Solaris (1972) Ending Explained
tl;dr
The ending of Solaris (1972, directed by Andrei Tarkovsky) is a haunting, ambiguous conclusion that leaves viewers questioning reality, love, and human consciousness. Psychologist Kris Kelvin arrives at a space station orbiting the mysterious planet Solaris, which manifests physical embodiments of people's memories and regrets. Kelvin's deceased wife, Hari, reappears, but she is a manifestation of Solaris rather than a real person. In the finale, Kelvin seemingly returns to his childhood home, but the scene is surreal and possibly another illusion created by Solaris. The film ends with no clear resolution, emphasizing themes of guilt, redemption, and the limits of human understanding.
Detailed Explanation of the Ending
The final scenes of Solaris are deeply enigmatic and open to multiple interpretations. After Hari voluntarily ceases to exist (by drinking liquid oxygen), Kelvin remains on the space station, which begins to deteriorate. The film then cuts to a seemingly idyllic scene of Kelvin at his childhood home, where he reunites with his father. However, the camera slowly pulls back to reveal that the "home" is actually an island on Solaris. The rain inside the house and the unnatural stillness of the environment suggest that this is another illusion crafted by the planet. Kelvin kneels before his father in a gesture that could symbolize submission, forgiveness, or despair.
This ending raises profound questions about the nature of reality. Is Kelvin truly back on Earth, or is Solaris offering him a final, comforting illusion? The planet has already demonstrated its ability to probe human consciousness and materialize deep-seated emotions, so the "home" may be another manifestation of Kelvin's psyche. The rain inside the house-an impossibility in reality-hints at the fabricated nature of the scene. Tarkovsky deliberately avoids closure, leaving viewers to ponder whether Kelvin has achieved any form of redemption or is trapped in an endless cycle of Solaris's illusions.
Unresolved Questions
1. Is Kelvin truly back on Earth, or is he still on Solaris?
- He may have returned home physically, but the surreal elements (indoor rain, the island reveal) suggest it's an illusion.
- Solaris could be simulating a "perfect" reality to pacify Kelvin after his trauma.
2. What does Hari's final disappearance mean?
- Her self-destruction might symbolize Kelvin letting go of his guilt over her suicide.
- Alternatively, Solaris may have "released" him by removing her, implying the planet's motives are inscrutable.
3. Does Kelvin achieve redemption or remain trapped?
- His kneeling could signify acceptance and peace.
- Or it might show despair, as Solaris continues to manipulate him.
Themes and Symbolism
The ending reinforces the film's central themes of memory, love, and the unknowability of the universe. Solaris acts as a mirror, reflecting humanity's inability to confront its own emotions without distortion. Kelvin's journey is less about solving the planet's mysteries and more about facing his unresolved grief. The childhood home symbolizes a desire for innocence and simplicity, but its artificiality suggests that such purity is unattainable. Tarkovsky contrasts the cold, sterile space station with the lush, dreamlike "home," emphasizing the tension between scientific rationality and emotional need.
Personal Opinion
Solaris is a masterpiece of philosophical science fiction, and its ending is deliberately unsettling. Unlike conventional narratives, it refuses to provide easy answers, instead inviting introspection. The ambiguity is frustrating but purposeful-it mirrors Kelvin's own confusion and the limits of human comprehension. The film's slow pace and visual poetry make the ending linger in the mind long after viewing. While some may find it unsatisfying, I appreciate how Tarkovsky prioritizes emotional and intellectual resonance over plot resolution. The final shot of the island, slowly revealed to be part of Solaris, is a brilliant metaphor for the illusory nature of human desires.
Final Thoughts
Solaris is not a film about answers but about questions-what it means to love, to remember, and to confront the unknown. The ending's ambiguity ensures that each viewer interprets it through their own emotional lens. Whether Kelvin is saved or damned remains unclear, and that uncertainty is the film's greatest strength. Tarkovsky challenges us to accept that some mysteries, like Solaris itself, cannot be fully understood. The movie's power lies in its ability to haunt, provoke, and linger, much like the planet at its center.