Revisiting Andrei Tarkovsky’s sci-fi classic Stalker this past weekend at the Gene Siskel Film Center, I was struck by Tarkovsky’s audacious anticlimax, which I now consider crucial to the film’s unique power. After more than two hours of following the three principal characters as they search for the mythical Room—which is believed to grant the innermost wish of whomever enters it—Tarkovsky declines to reveal whether the characters actually go inside the Room once they find it. This elision strengthens rather than weakens the film’s central theme of faith. Throughout Stalker, Tarkovsky raises the possibility that the Zone (which houses the Room) does not contain magical powers, as the title character insists. This forces viewers to question whether the characters’ quest is worthwhile or not—effectively making audiences undergo their own spiritual journey. By not showing whether the characters have their wishes granted (or even choose to ask for them), Tarkovsky makes viewers complete the story in their imaginations, their resolutions dependent on their own sense of faith.
Hui’s attention to small details also makes for some genuinely suspenseful sequences. When the characters transport propaganda leaflets, one worries about the fate of the papers—how the characters will carry them and transfer them into other hands without getting noticed. In one passage, Ip’s character sews a few leaflets into the hem of her shirt so she can carry them on a public water taxi. Hui presents several shots of the sewn hem, reminding viewers of how intimately she’s gotten involved with the Resistance and how fragile her protection is. It’s this passage—and not the romance between Lan and Communist fighter Kam-wing (Wallace Huo)—that forms the emotional heart of Our Time. It shows the complete transformation of a previously apolitical character into someone willing to risk her life for her country’s future.
