Exploring the Complexities of Plevako: A Series Review
The Series "Plevako": A Modern Deconstruction of Classicism or Boundless Cargo Cult?
The series "Plevako", directed by Anna Matison and released in 2024, has swiftly taken its place among the most talked-about projects of the year. With performances from notable actors like Sergey Bezrukov, Nikolai Shraiber, Olga Lerman, and Maria Smolnikova, the show dazzles on the surface. Yet beneath the glittering facade lies a complex work that has ignited waves of criticism while simultaneously intriguing viewers. Let’s dive deeper into what this project truly embodies.
Plot: A Picture Book Instead of Historical Drama
Promoted as a series based on true events, "Plevako" quickly reveals that historical accuracy is far from the creators' primary concern. The tale of the esteemed lawyer Fyodor Nikiforovich Plevako morphs into a cinematic comic book, laced with elements of action, mysticism, and absurd romance. The protagonist, cleverly renamed Nikolai Fyodorovich (likely to cater to an audience that struggles with the original name), is portrayed as a contemporary superhero, complete with parkour abilities, martial arts skills, and astonishing superhuman sight among other remarkable talents.
The story opens with an absurd scene where Plevako, observing pagan funeral rites for his mother, showcases his skills in underground no-holds-barred fights. Following this spectacle, he returns to Moscow to represent a high-profile case regarding an aristocrat’s murder. Each episode focuses on yet another courtroom drama, where our hero employs deduction, encyclopedic knowledge, and the uncanny ability to recreate 3D projections of the past. Interspersed with acrobatic feats and flashbacks, viewers are swept into a ludicrous blend of historic farce and elements reminiscent of "The Matrix."
Historical Accuracy: A Casualty of Postmodernism
A prominent source of criticism directed at the series is its overtly liberal treatment of historical facts. For instance, the antagonist is portrayed as Konstantin Petrovich Pobedonostsev, the chief prosecutor of the Holy Synod, who bizarrely intrudes into mundane criminal matters. This narrative choice seems utterly ridiculous, considering that the Holy Synod was primarily involved in spiritual affairs and censorship. Moreover, the constant encounters between characters in Moscow raise eyebrows, given that Pobedonostsev’s office was located in Saint Petersburg. It's clear that the creators did not go to the lengths of researching historical realities—perhaps in their vision, a prototype for the high-speed train "Sapsan" zoomed between the two cities in the 19th century.
The industrialist Demidov is illustrated as a cartoonish retrograde villain who indulges in dish-smashing and psychological tormenting of his wife. This portrayal lacks depth, reducing him to a stereotypical "bad guy" meant solely to highlight the protagonist's virtues.
Adaptational Dilemmas: Western Tropes on Russian Soil
Inevitably, comparisons to Western films and series arise. Unlike successful productions like "Lincoln" or "Gangs of New York," which carefully adapt historical narratives, "Plevako" resembles a poorly translated comic. The desire to mimic contemporary trends results in bewildering elements: Plevako’s assistant frequently interjects English words into their dialogue, while the hero himself flaunts his Kalmyk identity with a pomp that might make any Marvel superhero envious.
The influence of feminism and cultural Marxism is particularly noticeable, manifesting through the presence of strong, independent female characters whose lines echo as if borrowed from Twitter slogans. Instead of delving deeply into character development, the creators heavily rely on clichés intended to resonate with modern audiences.
Casting and Performances
Amidst the lackluster script, the actors manage to shine to some extent. Sergey Bezrukov seamlessly embodies the charismatic lawyer’s role, though at times he veers into overacting during moments of "spiritual enlightenment." Olga Lerman, portraying Maria Demidova, brings essential drama, yet she seemingly lacks the charisma needed to render her character memorable. On the other hand, Nikolai Shraiber effectively compensates for his partner’s shortcomings, creating a vivid portrayal of a mad husband infused with strong expression.
Igor Gordin, playing Pobedonostsev, draws on his theatrical background to lend the character depth. However, his portrayal suffers from the absurdities scripted for him. Overall, the casting aligns with the project's standard: competent but lacking finesse.
Visual Aspects and Technical Execution
Despite the storytelling falterings, the series merits applause for its visual elements. Costumes, sets, and cinematography craft an atmosphere that, while not authentically transporting viewers to the 19th century, remains aesthetically pleasing. The flashbacks, abundant throughout the series, are filmed stylishly, though they occasionally venture into pretentious territory. A notable drawback is the sluggish pacing of certain scenes, which often feel reminiscent of theatrical performances devoid of cinematic vigor.
Ending: Attending the "Plevako" Circus
"Plevako" stands as a quintessential product of contemporary Russian television, teetering on the edge of parody while striving to forge something meaningful. The creators aim to placate everyone—from aficionados of historical dramas to action movie fans, and those who appreciate light-hearted absurdity. The outcome is an eclectic project that evokes a spectrum of emotions—laughter, irritation, and curiosity.
So, should you watch this series? If you are willing to overlook the narrative inconsistencies and historical inaccuracies, "Plevako" may offer a modicum of entertainment. However, expecting depth and historical authenticity is unrealistic. More of an amusement ride than a serious work, perhaps therein lies its primary allure.