Mr. Nobody Against Putin
(Denmark/Czech Republic, 90 min.)
Dir. David Borenstein, Pavel Talankin
Programme: World Cinema Documentary Competition (World premiere)
We have seen dozens of documentaries come out of Ukraine since the most recent Russian invasion almost three years ago, but far too few films have showcased life within the borders of Putin’s country outside the filter of state-controlled propaganda. Even when they do, these stories are often met with consternation from the Ukrainian camp, feeling (in somewhat justified fashion, given the current regime in the U.S.) that any film that in any way diminishes the horrors or humanizes the conflict in a both-sides sort of way can be existentially detrimental to the victims of barbarism.
Few are likely to find fault with David Borenstein’s Mr. Nobody Against Putin, given its highly sympathetic subject and what it manages to present. In following Pasha Talankin, a young teacher in central Russia who documents the encroaching militarization of his school, we are granted a rare and revealing look at life under Putin’s propaganda and the bravery of those who wish to bring that story to the world.
Pasha, the titular “Mr. Nobody” given his paltry position against the rising tide of authoritarianism, lives and teaches in Karabash, a grim mining town set in the Ural mountains that’s often gleefully portrayed by foreigners shooting YouTube videos as the most bleak place in the world. Beyond the toxic waste piles and Soviet-era edifices, there’s a thriving community of citizens who call it home. Through a series of delightfully sardonic clips, Pasha shows us the hidden beauty of the region, particularly with regards to the sense of community he’s able to capture as the school’s in-house cinematographer.
Pasha makes his classroom a safe space, a kind of clubhouse for the nerdy kids who find respite from the toils of adolescence endemic no matter where one grows up. Not much older than those under his tutelage, there’s a clear dynamic of the kind of favourite teacher who made deep connections with their students that many of us were privileged to have experienced.
Pasha’s footage changes significantly when the invasion occurs in February, 2022. Prior, the addition of the Russian Democracy flag tacked to the wall of his classroom was slightly provocative, no different than the kind of youthful rebellion that music or fashion taste connotes. Yet as the war messaging coming out from Moscow slowly headed east, this almost playful sense of provocation takes on a more strident stance with the increasingly sinister state-run indoctrination of the students and shifts in curricula.
At one point, Pasha decides that enough is enough, and his clearly liberal views were already making him a target for those wishing for conformity. Yet he wisely (and bravely) decided it better to stay and actually document these changes, all in the hopes of one day bringing the lives of those under his tutelage to the world and to grant an unvarnished look behind this new iron curtain.
The result is an engaging, enlightening look at life in Karabash. Thanks to Pasha’s narration, swinging effortlessly between blackly comic and enraged, we glimpse with great clarity the forces shifting the school setup in real time. Beyond these dramatic images of marching students and patriotic anthems are other, slightly more quotidian moments that still feel somewhat surreal. As Pasha brings flowers to his mother, one can see her own consternation about her son’s behaviour, her own life honed by Soviet oppression and cautiousness to not poke one’s head up lest it be the one chopped down. We hear from various teachers as they swallow their disgust (and pride) and read out verbatim missives from Moscow declaring all is well in the military campaign, bringing glory to a Russia under the firm hand of Putin.
Other moments are far darker. There’s a visit from members of the Wagner group showing off the tools of war, months before the leader of that same organization was assassinated after a failed attempt to disrupt Putin’s stranglehold on power. Then there’s a teacher of history that seems gleefully excited to be amplifying elements of the past. When asked by Pasha on camera to name people in history he’d love to connect with, he names some of the most abhorrent butchers of Stalin’s murderous regime.
Since Mr. Nobody Against Putin begins with Pasha making an escape with all his footage, there is a retroactive sense what we’re seeing being captured is itself a bold political move, as the seemingly easiest thing would be to conform to what’s expected. It’s difficult to know what the students who are captured on screen will think of the film, and the ramifications of this international premiere may have unexpected consequences for those who readily provided their perspectives to their mentor and teacher.
Still, the film manages to go beyond mere polemic. It brings us inside this community with rare sensitivity and care. Borenstein does well to keep the film on target, but this is obviously Pasha’s story to be told, and his footage and perspective drives the entirety of interest. The result is an absolutely stellar look at how much a country at war, particularly one like Russia given both its vast territory and vast history of conflicts, can be reshaped away from the front line. This is a brilliant film, accessible yet profound, and already easily one of the best of the year. It’s sure to generate conversation well outside Pasha’s toxic yet paradoxically wonderful home town.
