The Wizard of the Kremlin

Olivier Assayas’s adaptation of Giuliano da Empoli’s The Wizard of the Kremlin arrives freighted with topicality, promising an inside view of the murky mechanics of Russian power. On paper, it is hard to imagine a timelier proposition. The story begins in the chaotic birth of the Russian Federation, following Vadim Baranov (Paul Dano), a television producer turned political adviser, as he ascends into the inner circle of Vladimir Putin (Jude Law). Dano’s Baranov takes the role of narrator, and the film clings closely to Da Empoli’s epistolary fragments, at times quoting entire passages. The emotional intimacy that proved compelling on the page, however, translates here into inert voiceover. Dano, usually so adept at channelling nervous energy, struggles to convince as either Machiavellian schemer or sinister courtier. Even when Baranov delivers chilling observations about power and control, the performance feels muted, more resigned than ruthless. At no point does one truly believe this man could have shouldered his way into the Kremlin’s inner sanctum. Alicia Vikander fares little better as Ksenia, Baranov’s romantic interest, briefly evoking Fitzgerald’s fickle Daisy Buchanan before being confined to an unconvincing sentimental subplot that highlights The Wizard of Kremlin‘s narrative weaknesses.

The surprise, perhaps, is Law’s Putin, who appears with a peculiar watchfulness: stiffened shoulders, cautious poise and lips pursed just shy of caricature. It is a performance less about mimicry than embodiment, conveying the wary stillness of a man conscious of his own myth. For an actor faced with the challenge of portraying a living figure who looms so large, it is an unexpectedly deft turn.

Yet even Law’s performance cannot redeem a work that never quite earns its existence. Assayas leans too heavily on the cachet of Da Empoli’s novel and the ready-made intrigue of post-Soviet politics, treating history as self-justifying and assuming that the sheer scale of Putin’s rise will hold viewers spellbound for the film’s two-and-a-half-hour runtime. What emerges instead is a satire drained of bite, undermined by a weak protagonist and all too willing to imitate the pageantry of power.

Christina Yang

The Wizard of the Kremlin does not have a release date yet.

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