Jude Law has transformed. Forget the charming roles of his past; he now embodies a figure of immense power and controversy – Vladimir Putin. This isn’t mere acting; it’s a complete immersion, a performance that’s both assured and unsettling inThe Wizard of the Kremlin.
The film doesn’t center on Putin, however. Instead, it orbits around Vadim Baranov, a fictional character brilliantly portrayed by Paul Dano, and inspired by the enigmatic Vladislav Surkov, a key architect of Putin’s rise. Dano, often overlooked, delivers a quietly compelling performance, a masterclass in subtle intensity.
Baranov’s journey begins in the chaotic, exhilarating world of 90s post-Soviet Russia, a landscape of artistic experimentation and unrestrained excess. A wild house party, a shocking image – a naked figure led on a chain – marks the moment he encounters Ksenia, a free spirit who will briefly illuminate his path.
The narrative unfolds as a retrospective, framed by an interview with Baranov in his retirement. He recounts a life dedicated to shaping political narratives, a descent into the heart of power. The film acknowledges its fictionalized elements with a disclaimer, a necessary precaution when dealing with such sensitive subject matter.
Tom Sturridge injects a vibrant energy as Dmitri Sidorov, a gregarious banker, one of the many characters Baranov encounters as he navigates the shifting political landscape. These encounters ultimately lead him to Boris Berezovsky, who sees in Baranov a potential tool, a puppet to elevate to the highest echelons of government.
The film’s brilliance lies in its depiction of the underestimation of Putin. Berezovsky dismisses him with a casual remark – “He’s no rocket scientist, but he’ll do just fine.” – a chilling foreshadowing of the force to come. It’s a moment that highlights the film’s sharp, satirical edge.
Law’s transformation is remarkable. He doesn’t attempt a mimicry, but rather captures the essence of Putin’s physicality – the subtle expressions, the contained aggression, the carefully cultivated image of strength. The pouting lip, the furrowed brow, are rendered with unnerving accuracy.
While Law’s performance is captivating, the film occasionally falters in its pacing. It feels episodic at times, moving through chapters of Baranov’s life without fully connecting them. The narrative, though comprehensive, can be challenging for those unfamiliar with the historical context.
Despite these minor shortcomings,The Wizard of the Kremlinoffers a fascinating, if somewhat surface-level, exploration of the past 25 years. It’s a film powered by exceptional performances, a testament to the talent of both Law and Dano, and a compelling glimpse into the shadowy world of political manipulation.
Ultimately,The Wizard of the Kremlinis a solid, thought-provoking work. It may not be a masterpiece, but the nuanced performances at its core – particularly those of Law and Dano – elevate it beyond the ordinary, leaving a lasting impression.
