Olivier Assayas’ The Personal History of David Copperfield (2023): How a Putin Adviser’s Fictional Tale Turns Politics Into Personal Tragedy

In the intersection of high art and geopolitical tragedy, there is a precarious line between analyzing power and inadvertently glamorizing its machinery. This tension sits at the heart of Olivier Assayas’s latest cinematic venture, an adaptation of Giuliano da Empoli’s provocative novel, The Wizard of the Kremlin. For a global audience watching the unfolding crises in Eastern Europe, the project arrives not just as a piece of entertainment, but as a litmus test for how Western cinema processes the internal logic of authoritarianism.

The narrative centers on a fictionalized adviser to Vladimir Putin, a character who embodies the “spin doctor” archetype—the strategist who views the state not as a social contract, but as a stage for psychological manipulation. By focusing on the corridors of power and the intellectual gymnastics required to sustain a dictatorship, Assayas attempts to peel back the curtain on the Kremlin’s operational psyche. However, the transition from the page to the screen raises a critical question: does focusing on the “wizardry” of political manipulation reduce systemic atrocities to mere anecdotes?

As an editor covering the evolution of celebrity and political storytelling in Los Angeles, I have seen a recurring trend in “prestige” cinema where the allure of the “brilliant monster” overshadows the victims of their brilliance. In the case of The Wizard of the Kremlin, the risk is a narrative shift where politics is reduced to personalities. When the focus remains on the intellectual agility of the adviser and the enigmatic presence of the leader, the actual human cost of their policies can easily become background noise—atmospheric detail rather than the central moral weight of the story.

The Architecture of the ‘Political Wizard’

The core of the story, based on the novel by Giuliano da Empoli, is the study of “the technique.” The protagonist is not a traditional politician but a technician of power, someone who understands that in a post-truth era, the perception of strength is more valuable than the reality of governance. This approach mirrors the rise of modern populism globally, where the “image” of the leader is meticulously crafted to evoke a specific emotional response from the populace.

Assayas, a director known for his intellectual rigor and obsession with the fluidity of identity and time, is perhaps the ideal filmmaker to capture this sense of artifice. His cinematic language often emphasizes the distance between a character’s public persona and their private desperation. In this adaptation, the “hollow trickery” refers not just to the political lies told to the public, but to the vacuum of morality that exists at the top of the hierarchy. The “Wizard” discovers that while he can manipulate the narrative, he is ultimately a servant to a power that views everyone—including its most loyal strategists—as disposable.

This focus on the “mechanics of the lie” is where the film finds its intellectual footing. It explores how a regime maintains control not just through brute force, but through the creation of a parallel reality. For the viewer, this provides a chilling insight into the cognitive dissonance required to operate within such a system. Yet, this intellectual exercise carries a danger: it treats the machinery of the state as a fascinating puzzle to be solved rather than a weapon of oppression.

Personalities vs. Politics: The Danger of the Anecdote

The most significant critique of this narrative approach is the potential for “personality-driven” storytelling to erase systemic political analysis. When a film focuses on the interpersonal dynamics between a leader and his adviser, it risks framing history as a series of coincidences or the result of a few “strong” personalities. This perspective ignores the structural forces—economic inequality, historical grievances, and institutional decay—that allow such leaders to rise in the first place.

there is the issue of how atrocities are handled. In a plot driven by the psychological tension of the inner circle, reports of state violence or international aggression often appear as “updates” or “plot points” that affect the protagonist’s standing with the leader. When a massacre or a political purge is presented as an anecdote that creates a “challenge” for the spin doctor to manage, the horror is sanitized. The atrocity becomes a catalyst for character development rather than a tragedy in its own right.

This is the “hollow trickery” of the prestige political thriller. By aestheticizing the environment of the Kremlin—the opulent halls, the hushed whispers, the high-stakes tension—the film may inadvertently create a seductive atmosphere. The audience is invited to admire the cunning of the strategist, even as that cunning is used to facilitate the erasure of human rights. The result is a cinematic experience that may be intellectually stimulating but morally detached.

Key Themes in the Adaptation

• The Theatre of Power: The concept that governance in authoritarian regimes is a performance designed for both internal and external audiences.
• The Disposable Elite: The paradox of the high-level adviser who possesses immense influence but zero actual security.
• The Post-Truth Era: How the manipulation of information becomes the primary tool of statecraft.
• Intellectual Complicity: The moral erosion of the “technocrat” who justifies their actions as mere professional efficiency.

Assayas and the Cinematic Interpretation of Power

Olivier Assayas has always been a filmmaker of the “marginalized intellectual.” From his early works to his more recent explorations of globalism, he is interested in how individuals navigate systems that are larger than themselves. In The Wizard of the Kremlin, he applies this lens to the most opaque system in the world. His use of long takes and overlapping dialogue likely serves to immerse the viewer in the claustrophobia of the inner circle, where a single misplaced word can lead to professional or physical liquidation.

However, the challenge for any director tackling this subject is avoiding the “Great Man” theory of history. If the film suggests that the trajectory of a nation is merely the result of the whims of a few men in a room, it fails to provide a true critique of power. The most successful political cinema—such as the works of Costa-Gavras or the detailed reporting of investigative documentaries—links the actions of the elite directly to the suffering of the marginalized.

To move beyond “hollow trickery,” the adaptation must ensure that the “anecdotes” of atrocity are given the weight they deserve. The narrative must break the vacuum of the Kremlin and show the ripple effects of the Wizard’s strategies on the streets of Moscow, and beyond. Without this connection, the film remains a psychological study of narcissism and ambition, rather than a political study of power and its consequences.

What Which means for the Global Audience

For a global audience, the fascination with the “inner workings” of the Kremlin is understandable. There is a natural desire to understand the “why” behind the actions of a regime that has disrupted global stability. But there is a difference between understanding the psychology of a dictator’s adviser and understanding the nature of the dictatorship itself.

As we consume these narratives, it is essential to ask: who is the protagonist of this story? If the protagonist is the man manipulating the strings, the audience is positioned to empathize with the manipulator. If the narrative fails to center the victims of that manipulation, it risks becoming a manual on how to exercise power effectively, rather than a warning against its abuse.

The “Wizard” in the story is a metaphor for the modern political strategist who believes they are the master of the game, only to realize they are merely a piece on the board. This is a potent theme, but it must not come at the expense of political clarity. The tragedy of the Kremlin is not that it is run by “wizards” and “tricksters,” but that it is a system that systematically destroys the truth to preserve the ego of the few.

The Wizard of the Kremlin stands as a challenge to the viewer. It asks us to look into the void of power and decide if we are seeing a critique of that void or simply a reflection of our own fascination with it. As the film moves toward its wider release and critical reception, the conversation will likely shift from the quality of the acting to the ethics of the framing.

The next critical checkpoint for this project will be its official premiere and subsequent reviews from major international film festivals, where critics will determine if Assayas has succeeded in capturing the horror of the regime or if he has merely captured its aesthetic. We will continue to monitor the release schedule and critical response as more information becomes available.

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