Andrei Tarkovsky’s Stalker is one of cinema’s great journeys—an enigmatic, philosophical trip through a post-apocalyptic landscape where meaning feels just out of reach. This new Criterion Blu-ray, sourced from a fresh 2K restoration by Mosfilm from the original camera negatives, finally gives the film the presentation it deserves in North America.
For years, the best we had was the old RusCiCo DVD—fuzzy, artifact-ridden, and visually distorted, with ghosting and frame jitter that made even still shots feel unstable. It split the film across two discs for no good reason and looked worse than memory suggests. Kino’s later DVD wasn’t much better, and in many ways, this new Blu-ray had nowhere to go but up. Thankfully, it exceeds expectations.
The upgrade in image quality is immediately apparent. Detail is drastically improved—textures, faces, and even the landscapes feel newly alive. Scenes that were once murky, like the bar in the opening or the grassy fields of the Zone, now reveal subtle depth and clarity. Close-ups, in particular, show weathered faces with new emotional weight, and the tactile details of the environment—mud, water, rust, decay—are far more vivid. The grain is natural, black levels are deep, and contrast is handled beautifully without crushing detail in the darker scenes.
The film’s muted palette doesn’t scream color, but what’s there is handled with care. Greens in the Zone now glow with a quiet, eerie richness. Interestingly, the black-and-white sequences now have a much stronger sepia tone than earlier versions, which might surprise viewers used to the cooler look of past transfers. It seems intentional, and once adjusted to it, the tone feels in line with Tarkovsky’s aesthetic.
There are no visible digital artifacts to speak of. This is, quite simply, the best the film has ever looked, and the clarity adds a new layer of immersion. It almost feels like watching Stalker for the first time.
Criterion ditches the old 5.1 remix and sticks with the original mono track, presented in lossless PCM. It’s a smart move. The 5.1 track from the RusCiCo disc was a mess—awkwardly mixed and riddled with missing effects. The mono here sounds clean, with solid range and depth. Dialogue is clear, and the film’s hypnotic soundscape—particularly the trolley sequence—comes through beautifully. It may be mono, but it’s far more faithful and engaging.
Supplements are where the disc falters a bit. Criterion mostly reuses extras from previous editions. The strongest of these is an interview with production designer Rashit Safiullin, who offers a fascinating look into the film’s troubled first shoot and the destroyed original footage. He reflects on Tarkovsky’s reaction to the loss and how it shaped the film’s final form, adding rare insight into a notoriously opaque production. His comments about the experimental Kodak stock and the struggles of building decayed sets on a tight budget are especially compelling.
Other legacy extras include interviews with cinematographer Alexander Knyazhinsky and composer Eduard Artemyev. Knyazhinsky’s short interview is reflective but somber—he was very ill when it was filmed—and offers scattered memories of the shoot, including some charming details about the film’s dog. Artemyev’s longer interview dives into Tarkovsky’s spiritual leanings and how they influenced the score. He also discusses the instruments used and the specific sonic textures they were after, which adds valuable context.
Criterion’s only new on-disc feature is an interview with writer Geoff Dyer, author of Zona. His approach is more personal than scholarly, sharing how he initially struggled with the film but came to love it over time. He touches on Tarkovsky’s themes, the rhythm of the film, and the tension it builds without delivering typical narrative payoffs. It’s an accessible entry point for newcomers, but a more thorough visual essay or commentary would have been welcome.
The included booklet offers a thoughtful essay by Mark Le Fanu, who draws from Tarkovsky’s diaries to shed light on the director’s mindset during production. It’s a nice addition, but again, it feels like Criterion missed an opportunity to go deeper—especially for a film so dense with meaning and interpretation.
Despite the relatively light supplements, the strength of the restoration makes this release essential. The film looks and sounds extraordinary, completely outpacing all previous versions. For longtime fans or newcomers alike, this Blu-ray is a transformative viewing experience.
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