Chantal Kellerd

Stanislaw Lem’s 1961 novel Solaris and Andrei Tarkovsky’s 1972 film adaptation are both philosophical works of science fiction that explore the significance of humanity. Although their plots differ in several ways, they maintain the same premise. Both take place on a space station above the fictional planet Solaris, whose sole inhabitant is a vast, gel-like, possibly sentient ocean with which scientists have been attempting to establish contact for over a century. Psychologist Kris Kelvin travels to Solaris to investigate a series of strange reports originating from the station. Upon arriving to Solaris, he finds that the ocean has penetrated his subconscious and has inexplicably produced a simulacrum of his deceased wife, which sends him on an introspective journey into the deepest parts of his consciousness. While the novel focuses on the futility of human efforts to understand and interact with Solaris’s ocean, the film takes a more symbolic approach by using the plot as an instrument to explore the human condition. Hence, although Stanislaw Lem’s 1961 novel Solaris and Andrei Tarkovsky’s 1972 film adaptation follow the same principal storyline, they differ in theme. Lem’s novel comments on the insignificance of humanity as a reference point for understanding the universe, while Tarkovsky’s film elevates the significance of humanity by reflecting on the importance of human emotions and values.

Lem’s novel focuses on the limits of human knowledge and intellect. Lem uses the library to represent the failure of humans to comprehend “concepts and discoveries that slip through the net woven out of anthropomorphic and Earth-bound science, philosophy, and culture” (Swirski 175). The library is where Kelvin reads and reflects on detailed chronicles of investigations of Solaris, exhaustive attempts to categorize the ocean’s behavior, and contradictory theories and hypotheses regarding the ocean’s consciousness (and lack thereof), all of which have led nowhere in humans’ quest for contact. The library is a compilation of intellectual baggage representing the futility of a century of efforts to understand Solaris. In this way, the library reflects Lem’s “critique of anthropocentric thinking, focusing on the limitations of human knowledge and human intellect,” which implies that humanity has little significance in “a universe that is probably organized along principles that we can never even begin to understand” (Deltcheva & Vaslov 533).

While in the novel the library is a comment on the limits of human knowledge and intellect, in the film it is an encapsulation of humanity. Unlike the rest of the station, which is cold and futuristic in design, the library has “the atmosphere of an old- fashioned study” (Deltcheva & Vaslov 537). It contains numerous markers of human civilization, such as chandeliers, stained glass, paintings, ornate furniture, and references to philosophers and composers. Tarkovsky’s humanist approach to the film is most apparent in Snaut’s birthday scene, which takes place in the library. Sartorius, Snaut, and Kelvin have various arguments about the human condition, referencing several philosophical and existential themes that are absent in Lem’s novel. In perhaps the most pivotal point of the film, Sartorius tells Harey that she is not human, to which she responds emotionally, “I am becoming a human being. I can feel just as deeply as you…I love [Kelvin]” (Tarkovsky 2:03:59). Afterwards, we see her observe Brueghel’s The Hunters in the Snow, as if apprehending the experience of being a human on Earth. In this way, the painting is a mirror for her developing humanity. Harey’s progression into humanity, stimulated by her love for Kelvin, reflects the narrative of Tarkovsky’s film as “prompted by the firm belief that love and human emotion have a primary meaning in the universe” (Deltcheva & Vaslov 533).

Tarkovsky’s humanist approach to the film is not entirely without support from the novel. During the birthday scene in the library, Snaut states, “We don’t need other worlds. We need mirrors,” a line taken from the novel (Tarkovsky 1:59:36). This quote implies that introspection is more important than exploration, for humans do not understand themselves, let alone the universe. Humans are spilling their “chaos out into the universe,” when instead they should focus on resolving their own inner turmoil (Tighe 765). For Kelvin, this means that grappling with the grief and guilt associated with the death of Harey takes precedent over establishing contact with Solaris, which elevates the importance of human emotion and consciousness in the novel. However, the introspective experience Kelvin undergoes in the novel functions to highlight the incomprehensible nature of contact from the ocean as such that cannot be measured or understood by Earth-bound science—a form of contact that probes the mind rather than scientific instruments—and does not reflect on the human condition in the way that the film does. Tarkovsky takes the humanist trace present in Lem’s novel and elevates it to the status of theme in his film.

Similarly, the pervasive themes in Lem’s novel regarding the limits of human knowledge and intellect are not completely absent in Tarkovsky’s film adaptation. In the beginning of the film, Kelvin watches a video of Burton recounting his experience on Solaris to a panel of scientists, a scene that alludes to the contradictory speculations, hypotheses, and beliefs about Solaris that are central to the novel’s theme. However, much to Lem’s disappointment, this is the only direct reference Tarkovsky makes to what Lem considered to be the main idea behind his work (Swirski 176). From that point on, Tarkovsky’s film is focused mainly on the human condition. Therefore, while the novel sets the stage for the film’s humanist approach, the film plays down the novel’s main theme.

The contrast in setting between Lem’s Solaris and Tarkovsky’s adaptation further emphasizes the difference in theme between the novel and film. Lem’s novel takes place almost entirely on Solaris. The setting consists primarily of “alienscapes, lit up by Solaris’s two suns and by impeccable science hardware,” which places the characters in an isolated, cold, inorganic setting removed from Earth and from familiarity, emphasizing the incomprehensibility of the ocean by accentuating its alienness (Swirski 175). This, in combination with the vastness of the ocean and its indifference to human life, suggests the insignificance of humanity as a reference point for understanding the universe. It is important to note that while the novel takes place on an alien planet, the station is not a far extrapolation from reality. This was intentional on Lem’s part; he wanted to create a world that, while set in the future, is still recognizable to viewers in order to function as a commentary on real-world issues, namely, “the tragedy of man’s imperfect machinery for gaining knowledge” (Tighe 767).

While the novel’s setting is restricted to Solaris, the film takes place both on Earth and on Solaris. The first forty minutes are dedicated to portraying Kelvin’s childhood home in the countryside and its accompanying natural imagery. The trees, horses, water (suggestive of the Solaris ocean), children, and rustic home all function to create an organic environment saturated with nostalgia. This natural setting stands in stark contrast to the station, which is cold, sterile, and metallic. By including these distinct settings, Tarkovsky introduces a juxtaposition that does not exist in the novel: that between “organic and inorganic, humanistic and anti-humanistic” (Hyman 55). Interwoven throughout the film are clips of Kelvin’s childhood in the countryside, which contributes to the nostalgia associated with Earth prevalent throughout the film. We see one of these clips as a natural continuation of the scene during which Harey becomes immersed in Brueghel’s The Hunters in the Snow and apprehends her humanity, suggesting that Kelvin’s childhood is reminiscent of humanity. In this way, Tarkovsky uses the Earth scenes of Kelvin’s childhood and his childhood home to reflect on the value of nostalgia and its role in the human experience.

Like the novel, the film’s setting is not far removed from reality, even on the station. Tarkovsky omits the spectacular visual displays that are traditionally present in the science fiction film genre and “rejects the outwardly sensational aspect of his story,” intentionally avoiding any exhibition of high technology or special effects (Deltcheva & Vaslov 536). By constructing the plot within parameters of a world that is recognizable to viewers, Tarkovsky, like Lem, uses the film as a tool to comment on relevant issues.

One of the most notable differences between Lem’s Solaris and Tarkovsky’s film adaptation lies in their respective endings. In one of the final scenes of Lem’s novel, Kelvin decides to fly a helicopter over the ocean in order to experience the ocean firsthand. He lands on a beach and puts his hand in the ocean. It molds to his hand yet never touches it, representing the permanent gap between Solaris and human comprehension. We also see Kelvin anthropomorphize the ocean during this scene: “…there was something one was tempted to call a cautious yet not timid naivety, as it strove frantically and rapidly to know, to take in, an unexpectedly encountered new shape” (Lem 177). That Kelvin still tries to attribute human characteristics to the ocean, despite the futility of a century of efforts to do so, demonstrates that “human cognition is inherently anthropomorphic” and incapable of understanding that which exists beyond its own frame of reference (Enns 34). The power, vastness, and mystery of the ocean, along with its indifference to Kelvin’s presence, makes Kelvin aware of the banality of human existence:

To be a clock, on the other hand, measuring the passage of time, one that is smashed and rebuilt over and again, one in whose mechanism despair and love are set in motion by the watchmaker along with the first movements of the cogs; to know one is a repeater of suffering felt ever more deeply as it becomes increasingly comical through multiple repetitions? To replay human existence— fine, but to replay it in the way a drunk replays a corny tune, pushing coins over and over into the jukebox? (Lem 178)

On Solaris, Kelvin repeats his past mistake of taking Harey for granted and pays the price by losing her again. However, this is meaningless to the ocean, which is indifferent to the troubles of human existence. This is reflective of the insignificance of humanity in the grand scheme of the universe.

The novel ends with Kelvin back on the station waiting for Harey’s return, as he abides “in the unshaken belief that the time of cruel wonders [is] not over” (Lem 178). This further emphasizes how little Kelvin understands about Solaris and its ocean- induced simulacra. Kelvin’s hope for Harey’s resurrection and reference to miracles are a metaphor for religious faith, which adds elements of mysticism and unknowability to the plot. This emphasizes the alienness of Solaris by associating it with otherworldly concepts in religion. In this way, the ending of the novel confirms Solaris’s ultimate incomprehensibility to humankind.

While the final scenes of Lem’s novel emphasize the limits of human comprehension in understanding the universe, the ending of Tarkovsky’s film is indicative of Kelvin’s internal transformation. It is apparent in the beginning of the film that Kelvin and his father have a distant relationship due to conflicting values. Kelvin’s father “inhabits an anachronistic world, of protest and nostalgia for the past” and is associated with the earthly, “humanistic” setting of Kelvin’s childhood home (Hyman 55). Meanwhile, Kelvin is initially portrayed as unemotional and detached, willing to sacrifice morality in the name of science. This is conveyed in the scene when, before leaving for Solaris, Kelvin has a discussion with Burton about the possibility of bombarding the ocean with heavy radiation, an idea that Burton rejects on the basis of morality. Kelvin states that humans render science moral or immoral, implying that he views science as amoral. Shortly after this conversation, his father says to him, “Earth has adapted to men like you, but at a heavy price” (Tarkovsky 31:02). This is significant because Tarkovsky positions Kelvin’s father simultaneously in a position of humanity and of morality compared to Kelvin, thereby implying that humanity and morality are correlated and establishing Kelvin’s lack thereof.

With this perspective, Kelvin’s return home at the end of the film symbolizes a return to humanity and human values. When Kelvin falls to his knees in front of his father and embraces him, he embraces the human values that his father represents. That this occurs after facing his deepest guilt and falling in love on Solaris implies that “Solaris offers a kind of purgation” that allows him to progress in his humanity (Hyman 55). In this sense, Tarkovsky takes Solaris out of its scientific context in the novel and uses it to reflect on the importance of human emotions and values. In the final shot of the film, the camera pans out, and we find that Kelvin is still on Solaris, which implies that his father and childhood home are mental representations rather than reality. This suggests that Kelvin has chosen to live within his mental construction of reality, rather than reality itself. Tarkovsky hints that the two are in fact the same; reality is defined by the subjective human experience of it. Therefore, while Lem’s ending focuses on the limits of humanity in understanding reality, Tarkovsky’s ending highlights humanity’s role in defining it.

Although Lem’s 1961 novel Solaris and Tarkovsky’s 1972 film adaptation maintain the same premise, they convey different messages. Lem’s novel is a critique on the limits of humanity, arguing that science is an imperfect tool for obtaining knowledge insofar that it is confined by human comprehension. Meanwhile, Tarkovsky’s film reflects on the significance of humanity by elevating the importance of human emotions and values such as nostalgia, love, guilt, and morality. While Lem uses the library to represent the intellectual baggage resulting from the futility of a century of efforts to understand Solaris, Tarkovsky’s library is an encapsulation of human life where he explores the importance of love in defining humanity. The novel’s entirely alien setting removes the characters from familiarity and emphasizes their insignificance in the grand scheme of the universe, while the film’s incorporation of earthly scenes reflects on the role of nostalgia in the human experience. The novel’s and film’s distinct endings further differentiate their themes. While Lem’s ending alludes to the banality of human existence, as well as the incomprehensibility of the ocean, Tarkovsky’s ending reflects the crucial role humans play in defining reality through their subjective, emotional experiences. Although Lem’s Solaris and Tarkovsky’s film adaptation differ in theme, they both demonstrate the value of science fiction as a speculative genre that has the power to reflect relevant societal issues in the mirror of the future.

Works Cited

Deltcheva, Roumiana, and Eduard Vlasov. “Back to the House II: On the Chronotopic and Ideological Reinterpretation of Lem’s Solaris in Tarkovsky’s Film.” The Russian Review, vol. 56, no. 4, [Wiley, Editors and Board of Trustees of the Russian Review], 1997, pp. 532–49, https://doi.org/10.2307/131564.

Enns, Anthony. “Mediality and Mourning in Stanislaw Lem’s ‘Solaris’ and ‘His Master’s Voice.’” Science Fiction Studies, vol. 29, no. 1, SF-TH Inc, 2002, pp. 34–52, http://www.jstor.org/stable/4241043.

Hyman, Timothy. Film Quarterly, vol. 29, no. 3, University of California Press, 1976, pp. 54–58, https://doi.org/10.2307/1211715.

Lem, Stanisław. Solaris. Wydawnictwo Literackie, 2017.

Swirski, Peter. “Solaris! Solaris. Solaris?” The Art and Science of Stanislaw Lem, edited by Peter Swirski, McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2006, pp. 172–80, http://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt7zm1v.13.

Tarkovsky, Andrei, director. Solaris. Mosfilm, 1972,

Tighe, Carl. “Stanisław Lem: Socio-Political Sci-Fi.” The Modern Language Review, vol. 94, no. 3, Modern Humanities Research Association, 1999, pp. 758–74, https://doi.org/10.2307/3737000.

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