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As a direct response to Stanley Kubrick's clean, antiseptic vision in '2001,' Andrei Tarkovsky's 'Solaris' presents a future that is dirty, warm, and in disrepair. This aesthetic choice argues that science fiction can and should retain its humanity, infusing futuristic settings with familiar artifacts, clutter, and a sense of history.
The novel portrays a century of scientific effort failing to understand a living ocean. This failure highlights how human concepts like "purpose" are inadequate and perhaps meaningless when applied to a consciousness that evolved under entirely different conditions.
The film's ending is deliberately ambiguous. The protagonist's choice to remain in a replica of his home created by the alien ocean can be read as a tragic failure—an ultimate retreat into his own mind. Conversely, it can be seen as an optimistic first step in true human-alien communication, a profound connection achieved on the alien's terms.
A key philosophical difference between Andrei Tarkovsky and Stanley Kubrick lies in their view of humanity. Tarkovsky's films suggest human beings are redeemable and can achieve transcendence on their own. Kubrick's work, particularly '2001', is more cynical, implying that humanity requires intervention from a higher, external force to evolve.
The difficulties in studying the ocean—its unpredictability, its mirroring of observers' inner states, and its resistance to simple explanation—directly parallel the challenges of psychology and consciousness studies. The psychologist protagonist underscores this connection.
The film posits that humanity's drive for space exploration is not a quest for knowledge but an escape from confronting our own nature. Tarkovsky suggests that Earth itself holds all the mystery, magic, and wonder we seek in the cosmos, but we are afraid to reckon with who we are.
Filmmaker Andrei Tarkovsky and author Stanisław Lem had conflicting visions for 'Solaris.' While Lem's novel focused on the unknowable alien and the limits of science, Tarkovsky used the sci-fi setting as a mere pretext to explore human guilt, loss, and conscience, effectively creating "Crime and Punishment on a space station."
The station's scientists study the ocean from a "safe," hermetically sealed distance, leading to stagnation. The protagonist only approaches a potential breakthrough when he breaks this barrier and physically makes contact, suggesting experience trumps detached analysis.
The novel suggests that when facing the truly unknown, the most useful scientific contribution is humble, meticulous observation and classification. Attempts to create overarching theories are portrayed as distorting and arrogant, whereas simply cataloging what is seen is the most honest approach.
The film posits that an artificial entity, like the character Hari, can have a more profound and innocent appreciation of art than humans. Unburdened by the world-weary cynicism and emotional damage that cripples the human characters, she engages with art with a purity and depth they can no longer access.
A central theme in the film is the Platonic idea of copies degrading with each iteration. This is shown through the protagonist's family home being a replica of his grandfather's, and the alien planet later creating a further flawed copy. This metaphor extends to memory, art, and human connection, which are presented as imperfect reflections of an ideal reality.