Andrei Tarkovsky, lying in his hospital bed, awaits the arrival of his son Andryusha from Moscow, after the Soviet authorities, upon learning of the director's irreversible health condition, agreed to grant him an exit visa. Five years have passed since their last meeting, and Andryusha is no longer the child he left behind in the USSR. Without getting out of bed, Andrei and Andryusha embrace. Is such sacrifice for cinema worthwhile?