Exploring the Absurdity of "Plevako": A TV Series Review
The series "Plevako", which aired in 2024 under the direction of Anna Matison, has emerged as one of the hottest topics of discussion this year. Featuring prominent actors like Sergey Bezrukov, Nikolai Shraiber, Olga Lerman, and Maria Smolnikova, this show has garnered intense scrutiny alongside a whirlwind of viewer interest. Beneath the shiny exterior and star-studded cast lies a work that has sparked a considerable debate on its worth. Let's delve deeper into what this project essentially represents.
Plot: A Tale of Folly Instead of Historical Drama
Marketed as inspired by real events, "Plevako" quickly reveals itself in its opening scenes as being more interested in entertainment than in historical accuracy. The life of the eminent lawyer Fyodor Nikiforovich Plevako metamorphoses into a cinematic comic. Complete with elements of action, mysticism, and cringe-worthy romance, we see the protagonist, cleverly renamed Nikolai Fyodorovich (likely to cater to an audience struggling with the original name), embodying the role of a modern superhero adept in parkour, kung fu, and various other astonishing capabilities.
The narrative kicks off with a ludicrous episode where Plevako, after conducting a pagan burial for his mother, showcases his abilities in underground no-holds-barred fights. What follows is his return to Moscow, where he takes on a scandalous murder case of a nobleman. Each episode focuses on a different court trial in which our hero employs deduction, a wealth of encyclopedic knowledge, and the ability to conjure 3D projections of the past. This comedic mishmash is peppered with acrobatic stunts and flashbacks that whisk viewers into a ridiculous blend of historical farce reminiscent of "The Matrix."
Historical Accuracy: A Sacrifice to Postmodernism
One of the primary sources of criticism directed at the series is its blatant disregard for historical facts. For instance, the antagonist role is filled by Konstantin Petrovich Pobedonostsev, the Chief Prosecutor of the Holy Synod, who inexplicably steps into a mundane criminal investigation. This plot twist is absurd, given that the Holy Synod was focused purely on spiritual matters and censorship. Moreover, the frequent crossing of characters over to Moscow raises eyebrows, especially since Pobedonostsev’s official duties were centered in St. Petersburg. It appears the creators didn’t bother with historical realities — one might assume they envisioned some sort of prototype train, similar to the "Sapsan," bridging the two capitals in the 19th century.
Another adversary, the industrialist Demidov, is presented as a caricatured retrograde villain engaging in domestic violence and throwing dishes. This simplistic portrayal lacks nuance and reduces the character to a mere embodiment of evil, serving only to highlight the protagonist's supposed virtue.
Adaptational Challenges: Western Clichés on Russian Soil
The inevitable comparison to Western films and series looms large. Unlike successful endeavors such as "Lincoln" or "Gangs of New York" that masterfully adapt historical narratives, "Plevako" feels like a poorly translated comic. In an attempt to mimic contemporary trends, it introduces absurd elements where Plevako’s assistant bombards conversations with English phrases. Meanwhile, the protagonist solemnly emphasizes his Kalmyk identity with a gravitas that would make any Marvel superhero envious.
The influence of feminism and cultural Marxism is particularly palpable. It manifests in the form of strong, independent heroines whose dialogues occasionally sound like slogans ripped straight from Twitter. Rather than exploring character depth, the creators rely heavily on clichés that resonate with today’s audience, thereby undermining any opportunity for genuine storytelling.
Casting and Performance
Amidst a flimsy script, the performances by the actors offer a glimmer of hope. Sergey Bezrukov seamlessly fits into the role of a charismatic lawyer, though there are moments when he overacts during scenes of spiritual revelations. Olga Lerman, portraying Maria Demidova, brings an essential dramatic flair to the table, yet she falls short of providing the charisma necessary to make the character memorable. Contrastingly, Nikolai Shraiber skillfully compensates for her deficiencies, delivering a vivid portrayal of a deranged husband with considerable expression.
Igor Gordin, who plays Pobedonostsev, utilizes his theatrical background to inject depth into the role. Yet his character suffers from the absurdities presented in the script. Overall, the casting aligns with the project's overall quality: competent, yet lacking refinement.
Visual and Technical Execution
Despite narrative mishaps, the visual aspects of the series deserve commendation. The costumes, set designs, and cinematography create a visually pleasing environment that, while failing to immerse viewers in an authentic 19th-century experience, still appeals aesthetically. The series is rife with stylish flashbacks that, at times, veer into the territory of excessive theatricality. The only major drawback lies in the sluggish pacing of scenes, reminiscent of theatrical performances devoid of cinematic energy.
Endings and Insights
At its core, "Plevako" epitomizes a typical product of modern Russian television, teetering between parody and the earnest pursuit of greatness. The creators seem determined to cater to everyone: historical drama aficionados, action-thriller enthusiasts, and fans of light absurdism. The result is an eclectic venture that simultaneously incites laughter, frustration, and curiosity.
Is it worth watching? If you're willing to overlook plot inconsistencies and historical inaccuracies, "Plevako" can provide decently entertaining fare. However, expecting depth or historical accuracy would be a folly. Instead, this production comes off as more of an amusement ride than a serious composition, and perhaps that is where its true value lies.