Andrei Tarkovsky’s debut feature has become a mainstay of the classic film canon since its release in 1962, and while for this viewer it lacks some of the epic notions of time and storytelling that Tarkovsky would later go onto master, it remains a firm favourite.

I’m working on a 4’000 word essay on Andrei Rublev at the moment, so here are a few brief thoughts on Ivan’s Childhood.

Ivan’s Childhood opens with a dream sequence, an act which serves to confuse a viewer familiar with the work of Tarkovsky. The scenes soft focus photography, combined with an overbearing orchestral score are abruptly interrupted by a multiple angle, off-kilter viewpoint far more in keeping with the filmmakers style. As an introduction (both personal and third-party) to the work of Andrei Tarkovsky its perhaps the perfect scene. The soft focus scenes of afore are contrasted with texture laden shots of tree bark and thick, murky waters, and the score is replaced by an overt bout of “bitty”, harsh noise.

There is a remarkable moment early on, in which a dream sequence (of which there are several) that sees the action transfered from the view above a water well into the “real” world locale of a harsh landscape. As Ivan’s mother is murdered we see his descent intowards the well, which in turn becomes the swamp he is inhabiting in the scene in the present. Its masterful work. As is the nature of which Ivan seems to switch between child and man. During the opening moments of the non-dream/flashback sequences Ivan is a harsh and well versed man-child, overtly aware of when he is being patronised, and more than happy to answer back to those insults, yet when he meets up with Kholin, his surrogate father of sorts, he reverts back to childhood. That Nikolai Burlyayev, an actor only 14 years old at the time of the films production, can handle the transitions so well is of great wonder.

Tricks with sound, especially those that highlight the  ironic comparisons between the situation of war are common throughout the film. There is a moment in in which Masha, a wartime nurse, is wandering around in a lovelorn daze,  as a swirling lament of love calling soundtracks her imagination, before the idyllic sounds are devastated by the noise of an army van trapped in the mud. Again, this scene is punctuated by the sound of gunfire, further recalling the opening sequence.

Ivan’s Childhood is beautifully shot. Be it in the aforementioned close up shots of texture and nature, or the swirling camerawork that seperates dreams from reality, the camerawork is some of the most effective ever captured, in terms of relaying the feelings of the onscreen emotion with that of the viewer.

While it may be incredibly uncouth, I couldn’t help but make comparisons with some of the more familiar films about childhood, with The 400 Blows being the most blatant (although Ivan reminds heavily of the mischievous Francois from Maurice Petit’s L’Enfance-Nue). Granted Ivan is a much more adult-character, but such connections to other films about youth felt impossible.