Tarkovsky opens Mirror in a very Chekhovian way with a lonely woman waiting for her husband to return to a country house when another man turns off the road and comes to flirt with her. He is a country doctor and playfully jests with her as one would imagine Astrov with Jelena in Uncle Vanya, but she's having none of it, or so it would seem. The husband never returns, and the focus of the film switches to her son recounting his youth through the many reflections of a mirror. We don't find out much about the son, or even see him. He floats in a state of semi-consciousness brought on by some illness or fatigue, drifting back and forth in time. The event cuts , as Ryland Walker Knight describes them are distilled images held in a form of suspended animation in the narrator's mind. But, it is not a cold abstract film. It is a very emotional and moving film that speaks volumes for the state many Russians found themselves after WWII, reflecting back on th...