Navalny. (12A.)
Directed by Daniel Roher.
Starring Alexei Navalny, Julia Navalny, Christo Grozev, Maria Pevchikh and Dasha Navalny. Partly subtitled. Screening in Curzon cinemas on 12th April for a special one-day event with director Q&A, followed by a UK wide release. 98 mins
That’s Navalny as in Alexei, the imprisoned Russian opposition leader who narrowly survived an assassination attempt. You’ll remember the 2020 story of him being taken ill on a plane, the Russian doctors denying he was a victim of Novichok poisoning and refusing his family and supporters' attempts to have him removed from the hospital until eventually he was flown to Germany.
The title suggests a study of the man but the film is a record of events, starting from his attempted murder, the extraordinary investigation into it by journalist Christo Grozev that uncovered the identities of a specialist Novichok state assassination squad group and finally his return to Russia where he was immediately arrested. Navalny is a perfect documentary in that it doesn’t miss a thing. Roher’s film crew had access to everything. Navalny is very social media savvy, all over Youtube and Tiktok; he and his family live their lives surrounded by cameras. The film's most remarkable moment is basically a prank: Navalny phoning one of his would-be killers.
Navalny is a hulking charismatic figure, a man accustomed to being the centre of attention: part Ivan Drago, part Tim Lovejoy. Clearly, he is brave, committed, telegenic and fiercely patriotic, but beyond that, the film tells us nothing. In one conversation his advisor Maria Pevchikh asks him if he is irritated about all the questions about his past in the interview with the director, but the film reveals almost nothing about his past. We learn he was a lawyer and that his father lived near Chernobyl during the disaster. The subject of him sharing a platform with fascistic figures early in his career is briefly raised. There is nothing though on how he got into politics or, more crucially, what his beliefs are. He defines himself solely by his opposition to Putin and his corruption.
It’s a deeply depressing film, and not just because of the brutishness of Putin’s regime. That “a Bulgarian nerd with a laptop” (Grozev) working from Germany can identify the members of a state-sponsored Russian Novichok hit squad hammers home just how meaningless privacy is now. Most of all, there is the suspicion that despite the 360-degree access he allows to his and his family's life, this potential saviour of Russian democracy is a totally unknown quantity.
Directed by Daniel Roher.
Starring Alexei Navalny, Julia Navalny, Christo Grozev, Maria Pevchikh and Dasha Navalny. Partly subtitled. Screening in Curzon cinemas on 12th April for a special one-day event with director Q&A, followed by a UK wide release. 98 mins
That’s Navalny as in Alexei, the imprisoned Russian opposition leader who narrowly survived an assassination attempt. You’ll remember the 2020 story of him being taken ill on a plane, the Russian doctors denying he was a victim of Novichok poisoning and refusing his family and supporters' attempts to have him removed from the hospital until eventually he was flown to Germany.
The title suggests a study of the man but the film is a record of events, starting from his attempted murder, the extraordinary investigation into it by journalist Christo Grozev that uncovered the identities of a specialist Novichok state assassination squad group and finally his return to Russia where he was immediately arrested. Navalny is a perfect documentary in that it doesn’t miss a thing. Roher’s film crew had access to everything. Navalny is very social media savvy, all over Youtube and Tiktok; he and his family live their lives surrounded by cameras. The film's most remarkable moment is basically a prank: Navalny phoning one of his would-be killers.
Navalny is a hulking charismatic figure, a man accustomed to being the centre of attention: part Ivan Drago, part Tim Lovejoy. Clearly, he is brave, committed, telegenic and fiercely patriotic, but beyond that, the film tells us nothing. In one conversation his advisor Maria Pevchikh asks him if he is irritated about all the questions about his past in the interview with the director, but the film reveals almost nothing about his past. We learn he was a lawyer and that his father lived near Chernobyl during the disaster. The subject of him sharing a platform with fascistic figures early in his career is briefly raised. There is nothing though on how he got into politics or, more crucially, what his beliefs are. He defines himself solely by his opposition to Putin and his corruption.
It’s a deeply depressing film, and not just because of the brutishness of Putin’s regime. That “a Bulgarian nerd with a laptop” (Grozev) working from Germany can identify the members of a state-sponsored Russian Novichok hit squad hammers home just how meaningless privacy is now. Most of all, there is the suspicion that despite the 360-degree access he allows to his and his family's life, this potential saviour of Russian democracy is a totally unknown quantity.
