Tarkovsky's film, based roughly on the brothers Strugatsky's novel Roadside Picnic, is not the success his more-famous Solaris is. Where the book mixed reality with elements of myth, Stalker skips the reality and goes straight for myth. The result lacks the ability to convince. The bizarre dangers of the Zone that give Roadside Picnic its color appear here only by the most indirect reference. The Stalker's terror, and his apparent fetishism over a handful of nuts and bolts, are hard to take seriously. The film is partly redeemed by stolid acting (yes, I meant stolid) and beautiful, haunting cinematography.
In a way, this film is Solaris turned inside-out: not the psyche as seen by the universe, but the universe as seen by the psyche.
In a way, this film is Solaris turned inside-out: not the psyche as seen by the universe, but the universe as seen by the psyche.