Since Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, many actors and filmmakers have left Russia. Streaming services like Netflix, Amazon Prime Video and Disney+ withdrew from the Russian market, while major Hollywood studios halted their theatrical releases. And yet the Russian film industry appears to be booming, writes journalist and writer Svetlana Satchkova. In conversation with a Russian actor, a prominent film critic and other professionals from the Russian film industry, she explores what is behind this renaissance.
Men walk past film posters in a hallway of the Oktyabr cinema in Moscow on March 29, 2022. Photo: Natalia Kolesnikova / AFP / ANP
In 2015, while working for Condé Nast Russia in Moscow, I interviewed a fifteen-year-old actor named Semyon Treskunov. He was about to appear in the movie Ghost alongside Fyodor Bondarchuk, a prominent actor and director. Semyon made a striking impression on me, coming across as preternaturally intelligent and culturally aware; I had no doubt an amazing career was ahead of him.
For a while, this proved true: he worked steadily, and his fame continued to grow. Fast forward to today, and he’s been living in exile in Barcelona for two years, forced to rebuild his life from scratch. Moreover, he’s been labeled a 'foreign agent' by Putin’s regime - a punitive designation meant to complicate the lives of those targeted and potentially carrying the threat of arrest even outside Russia.
Like Treskunov, many filmmakers have left Russia since its invasion of Ukraine. Streaming services like Netflix, Amazon Prime Video, and Disney+ withdrew from the Russian market, while major Hollywood studios halted their theatrical releases. In response, the Russian state pledged its support and increased funding for domestically produced films and series. Putin aims to project an image of stability to the world, demonstrating that the sanctions have had no impact. Despite these efforts, there haven’t been many releases with a clear pro-war message. The few that have appeared were of low quality and failed to make an impact. However, this seems about to change.
Semyon Treskunov in the short film My VR by Ildar Shangaraev, 2021. Photo: Website Festagent
An escape from reality
Zinaida Pronchenko, a prominent Russian film critic and author now living in France, told me in a Zoom conversation, 'I still receive various industry newsletters in my mailbox, and from what I see, about forty percent of films currently in development have a patriotic bent. They are either about the ongoing war or the Second World War. Making a movie takes time, which is why we haven’t yet seen a proliferation of these kinds of films.'
In June 2022, the Voenkino Foundation was set up under the auspices of the Ministry of Defense. Its goal, as stated by its then director Maxim Ksendzov, was to support 'the creation of military-patriotic films and programs and their popularization [...], as well as preserve the memory of the most important events in Russian history, strengthen cultural and historical values, and promote the patriotic education of young people.' What’s happening with the project right now is unclear, as their website is no longer functioning and recent mentions are lacking. Perhaps, as is often the case in Russia, the money was stolen somewhere along the way. What I did find, however, was the seemingly unrelated Voenfilm Studio, which is devoted to producing exactly this kind of content. At present, they are working on several films.
Filmmakers who don’t want to engage in blatant propaganda, much like in Soviet times, have turned to cinema that avoids confronting real life—fairy tales, remakes, sci-fi—in other words, pure entertainment. And viewers are eagerly consuming this content, seeking an escape from the horrific reality.
Producers closely monitor the crew to ensure that no one says anything provocative
What I’ve heard from multiple sources is that during the filming of any project—realistic or otherwise—producers closely monitor the crew to ensure that no one says anything provocative on social media or elsewhere. If someone does, they must be immediately removed, and if it’s an actor, all scenes involving this actor have to be reshot, as their continued association with the project could jeopardize it.
Funding the Russian film industry
Over the last two decades, the Russian film industry has continued to rely heavily on state funding, much like during Soviet times. It is estimated that for most films, 70 to 90 percent of the budget comes from the state. Last year, the government allocated 30 billion rubles to support the industry. Of this amount, 11 billion came from the Ministry of Culture and the Cinema Foundation, while the remainder was provided by the Institute for the Development of the Internet (IRI). Founded in 2014, the IRI has emerged as a significant player in the last two years, often serving as a tool for propaganda. This year, these organizations are expected to have allocated comparable amounts of funding to the industry.
Blacklists
Many individuals have been blacklisted for not supporting Putin’s war effort. The main compiler and keeper of these lists, according to the independent media outlet Meduza, is Sergey Novikov, Head of the Office of the President for Public Projects. Unofficially, he reigns over the cultural sphere, deciding who can continue to work in film and who cannot. Pronchenko believes that his decisions are often influenced by an ongoing power struggle with Nikita Mikhalkov—a figure who warrants a paragraph of his own.
Mikhalkov comes from a family that has always maintained close ties with current regimes. His father, Sergey, was the most famous Soviet poet who authored the Soviet anthem and was a friend of Stalin. Nikita Mikhalkov began his career in the sixties, gaining recognition as a talented actor and director. In 1994, his historical drama Burnt by the Sun, in which he starred, won the Academy Award for Best Foreign Film. It addressed the horrors of totalitarianism, which now seems ironic.
Since Putin’s rise to power in 1999, Mikhalkov has been a steadfast supporter, amassing staggering wealth and unprecedented influence in the film industry. He created his own studio, founded the Moscow Film Festival, and has headed the Union of Cinematographers, the Russian Film Academy, and many other organizations. It is rumored that the current Minister of Culture is his protégé. In recent years, he has become a rabid propagandist, launching his own YouTube show where he rants about the moral bankruptcy of the West and criticizes liberal ideology.
Nikita Mikhalkov in 2017. Photo: Wikimedia Commons.
Mikhalkov is also responsible for the fact that Semyon Treskunov, the actor now living in exile in Barcelona, lost his career. In January 2021, Semyon publicly condemned Alexey Navalny’s illegal arrest. In early February, Mikhalkov criticized him and other actors who supported Navalny on his YouTube show. At just twenty-one, Semyon was the youngest among those mentioned, and he was the only one who responded, asserting his right to express his views.
'Mikhalkov took offense,' Semyon told me over Zoom. 'He was clearly not used to being challenged, especially by someone so young, and reacted in the most unbecoming way for a figure we once regarded as a pillar of culture.'
That spring, Semyon stopped getting work. Then, producers he knew called him to a meeting. 'They told me they had a plan to approach the Administration of the President and ask for forgiveness for actors like me who made an emotional mistake. In exchange, I would have to promise to refrain from discussing social injustice. It was a great temptation, but at that moment, I felt my fate was being decided, and I said no.' He left Russia in April 2022 after marrying his then-girlfriend, Anita.
Career suicide
From the perspective of a Russian actor, leaving Russia when you have a professional reputation there is a desperate act comparable to career suicide. The chances of starting anew in a different language are exceedingly low. Treskunov says his first two years in Spain were extremely difficult, but he is slowly making progress. He has become fluent in both English and Spanish, teaches acting, and has directed and starred in several short films. He appeared in Kirill Serebrennikov’s film about Josef Mengele and traveled to Armenia with a play.
However, being labeled a 'foreign agent' by the Russian state for publicly condemning the war has led to fines for neglecting the duties of a foreign agent and could result in a criminal case against him. 'If that happens,' Semyon said, 'I won’t be able to earn money from this play while touring the CIS countries. Moreover, I could be detained in one of these countries and extradited to Russia, or even arrested by Interpol.'
Many actors found themselves blacklisted because they hadn’t realized that, on February 24, 2022, the rules changed
Unlike Semyon, who made a deliberate choice to prioritize his ability to express his political views over his career, many of his colleagues found themselves blacklisted because they hadn’t realized that, on February 24, 2022, the rules changed. Before that date, Putin’s regime had allowed some degree of dissent, which explains why some individuals posted a black square on Instagram or signed anti-war petitions in the early days of the invasion. 'They couldn’t imagine that everything would change in an instant,' Pronchenko says. 'If they’d known this, they never would have done it.'
Delicate balancing act
As of today, some actors are navigating a delicate balancing act, working on films with both Western and Russian directors. Yura Borisov and Mark Edelstein, for instance, star in Sean Baker’s Anora, which recently won the Palme d’Or at Cannes. The film, being American and centered around a sex worker, does not align with the traditional values promoted by the Russian state. Both actors have attended premieres of the film in Europe and the United States, where no one thought to ask them any uncomfortable questions, and continue to work in Russia.
Semyon Treskunov, who dubbed Anora in Spanish, believes that many of his colleagues in Russia live under the illusion that the war will eventually end and everything will return to normal, that they won’t have to pay for what they’ve done. 'They’re making bigger and bigger compromises with the regime, and even when there’s still a possibility to preserve their agency and remnants of dignity, they reject it. They travel to the Donbass and other occupied territories, for example, when they could refuse to do so.'
Russian actors Mark Eidelstein (L), Daria Ekamasova and Yuriy Borisov (R) attend Beyond Fest's West Coast premiere of 'Anora' at the Vista theatre in Los Angeles, October 1, 2024. Photo: Valerie Macon / AFP / ANP
Directing outside of Russia
To find out what happened to filmmakers who left Russia after the invasion, I spoke with a Los Angeles-based industry source who requested anonymity. Some Russian directors, it appears, have made significant progress in Hollywood. Egor Abramenko recently finished shooting a project for A24, 'which is big and what everyone dreams of but rarely achieves.' Kirill Sokolov, another young director, is involved in several major projects in the U.S. 'It’s definitely easier for genre directors like Sokolov, who specialize in thriller and horror,' my source noted. 'It’s more challenging for those focused on arthouse cinema.'
It’s easier for directors who specialize in thriller and horror than for those focused on arthouse cinema
There is also a difference in work timelines. In the Russian film business, everything moves quickly, while in the American industry, progress can feel painfully slow. There has always been less gatekeeping in Russia, making it much easier for directors or screenwriters to debut with a feature film. In America, however, the competition is brutal, and the path is much harder. 'You have to take more steps, and you can’t skip any of them,' my source said. 'This is why some people struggle to adjust their expectations and end up breaking down.'
A unique model
Returning to the question of the so-called boom in Russian cinema, everyone I spoke with agreed that it’s hard to determine whether any of its products are commercially viable. While there are exceptions like Cheburashka, a genuine commercial hit, the industry as a whole has never been profitable. What outsiders often fail to grasp is that the Russian film industry operates on a unique model: producers make their money before the films even hit theaters. This essentially means they steal part of the budget, which may explain why many Russian films tend to be of low quality. After all, if box office success isn’t required, what incentive is there to make a good movie?
In terms of activity and work, the industry is undoubtedly experiencing a renaissance, though. Moscow, long considered a land of opportunity, now offers even more chances for advancement for those who agree to play by the Kremlin's rules. Actresses who previously couldn’t land leading roles are now playing them, and mediocre directors who once couldn’t dream of making features are getting the chance—largely because many colleagues have left or been blacklisted. These new directors often show no hesitation in producing propagandistic films.
Moscow is a land of opportunity for those who agree to play by the Kremlin's rules
'There are people who will do anything for money, but I believe very few genuinely share Putin’s ideology,' my LA-based source said. 'Many with decent views are careful to avoid getting involved in patriotic nonsense. However, the opportunities available to them will continue to decrease.'
Semyon Treskunov is convinced that those who compromised their integrity will ultimately pay the price. 'They will either face material consequences, like paying reparations after Russia loses the war, or, in case of a different scenario, those consequences may be metaphysical. We can avoid facing uncomfortable truths, but our subconscious will haunt us. These individuals may not even realize they are experiencing their comeuppance when it occurs, but it will happen anyway. This is particularly true for those with a platform. Public figures bear much greater responsibility than the average person. If you promote only the values of personal comfort and career, you will have to answer for it someday.'
