverie as the im-
ages fade out of focus and the breakdown of conventional narrative relations
15. See Johnson and Petrie's discussion of mirrors and non-communication, 224.
is ascribed to a logical cause.16 However, the mirror and, especially, water and
the liquid motion across the screen already identify the actual/virtual and
limpid/opaque circuit. The boy in the mirror is the actualization of the virtual
reflection which, as in the scene at the lunch break, fades back into opacity as
the surface of the image is disrupted. Essentially this is a reiteration of the
limpid/opaque circuit now expanded to encompass the entirety of the screen.
And like the earlier figures for the limpid/opaque circuit, it is from this liq-
uid dissolution that the new, clarified image emerges. As before, water reveals
the most contracted actual/virtual circuit in the contemporaneity of the pres-
ent and the past, and functions as a medium of exchange. But now, assuming
the proportions of the screen and thus the totality of the diegesis, it also be-
comes the generative element for a fully new environment. In Deleuze 's
terms, water is the seed that actualizes the new milieu, the third mode of ex-
change in the crystal image: "the seed is on the one hand the virtual image
which will crystallize an environment which is at present [ actuellement ]
amorphous; but on the other hand the latter must have a structure which is vir-
tually crystallizable, in relation to which the seed plays the role of the actual
image" (1989, 74). 17 Here an apparently virtual liquid movement across the
mirror fully absorbs and obscures the actuality of the character. It is as if the
camera now pushes through the liquid surface of the mirror and into an ob-
scure virtuality on the other side of the reflection. This push actualizes a new
world at the point of immediate coexistence between the present and the past
in the mirror and crystallizes sheets of a virtual past, imperfect reflections of
earlier shots in the film, which now break into the present. It is this virtual
past carried throughout the film (but here made explicit) that forms the "vir-
tually crystallizable" structure, activated in this final sequence by the expan-
sion of liquid and reflective properties. The initial moments of the scene, for
instance, quite deliberately reiterate (with noticeable variations) earlier mo-
ments of the film. The movement of the camera into the boy's line of sight as
he turns to the mirror recalls the initial shot of the scene at the shop window,
the waves in the screen bring to mind the puddles at the lunch break, the door
and the descent down the stairs are all conspicuous repetitions from the open-
ing scene of the film. The final shot of the boy chasing and finally joining the
moving steamroller replicates in reverse the earlier reunion of the two friends
after Sasha had become lost in the thunderstorm. In both cases, and in oppo-
site directions, the boy must run across a thin stream cutting diagonally
through the screen to reach his friend, and in both the camera surveys the
16. The shift into an alternate reality, however, may not be clear to every viewer. Bird, for
instance, cites the complaints of at least one Soviet critic who contended viewers would not un-
derstand that the final sequence is actually a dream (31).
17. Deleuze here uses as an example the beginning of Welles 's Citizen Kane in which the ar-
tificial snow from a broken glass globe merges into snow clouds and the word "Rosebud" brings
forth layers of memory and the past (1989, 74).
Deleuze on Tarkovsky 25 1
same patch of pavement from the same high angle. As in so much of Tarkov-
sky 's later work, the present is always pregnant with the past, which seems to
require only the slightest nudge in order to emerge from obscurity.
The way in which these scenes frame the action of the film looks ahead to
the similarly inflected structure of Ivan's Childhood , which opens and closes
with closely related oneiric sequences and abounds in mirrored images and
movements. But this also suggests that the scope of Tarkovsky's crystal-
image, even in this early work, extends beyond the isolated shot or individual
sequence. The progression through the different modes of exchange and then,
in this final scene, their apparent synthesis into the overarching structure of
the film reveals the work itself as a kind of polygonal configuration whose
different facets may alternately reflect, clarify, or obscure elements at the
point of their emergence or well after they have fallen into the past. The in-
stances examined above function as integrated components of a larger crys-
talline structure built on this indiscernibility, coexistent durations or simulta-
neous "peaks of the present," as well as the reflections of the past we see in
the final sequence. Such a reading would be, essentially, in keeping with a
largely implicit aspect of Deleuze's argument. Ronald Bogue explains: "as
one considers Deleuze's examples, it becomes evident that his object in de-
veloping this triad of actual/virtual, limpid/opaque and seed/milieu is not so
much to describe individual shots and sequences as to treat entire films as
crystals" (124). He does this with Fellini's And the Ship Sails On (1983) and,
to a lesser extent, Herzog's Heart of Glass (1976).
This also returns us to one of the problems of the Deleuze/Tarkovsky rela-
tionship mentioned earlier. For Deleuze, it is not simply individual scenes or
even films that reveal a particular crystalline state. It is in the filmmaker's en-
tire body of work that the idiosyncratic orientation to time fully emerges, and
the philosopher devotes a considerable amount of space to descriptions of the
perfect crystals of Ophiils, the flawed crystal of Renoir, the seed crystals of
Fellini, and the decomposing crystals of Visconti. In his comparatively terse
consideration of Tarkovsky's films Deleuze identifies an attempt to reach the
most fundamental layers of reality, "continued from one film to the next," but
apparently stagnated, at least in Mirror , in a frozen seed as the crystal of time
inevitably "turns in on itself, like a homing device that searches an opaque en-
vironment: what is Russia, what is Russia...?" (1989, 75). The filmmaker is
inevitably handicapped by his monolithic subject and the fluid exploration of
time is forever doomed to opacity by the inscrutability of Russia and the rain-
soaked images. As with his other films of the 1970s, the "crystallizable form
of the universe" is simply unable to emerge from the oversaturated landscape:
" Solaris does not open up this optimism, and Stalker returns the environment
to the opacity of an indeterminate zone, and the seed to the morbidity of
something aborting, a closed door" (75). For all of the respect and enthusiasm
shown Tarkovsky's theories, the overall impression from the films them-
selves, though Deleuze gives no specific examples, seems uncompromisingly

dark and oppressive. Undoubtedly, this bleak assessment is one with which
many of Tarkovsky's stronger critics could agree and, depending on the indi-
vidual film, is difficult to completely condemn. But it also seems reductive to
confine the filmmaker's focus simply to Russia or suggest that the obsession
with the fluid nature of time and correspondingly saturated landscapes neces-
sarily limits his vision. Žižek, for instance, finds that it is precisely through
his waterlogged environments that Tarkovsky distinguishes himself from
being "just another Russian religious obscurantist," and the materiality
Deleuze finds so oppressive becomes itself a kind of spiritual medium:
in our standard ideological tradition, the approach to spirit is perceived as elevation, as getting
rid of the burden of weight, of the gravitating force which binds us to earth, as cutting links with
material inertia and starting to "float freely"; in contrast to this, in Tarkovsky's universe, we
enter the spiritual dimension only via intense direct physical contact with the humid heaviness
of earth (or still water). (249)
Similarly, in Anna Powell's argument for Stalker against the apparent nega-
tivity of Deleuze's assessment it is specifically the liquid, saturated quality of
the crystal, which "escapes opacity to become translucent in a potent cine-
matic expression of spiritual insight" (156).
Despite some rather extraordinary innovations, this may be a point that
Steamroller and Violin never fully reaches, and it is difficult to isolate here the
more overtly spiritual characteristics of Tarkovsky's later films. Nevertheless,
it is precisely an escape from opacity and crystallizations of time we find
throughout this short film and, particularly here in the final moments, we find
moves that do take on a decidedly numinous tone in the subsequent works. As
many of the studies which have considered it are quick to point out, Steam-
roller and Violin is missing some hallmarks of the director's mature aesthetic
and certain aspects often make it difficult to forget that this is a student pro-
duction. Problems, some of which would be only slightly ameliorated in the
later works, are not difficult to find. The acting- even that of the adults- is
sometimes uncomfortably wooden, and the unmistakably chauvinistic im-
pression conveyed through the fleetingly thin female characters quickly be-
comes embarrassing. On a more technical note, camera placement in certain
scenes, such as those in the stairwells or overlooking the Moscow streets, is
unapologetically similar to that of Kalatozov's Cranes are Flying , and at one
point, in an initial shot at the shop window, a member of the crew is momen-
tarily visible in one of the mirrors. Whatever the flaws, however, the short
work is far from derivative or ill-conceived. Completed in 1960, Steamroller
and Violin actually predates or is immediately contemporary with most of the
western European films Deleuze uses to flesh out his descriptions of the crys-
tal-image. It anticipates with remarkable accuracy not only much of what was
to be later consolidated by Deleuze under the description of the time-image,
but crucial elements of Tarkovsky's own theory and practice. Though in cer-
tain respects the film remains somewhat immature, the primary building
blocks that have come to define his cinema, such as the innovative manipula-
tion of subjectivity and its connection with a radically different, transcenden-
tal approach to cinematic temporality and the medium's ability to convey an
impression of time's non-chronological flux, have already begun to take a de-
cisive shape.
REFERENCES
Bird, Robert. Andrei Tarkovsky : Elements of Cinema. London, England: Reaktion, 2008.
Bergson, Henri. Mind Energy: Lectures and Essays. Trans. H. Wildon Carr. Westpo
Greenwood Press, 1975.
1991.
Bogue, Ronald. Deleuze on Cinema. New York: Routledge,
Boldyrev, N. Zhertvoprinoshenie Andreia Tarkovskogo. Mo
Colman, Felicity. Deleuze and Cinema: The Film Concepts.
Deleuze, Gilles. Cinema 1: The Movement-Image. Trans.
Minneapolis: U of Minnesota P, 1986.
nesota P, 1989.
1991.
Filimonov, Viktor. Andrei Tarkovskii: Sny i iav' o dome

Gordon, Aleksandr. Ne utolivshii zhazhdy: ob Andree Ta
Green, Peter. Andrei Tarkovsky: The Winding Quest. Lo
Johnson, Vida, and Graham Petrie. The Films of Andrei T
ton: Indiana UP, 1994.
McSweeney, Terence. "Sculpting the Time Image: An Exp
from a Deleuzian Perspective." Through the Mirror: R
Tarkovsky. Ed. G. Jónsson and T. Ottarsson. Newcastle
2006. 79-99.
Pasolini, Pier Paolo. Heretical Empiricism. Trans. Ben Lawton and Louise K. Barnett. Bloom-
ington: Indiana UP, 1988.
Powell, Anna. Deleuze , Altered States and Film. Edinburgh: Edinburgh UP, 2007.
Redwood, Thomas. Andrei Tarkovsky's Poetics of Cinema. Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge
Scholars P, 2010.
Renfrew, Alastair. "Before Learning to Speak: Genre in Tarkovsky's Earlier Features." In
Tarkovsky. Ed. Nathan Dunne. London: Black Dog, 2008. 96-121.
Riley, Mark. "Disorientation, Duration and Tarkovsky." In Deleuze and the Schizoanalysis of
Cinema. Ed. Ian Buchanan and PatMacCormack. London: Continuum, 2008. 52-62.
Rodowick, D. N. Gilles Deleuze's Time Machine. Durham, NC: Duke UP, 1997.
Skakov, Nanman. The Cinema of Tarkovsky: Labyrinths of Space and Time. London: I. B. Tau-
ris, 2012.
Tarkovskii, Andrei. "Zapechatlennnoe vremia." Iskusstvo kino , 1967, no. 4: 69-79.
Texas P. 1986.
Turovskaya, Maya. Tarkovsky: Cinema as Poetry. Trans. Natasha Ward. London: Faber &
Faber, 1989.
Voloshinov, V. N. Marxism and the Philosophy of Language. Trans. Ladislav Matejka and I. R.
Titunik. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1986.
Woll, Josephine. Real Images: Soviet Cinema and the Thaw. London: I. B. Tauris. 2000.
Žižek, Slavoj. "The Thing From Inner Space." In Sexuation. Ed. Renata Saleci. Durham /Lon-
don: Duke UP, 2000.
Реферат
Роберт Ифрд
Делез и Тарковский: Образ-кристалл времени в фильме Каток и скрипка
Несмотря на статус "дипломного фильма", Каток и скрипка занимает важное

место в работе Андрея Тарковского. Критики не всегда об этом упоминают, но
этот короткий ранний фильм представляет собой вызов обычному кинематогра-
фическому стилю; камера движется удивительно гладко между субъективным и
объективными точками восприятия; пространственная связь очень тонка и часто
разорвана, и возникает ощущение, что различные уровни реальности и времени
сосуществуют в одном пространстве, иногда накладываясь друг на друга. Теория
Жиля Делеза о способности кино создавать образ времени как продуктивной
силы, вне эмпирической смены моментов и подчинения движению, обеспечивает
стержневой, но не всегда верно понимаемый взгляд на кинематограф Тарковск
ого. Делез сам хорошо знал теории Тарковского, использовал идеи киноре-
жиссера и упомянутое им несколько раз в тексте Кино 2: Образ-время для
определения термина и объяснения образа времени. Хотя многие концепции,
объясненные в Кино 2, проливают свет на то, что зрители воспринимают как
уникальное и часто проблематичное во всех работах Тарковского, нигде теория
Делеза не приближается к практике Тарковского так близко, как в фильме Каток
и скрипка , особенно теория образа-кристалла. В этой статье фильм рассма-
тривается как уникальная вариация концепции Делеза (сформулированная
большинством примеров, процитированных в Кино 2), так же как и определение
самого режиссера. Этот короткий фильм представляет отличную иллюстрацию
образа-кристалла. Но наиболее важно то, что эта концепция помогает обна-
ружить критические аспекты фильма Каток и скрипка , которые проходили
незамеченными более полувека с момента его создания.

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American Association of Teachers of Slavic and East European Languages

DELEUZE ON TARKOVSKY: THE CRYSTAL-IMAGE OF TIME IN "STEAMROLLER AND

American Association of Teachers of Slavic and East European Languages is collaborating

Robert Efird, Virginia Tech

Though it is frequently obscured by the shadows of his later works, An

SEEJ , Vol. 58, No. 2 (2014): p. 237-p. 254 237

falls under the loose rubric of "time-image films," in-depth examinations of

These "relationships of time," expressions of time as creative difference

emplary illustration of the concept in general and, with the integration of

appears to be a qualitatively subjective presentation of his gaze. Looking

prising other intangible "[mļemories, dreams, even worlds" (1989, 81). In

larities within the present, a "coexistence of distinct durations, or levels of

Sasha finishes playing. Now it is a grainy, softened image of the steamroller

selves, though Deleuze gives no specific examples, seems uncompromisingly

Filimonov, Viktor. Andrei Tarkovskii: Sny i iav' o dome

Несмотря на статус "дипломного фильма", Каток и скрипка занимает важное

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