The second disk has three interviews with Tarkovsky collaborators: composer Eduard Artemyev, cinematographer Aleksandr Knyazhinsky, and set decorator Rashit Safiullin. Then there is a five-minute excerpt from The Steamroller And The Violin (Katok I Skyrpka), Tarkovsky’s 1960 student film, and a five-minute film on Tarkovsky’s home, Memory, directed by Serghei Minenok. There is also a photo album of production images and behind-the-scenes stills, as well as cast and crew filmographies.

Recently I watched Guy Maddin’s The Saddest Music In The World, and while it used some of the same visual techniques as Stalker (sepia, black and white, color mixtures), it was narratively and conceptually antithetical - from its MTV-like editing style (vs. Stalker’s pacing, which has to be taken on its own merits), to the caricaturizing of the characters, to its casual dismissal of real humanity. Stalker has many virtues, and illustrates the old concept that a great artist, even when not at his greatest, is still far greater than a non-great at his best.

Of course, there are the usual misreadings by critics, who praise the very things that do not work, like the ending, or impose their own interpretations of Stalker as a Christ-like figure. Being a religious character doesn't make him a stand-in for a religious figure, especially when the film is surprisingly lacking in religious mumbo-jumbo (humanist philosophy and religion are not analogues), and the three lead characters are in no way merely symbols - of Christian Wise Men, the Trinity, nor any tripartite invocation.

Do they bear some symbolic interpretation? Of course, since they are known only by their professions. But, each is a unique character, not a caricature. Thus Stalker achieves a rare intimacy, one absent from most films, Hollywood or foreign, and if it is not a great film, it is certainly an excellent one, and one of the most unique visions committed to screen. See for yourself how even failure can fail better than most.