The Wizard of the Kremlin arrives as a film that promises to be bold—yet delivers something far more cautious. Based on the 2022 book by Giuliano da Empoli, Assayas’ latest project follows the fictionalized rise of Vadim Baranov (Paul Dano), a Russian artist-turned-political strategist whose influence shapes the early career of Vladimir Putin (Jude Law). With a premise steeped in real historical figures and geopolitical intrigue, the film should have been a standout. Instead, it risks becoming the year’s most talked-about disappointment.

From the outset, The Wizard of the Kremlin struggles to reconcile its ambitious subject matter with a narrative that often feels disjointed. The film’s opening scenes are stiff and mannered, immediately raising questions about whether Olivier Assayas—the acclaimed director behind Irma Vep (1996), Clouds of Sils Maria (2014), and Personal Shopper (2016)—was the right filmmaker for this story. While Assayas excels at atmospheric, dialogue-driven narratives, The Wizard of the Kremlin leans too heavily on static conversations and historical footnotes, leaving little room for the emotional or political depth its premise demands.

The film’s structure—alternating between flashbacks and present-day narration—adds layers but also creates a fragmented experience. The most compelling moments arrive when the film cuts to real archival footage of Boris Yeltsin and other Soviet-era figures, underscoring how a documentary might have served the material better. These interludes highlight the missed opportunity: Assayas’ signature style, which thrives on intimate character studies, clashes with the broader historical sweep of the story.

Paul Dano’s Mismatched Casting: A Missed Opportunity

At the center of the film is Paul Dano’s portrayal of Vadim Baranov, a character based loosely on the real-life Vladislav Surkov, a former Russian political strategist. Dano, known for his nuanced performances in The Batman (2022) and Love & Mercy (2015), delivers a performance that feels intentionally flat—a whispery, monotone delivery that fails to breathe life into Baranov’s intellectual and political cunning. The disconnect is glaring: Dano is a master of subtlety, yet here he seems ill-suited for a role that demands charisma and gravitas.

Critics have noted that Dano’s casting may have been influenced by Assayas’ desire to avoid a Russian-speaking actor, a decision that undermines the film’s authenticity. The result is a Baranov who feels more like a bureaucrat than a visionary, robbed of the magnetic presence that could have made the story compelling. Meanwhile, Jude Law’s brief but pivotal role as Vladimir Putin is undermined by his lack of a Russian accent, making his portrayal feel more like a cameo than a substantive performance.

Adding to the film’s inconsistencies is Alicia Vikander’s standout turn as Ksenia, a character who steals every scene she’s in. Vikander’s presence is a rare bright spot, but her limited screen time leaves audiences wanting more. The film’s supporting cast—including a bizarre cameo by Matthew Baunsgard as Larry King—further muddies the waters, detracting from the core narrative.

A Film That Should Have Been a Documentary

The most striking aspect of The Wizard of the Kremlin is its reliance on real footage, which at times feels like an afterthought rather than a deliberate artistic choice. The film’s interspersed clips of Soviet-era speeches and political maneuvers are far more engaging than the fictionalized scenes, raising the question: Why not lean into this approach fully?

A documentary or hybrid film exploring the real-life Vladislav Surkov’s influence on Russian politics could have been a groundbreaking project. Instead, Assayas’ fictionalized account feels like a missed chance to create something both historically resonant and cinematically gripping. The film’s 136-minute runtime is filled with meandering dialogue and underdeveloped subplots, leaving audiences with a sense of dissatisfaction.

Even the film’s boldest moments—such as Baranov’s narration declaring, “That day, Putin became a czar”—feel like fleeting asides rather than the focal point of a deeper exploration. The Pygmalion-like dynamic between mentor and protégé is intriguing but never fully realized, leaving the film’s political themes underdeveloped.

Assayas’ Legacy vs. The Wizard of the Kremlin

Olivier Assayas has long been celebrated for his ability to blend intellectual depth with visual poetry. Films like Personal Shopper and Clouds of Sils Maria demonstrate his knack for turning personal dramas into universal meditations. Yet The Wizard of the Kremlin feels like a departure—a film that prioritizes historical context over emotional resonance.

While Assayas’ earlier works often explored the intersections of art and power, this film struggles to find its footing. The dialogue, though sharp in places, lacks the rhythmic precision that defines his best films. The pacing is uneven, with some scenes dragging while others rush past key moments. The result is a film that feels incomplete, as if Assayas was more interested in the idea of the story than its execution.

What Went Wrong?

Several factors contribute to The Wizard of the Kremlin’s underwhelming reception:

• Casting Choices: Paul Dano’s performance, while technically sound, fails to capture the complexity of Baranov. A Russian-speaking actor might have grounded the film in authenticity.
• Narrative Structure: The film’s reliance on flashbacks and historical footnotes creates a disjointed experience, leaving key themes underdeveloped.
• Missed Documentary Potential: The real footage interspersed throughout the film suggests a documentary hybrid could have been far more effective.
• Underutilized Talent: Alicia Vikander’s standout performance is overshadowed by the film’s pacing and focus, while Jude Law’s Putin feels like an afterthought.

The film’s most memorable moment—its final shot—arrives too late to salvage the experience. By then, audiences are left wondering what could have been.

Final Verdict: A Film That Falls Short

The Wizard of the Kremlin is not a poor film, but it is a disappointing one. It lacks the ambition of Assayas’ best work and the emotional punch of its premise. While it may not be a complete failure, it risks being remembered as a cautionary tale about how even the most talented filmmakers can stumble when tackling complex historical subjects.

For cinephiles, the film serves as a reminder that sometimes, the most compelling stories are best told through documentary lenses. Assayas’ next project will need to reclaim the magic that made his earlier films so unforgettable.

Key Takeaways

• The Wizard of the Kremlin struggles with pacing, casting, and narrative focus, leaving audiences dissatisfied.
• Paul Dano’s performance feels mismatched for the role of Vadim Baranov, lacking the charisma needed to anchor the film.
• The film’s reliance on real footage suggests a documentary hybrid could have been more effective.
• Alicia Vikander’s standout scenes are overshadowed by the film’s uneven execution.
• Assayas’ signature style clashes with the historical scope of the story, resulting in a disjointed experience.

What’s Next? With no official word on Assayas’ next project, cinephiles will be watching closely to see if he can reclaim the momentum that made Personal Shopper and Clouds of Sils Maria modern classics.

Sophia Martinez is a senior entertainment journalist with 15+ years of experience covering film, music, and celebrity culture. She has interviewed Hollywood’s biggest stars and reported from major events like the Oscars and Cannes Film Festival.

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