The Wizard of the Kremlin - Film Review

Gayle O’Leary reviews The Wizard of the Kremlin starring Paul Dano as Vadim Baranov, theatre maker turned tv producer then ultimately advisor to former KGB agent, President Vladimir Putin. Dano is joined by Jude Law as Putin, Will Keen, Jeffrey Wright and Alicia Vikander in a tumultuous chronicle of the rapid transformation of post Soviet Russia to today’s authoritarian regime.

The drastic transformation of Russia from a communist state to one best described as tightly controlled neoliberalism under the whims of a government-sanctioned oligarchy is no accident.

Vadim Baranov, loosely based on real figures in Russia, is described as a mysterious figure, a modern Rasputin.

Baranov recounts his life over the past few short decades with suggestions of political machinations, negotiations, and recountings of the early internet misinformation “bot” farms. His notoriety in the film stems from being one of a select opportunistic few who were directly instrumental for savaging Russia’s brief glimpse of a democracy when they installed former FSB agent Vladimir Putin in power then whispered in his ear.

Director Oliver Assayas struggled with adapating the critically acclaimed debut novel of his Tuscan neighbour, Giuliano da Empoli, for some time after originally receiving the manuscript in early 2022. Assayas considered the book too abstract, too dialogue-heavy; many elements that flow naturally in the novel – reflections on power, modern Russian history – “seemed overly thorny for cinema”. A few more eager calls from producers intent on adapting the book eventually convinced him.

Paul Dano is a masterful, versatile actor, yet I found this to be one of his weaker performances. He battles with a fake suave Russian accent so fiercely that he never dares vary his tone, add inflections, or indeed do anything to counter the suggestion that he is dead inside. He glides through hallways, perches to the side, lounges in sofas, and narrates endlessly in a sedated drone. There is an excessive amount of narration in the film. Audiences could easily piece together the described events themselves, and have benefited perhaps from greater focus on the most pivotal historic events.

Humorously for me, there’s a direct correlation between Baranov’s hairstyles and his status in life. He starts out as a subdued yet bold theatre producer swathed in cosy jumpers under a leather jacket and gradually discovers bryl cream as a hotshot tv producer then back to a more discrete look as a restrained man in black while strutting around the Kremlin.

He is given slightly more dimension through the addition of a love interest, Ksenia (Alicia Vikander). Ksenia only wants him when she thinks he’s the most powerful man in the room. It’s sadly the most interesting thing about her once she finishes an eyebrow-raising punk rock dominatrix performance during a student party. She soon leaves Baranov for oligarch and shameless party boy, Dimitri Sidorov (Tom Sturridge).

Scorned, Baranov ultimately rejects the liberal left leanings of his grandfather and decides it’s time to play an active role in his times. He confesses to his father that Ksenia’s departure has made him ambitious. That’s a generous way of describing overcompensation for the bruised ego of a cuckold.

(Ironically, Baranov inevitably appeals to Ksenia again later even as she outright condemns his involvement in atrocities attributed to the KGB).

Jude Law is formidable as Putin. Chilling. The gravity and intensity he brings to the role lifts the entire film. He emulates his movements perfectly. Drawn in shots of Law make for an unnerving, electrified atmosphere and render all those surrounding him as feeble ants. His appetite for shaping Russia according to his ideals degrades into a bloodthirsty power mania reminscient of Stalin’s Soviet Union.

Anyone who challenges him is either exiled for life or likely assassinated, such as the once-spooky-soon-cowed Boris Berezovsky (Will Keen) whose news program publicly criticised the regime in their handling of the Kursk sunken nuclear submarine. Freedoms the populace briefly participated in following the fall of the USSR are cruelly swept away.

The Wizard of the Kremlin would have felt less two dimensional to me during its protracted runtime if it invested more effort in showing rather than telling. The slow pacing might be easier to forgive if it more closely followed Le Carre’s Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy. There is too much exposition through dialogue, western perspectives are barely shown at all yet the CIA is blamed for Ukrainian separatism and there is very little opportunity given to counter this. Shocking, fascinating events such as the Chechen wars and annexation of Crimea are retold and largely left to the imagination, barring one fatal car explosion in the distance.

Our American scholar (Jeffrey Wright) instead sits with his mouth slightly agape in exiled Vadim’s living room, reflecting on the inconsistencies of a man who shares his passion for the seminal novel “We” by Yevgeny Zamyatin (reportedly the inspiration for Orwell’s 1984) and used it as a blueprint for a modern dictatorship. He occasionally interjects with a pointed question that is simply dodged or dismissed by Baranov.

The most crushing part of the film for me had nothing to do with any of the characters, I felt no sympathy for any of them. Rather, it was the thought that this was not just preventable. It was intentional. Sculpted misery. A terrifying monster of a system that took down so many of the people responsible for building it.

Audiences are left with the question: did Baranov deserve the ruin he brought upon himself?

Six out of ten stars. I think I’ll enjoy the novel more.

The Wizard of the Kremlin hits Luna cinemas on 23 July

Running time: 144 minutes

MA15+