Mirror

Over the summer of 2024, I had the chance to revisit the kindergarten I attended in Taiwan. It was the first time I had truly returned since I left nearly fifteen years ago. And it was, quite literally, everything I remembered. The little kids taking summer classes still wore the same red and white uniforms I had worn back then. The wheat fields, the trees, the nearly dried-up creek, the bell tower, the class buildings -- they were all the same. As I watched those kids in the same uniforms run past me, full of energy, jumping and laughing, I suddenly began to cry. I realized that I was once like them: young, passionate, energetic, but most of all, innocent. And in that moment, I understood the true power of memory. Nostalgia may tint the past in hues of emotion, but this was different. It felt like I had stepped into a distant memory I never thought I’d touch again. That moment reminded me of Tarkovsky’s masterpiece, the Mirror, a film consumed with memory, death, nostalgia, and the elusive search for happiness. For a fleeting instant, I felt like I was the protagonist of my own Mirror. But unlike Tarkovsky’s character, I had somehow been allowed to re-enter the past, to see and feel the very textures I had long remembered. No film has helped me understand memory and regret like the Mirror. It’s painful to think about the past, to know you can’t change it, and to wish you could go back and truly savor those moments again. One of the questions the Mirror seems to pose to its viewers is: would you live your life the same way if you could go back, knowing everything that would happen -- every heartbreak and regret? It’s a deceptively difficult question. On this night, the night before my first day of university, I decided to revisit my favorite movie. It helped me reflect and feel grateful. Once, I was just a child in that kindergarten in Taiwan. Somehow, I was given the opportunity to move to the United States, to receive an education as a citizen, and now I attend one of the best universities in the country. My kindergarten classmates never had close to having that same chance. I wonder, if my younger self knew where I would end up fifteen years later, would he choose the same life? Tarkovsky’s films often end on a slightly hopeful note, but Mirror remains deeply ambiguous on this point. The protagonist is trapped in his regrets. He longs to return to innocence, to the past, but knows he cannot. Does the film end with him achieving that return? Would he choose the same life again, knowing its outcome? Mirror continues to challenge and complicate me, but in its portrayal of memory and the human experience, it reflects my own life in a way no other film has. For that reason, it remains, in my eyes, the greatest film of all time. ** 101 (unchanged from previous review)** Story & Pacing: 20/20 Characters & Acting: 20/20 Themes: 50/50 Cinematography & Editing: 5/5 Soundtrack & Sound: 5/5 Memorability: 1/1