Magician of the Kremlin: A Political Drama Worth Streaming or Skipping?
Magician of the Kremlin, now streaming on Prime Video and other platforms, presents a political narrative featuring Paul Dano in the role of Vadim Baronov, the character behind Jude Law’s portrayal of Vladimir Putin. Directed by Olivier Assayas, known for works like Irma Vep and Personal Shopper, the film’s premise is intriguing, especially considering the actors’ strong performances. However, the story often feels stretched and convoluted, occasionally dragging on. In some ways, it’s laborious.
Stream or Skip?
At the heart of the film is Baronov’s invention, Vertushka, a unique telephone directly linked to the Kremlin. It symbolizes the core of Russia’s power. Now, in 2019, it’s merely a relic without an active connection. The American journalist Roland, played by Jeffrey Wright, finds himself in Baronov’s residence, listening to the tale of how Baronov transitioned from theater director to a key figure in Russian politics, particularly in establishing Putin’s image under the ambiguous notion of “sovereign democracy.” This term, much like “alternative fact,” can feel insubstantial.
Baronov’s journey begins with convoluted exposition about Wright’s trip to Russia, followed by an expository voiceover where Dano narrates his ascent. The heavy emphasis on narrative can become tedious. Yet, Baronov’s ventures in experimental theater amidst the chaos of post-communist Russia and his later stints in reality TV illustrate a disconcerting trend where entertainment might undermine democracy. We witness a fragile Boris Yeltsin, an alcoholic, addressing the nation—a stark representation of a once formidable Russia that appears to seek strong leadership.
In this context, Baronov cynically mocks the impact of art and entertainment, seizing his chance in Russian politics. He forms connections with opportunistic figures, including the ambitious actress Ksenia, played by Alicia Vikander. As he ingrains himself within the elite, she leaves him to pursue her own upward climb, with a suggestion that she might return when circumstances favor him. Eventually, Baronov and his allies establish a political faction, maneuvering through the political landscape dominated by the likes of Putin, who seems unbothered by a portrayal such as this. Perhaps it’s the slowly unfolding plot that feels somewhat lacking in drama.
In terms of comparisons, Magician of the Kremlin falls into a bland middle ground between the sharply satirical Death of Stalin and the unsettling biopic Apprentice.
Dano plays Baronov in a way that highlights his reserved nature, juxtaposing Putin’s boldness with a quieter tone. While both actors are commendable in their roles, Dano’s portrayal may or may not resonate. Law captures Putin’s threatening demeanor, balancing masculine vulnerabilities with an intense stare.
As for romantic elements, they are brief and lack depth.
In terms of critique, Assayas approaches the “banal evil” theme with a degree of subtlety, but the film rarely captures heightened emotion. While the intention may be to reflect on the creeping toxicity in daily life, it results in 137 minutes of drawn-out dialogue punctuated by lengthy conversations that can feel monotonous. After countless scenes of Dano’s character sharing tea, you might find yourself feeling a bit restless as well.
Assayas seems to challenge viewers to visualize abstract concepts of power dynamics and social media manipulation, relying on Dano and Law to uplift a somewhat verbose script. Based on a novel by Assayas and Emmanuel Carrère, the film meanders through decades without significant pacing. The arc of Baronov’s life—from a punk scene to luxurious exile—ends up feeling unusually flat. His romance with Ksenia is whirlpool-like but lacks substantial development, and their interactions miss sparks of chemistry.
Glimpses of life pop up sporadically, like Baronov dealing with chaotic figures or Putin’s frustrations about public perception, but these moments are fleeting. The film attempts to delve into the aesthetics of power through intricate production details, yet the ensemble feels underdeveloped, leading to conversations that occasionally spark interest but quickly fade. The movie closes on a notable moment that feels not just expected but indifferent.
The conclusion is clear: Magician of the Kremlin lacks any semblance of true magic. It might be best to pass on this one.
