‘The Wizard of the Kremlin’ review: Authoritarianism by numbers, thinly

Frenchman Olivier Assayas’ canvas is either highly personal (“Suspended Time”) or deliriously global (“Carlos”). He can be hard to pin down as a filmmaker, except when the material does the restraining for him, as the intermittently arresting but overplayed piece of political theater “The Wizard of the Kremlin” proves.

Operating off the same-named novel by Giuliano da Empoli, about a behind-the-scenes manipulator named Vadim Baranov helping to orchestrate Russian leader Vladimir Putin’s rise to power, Assayas and co-screenwriter-journalist Emmanuel Carrère have fashioned a whirlwind shadow biopic of 21st century tsardom that blends the real story (Jude Law is Putin) and an invented one (Paul Dano is Baranov) with all the wisdom-in-hindsight energy of an old-school epic dramatizing How Things Came to Be.

The problem, though, from its clichéd interview framing (Jeffrey Wright plays an American journalist visiting the retired Baranov at his estate) to the tediously narrated flashback structure, is that the movie never lives and breathes inside its stitched-together moments, preferring to be a relentless, country-hopping talkfest in which characters opine as if fully aware of the consequential era they’re in, fully ready to explain it.

That doesn’t apply to a scarily good Law, who makes the most of a curiously underwritten featured-player part. When given center stage, his Putin is commanding, reminding us of the real sinister power in the room. But everyone else in “The Wizard of the Kremlin” is mouthpiece first, character second. Post-Cold War Russia’s swerve away from clunky democracy is as fascinating a turn of events as geopolitics gets, but it’s been reduced to an extended lecture on power, divvied up into timeline hits (from Yeltsin’s nascent kleptocracy to Putin’s violent fearmongering) and speaking parts made of aphorisms and commentary. (“If you don’t grab power, power grabs you” or “Russia has always needed a strongman,” etc.)

The Zelig-like Baranov character — understood to be a liberalized avatar for inner circle strategist Vladislav Surkov — is an interesting mix of cynicism and opportunity. He goes from being an idealist directing avant-garde theater to honing his manipulation chops making reality TV and eventually helping a savvy business magnate (Will Keen as Boris Berezovsky) fashion Putin into a palatable, malleable politician for an electorate hungry for stability. But when the ex-spymaster’s cold lust to return Russia to imperial glory becomes vengeful and warlike, Baranov’s principles give way to a ruthless impulse.

If only the sorely miscast Dano had the weight to sell this guided tour of corruption — a role that could have been in the vein of one of Scorsese’s charismatic motormouth narrators. Affectedly hushed and conspiratorial in nearly every scene, his accent an afterthought, the normally evocative actor comes off more like a one-note Bond villain in training than someone whose smarts and complexities are meant to intrigue. There’s also little chemistry in his scenes with Alicia Vikander, herself struggling to find dimension in a trophy girlfriend, whose greatest skill in an ever-changing Russia seems to be as an oligarch whisperer.

As “Wizard” barrels along, content to be aimlessly scornful and sloppy, it’s hard not to be reminded of Assayas’ much more successfully finessed “Carlos” and how this effort feels like a truncated miniseries, trimmed of nuance and emotion. It’s sketched out for cynical skimming rather than deeper psychological consideration.

Frenchman Olivier Assayas’ canvas is either highly personal (“Suspended Time”) or deliriously global (“Carlos”). He can be hard to pin down as a filmmaker, except when the material does the restraining for him, as the intermittently arresting but overplayed piece of political theater “The Wizard of the Kremlin” proves.

Operating off the same-named novel by Giuliano da Empoli, about a behind-the-scenes manipulator named Vadim Baranov helping to orchestrate Russian leader Vladimir Putin’s rise to power, Assayas and co-screenwriter-journalist Emmanuel Carrère have fashioned a whirlwind shadow biopic of 21st century tsardom that blends the real story (Jude Law is Putin) and an invented one (Paul Dano is Baranov) with all the wisdom-in-hindsight energy of an old-school epic dramatizing How Things Came to Be.

The problem, though, from its clichéd interview framing (Jeffrey Wright plays an American journalist visiting the retired Baranov at his estate) to the tediously narrated flashback structure, is that the movie never lives and breathes inside its stitched-together moments, preferring to be a relentless, country-hopping talkfest in which characters opine as if fully aware of the consequential era they’re in, fully ready to explain it.

That doesn’t apply to a scarily good Law, who makes the most of a curiously underwritten featured-player part. When given center stage, his Putin is commanding, reminding us of the real sinister power in the room. But everyone else in “The Wizard of the Kremlin” is mouthpiece first, character second. Post-Cold War Russia’s swerve away from clunky democracy is as fascinating a turn of events as geopolitics gets, but it’s been reduced to an extended lecture on power, divvied up into timeline hits (from Yeltsin’s nascent kleptocracy to Putin’s violent fearmongering) and speaking parts made of aphorisms and commentary. (“If you don’t grab power, power grabs you” or “Russia has always needed a strongman,” etc.)

The Zelig-like Baranov character — understood to be a liberalized avatar for inner circle strategist Vladislav Surkov — is an interesting mix of cynicism and opportunity. He goes from being an idealist directing avant-garde theater to honing his manipulation chops making reality TV and eventually helping a savvy business magnate (Will Keen as Boris Berezovsky) fashion Putin into a palatable, malleable politician for an electorate hungry for stability. But when the ex-spymaster’s cold lust to return Russia to imperial glory becomes vengeful and warlike, Baranov’s principles give way to a ruthless impulse.

If only the sorely miscast Dano had the weight to sell this guided tour of corruption — a role that could have been in the vein of one of Scorsese’s charismatic motormouth narrators. Affectedly hushed and conspiratorial in nearly every scene, his accent an afterthought, the normally evocative actor comes off more like a one-note Bond villain in training than someone whose smarts and complexities are meant to intrigue. There’s also little chemistry in his scenes with Alicia Vikander, herself struggling to find dimension in a trophy girlfriend, whose greatest skill in an ever-changing Russia seems to be as an oligarch whisperer.

As “Wizard” barrels along, content to be aimlessly scornful and sloppy, it’s hard not to be reminded of Assayas’ much more successfully finessed “Carlos” and how this effort feels like a truncated miniseries, trimmed of nuance and emotion. It’s sketched out for cynical skimming rather than deeper psychological consideration.

Frenchman Olivier Assayas’ canvas is either highly personal (“Suspended Time”) or deliriously global (“Carlos”). He can be hard to pin down as a filmmaker, except when the material does the restraining for him, as the intermittently arresting but overplayed piece of political theater “The Wizard of the Kremlin” proves.

Operating off the same-named novel by Giuliano da Empoli, about a behind-the-scenes manipulator named Vadim Baranov helping to orchestrate Russian leader Vladimir Putin’s rise to power, Assayas and co-screenwriter-journalist Emmanuel Carrère have fashioned a whirlwind shadow biopic of 21st century tsardom that blends the real story (Jude Law is Putin) and an invented one (Paul Dano is Baranov) with all the wisdom-in-hindsight energy of an old-school epic dramatizing How Things Came to Be.

The problem, though, from its clichéd interview framing (Jeffrey Wright plays an American journalist visiting the retired Baranov at his estate) to the tediously narrated flashback structure, is that the movie never lives and breathes inside its stitched-together moments, preferring to be a relentless, country-hopping talkfest in which characters opine as if fully aware of the consequential era they’re in, fully ready to explain it.

That doesn’t apply to a scarily good Law, who makes the most of a curiously underwritten featured-player part. When given center stage, his Putin is commanding, reminding us of the real sinister power in the room. But everyone else in “The Wizard of the Kremlin” is mouthpiece first, character second. Post-Cold War Russia’s swerve away from clunky democracy is as fascinating a turn of events as geopolitics gets, but it’s been reduced to an extended lecture on power, divvied up into timeline hits (from Yeltsin’s nascent kleptocracy to Putin’s violent fearmongering) and speaking parts made of aphorisms and commentary. (“If you don’t grab power, power grabs you” or “Russia has always needed a strongman,” etc.)

The Zelig-like Baranov character — understood to be a liberalized avatar for inner circle strategist Vladislav Surkov — is an interesting mix of cynicism and opportunity. He goes from being an idealist directing avant-garde theater to honing his manipulation chops making reality TV and eventually helping a savvy business magnate (Will Keen as Boris Berezovsky) fashion Putin into a palatable, malleable politician for an electorate hungry for stability. But when the ex-spymaster’s cold lust to return Russia to imperial glory becomes vengeful and warlike, Baranov’s principles give way to a ruthless impulse.

If only the sorely miscast Dano had the weight to sell this guided tour of corruption — a role that could have been in the vein of one of Scorsese’s charismatic motormouth narrators. Affectedly hushed and conspiratorial in nearly every scene, his accent an afterthought, the normally evocative actor comes off more like a one-note Bond villain in training than someone whose smarts and complexities are meant to intrigue. There’s also little chemistry in his scenes with Alicia Vikander, herself struggling to find dimension in a trophy girlfriend, whose greatest skill in an ever-changing Russia seems to be as an oligarch whisperer.

As “Wizard” barrels along, content to be aimlessly scornful and sloppy, it’s hard not to be reminded of Assayas’ much more successfully finessed “Carlos” and how this effort feels like a truncated miniseries, trimmed of nuance and emotion. It’s sketched out for cynical skimming rather than deeper psychological consideration.

Frenchman Olivier Assayas’ canvas is either highly personal (“Suspended Time”) or deliriously global (“Carlos”). He can be hard to pin down as a filmmaker, except when the material does the restraining for him, as the intermittently arresting but overplayed piece of political theater “The Wizard of the Kremlin” proves.

Operating off the same-named novel by Giuliano da Empoli, about a behind-the-scenes manipulator named Vadim Baranov helping to orchestrate Russian leader Vladimir Putin’s rise to power, Assayas and co-screenwriter-journalist Emmanuel Carrère have fashioned a whirlwind shadow biopic of 21st century tsardom that blends the real story (Jude Law is Putin) and an invented one (Paul Dano is Baranov) with all the wisdom-in-hindsight energy of an old-school epic dramatizing How Things Came to Be.

The problem, though, from its clichéd interview framing (Jeffrey Wright plays an American journalist visiting the retired Baranov at his estate) to the tediously narrated flashback structure, is that the movie never lives and breathes inside its stitched-together moments, preferring to be a relentless, country-hopping talkfest in which characters opine as if fully aware of the consequential era they’re in, fully ready to explain it.

That doesn’t apply to a scarily good Law, who makes the most of a curiously underwritten featured-player part. When given center stage, his Putin is commanding, reminding us of the real sinister power in the room. But everyone else in “The Wizard of the Kremlin” is mouthpiece first, character second. Post-Cold War Russia’s swerve away from clunky democracy is as fascinating a turn of events as geopolitics gets, but it’s been reduced to an extended lecture on power, divvied up into timeline hits (from Yeltsin’s nascent kleptocracy to Putin’s violent fearmongering) and speaking parts made of aphorisms and commentary. (“If you don’t grab power, power grabs you” or “Russia has always needed a strongman,” etc.)

The Zelig-like Baranov character — understood to be a liberalized avatar for inner circle strategist Vladislav Surkov — is an interesting mix of cynicism and opportunity. He goes from being an idealist directing avant-garde theater to honing his manipulation chops making reality TV and eventually helping a savvy business magnate (Will Keen as Boris Berezovsky) fashion Putin into a palatable, malleable politician for an electorate hungry for stability. But when the ex-spymaster’s cold lust to return Russia to imperial glory becomes vengeful and warlike, Baranov’s principles give way to a ruthless impulse.

If only the sorely miscast Dano had the weight to sell this guided tour of corruption — a role that could have been in the vein of one of Scorsese’s charismatic motormouth narrators. Affectedly hushed and conspiratorial in nearly every scene, his accent an afterthought, the normally evocative actor comes off more like a one-note Bond villain in training than someone whose smarts and complexities are meant to intrigue. There’s also little chemistry in his scenes with Alicia Vikander, herself struggling to find dimension in a trophy girlfriend, whose greatest skill in an ever-changing Russia seems to be as an oligarch whisperer.

As “Wizard” barrels along, content to be aimlessly scornful and sloppy, it’s hard not to be reminded of Assayas’ much more successfully finessed “Carlos” and how this effort feels like a truncated miniseries, trimmed of nuance and emotion. It’s sketched out for cynical skimming rather than deeper psychological consideration.