The devil himself visits the Soviet Union, that’s the short synopsis of Michail Bulgakow’s cult novel. Written in the late 1920s, this is not the first adaptation of this classic of Russian world literature. But the timing couldn’t be more volatile. The mixture of satire and fantasy is made with maximum opulence and is already considered one of the most expensive and successful films in Russian history – even though it’s an underground text that has remained censored for a long time because of its criticism against the totalitarian state apparatus.

So is this elaborate film adaptation a reading aid for all those who have read THE MASTER AND MARGARITA a long time ago or have never read it before? When the devil first appears as the mysterious foreigner Woland (August Diehl) it briefly seems as though the every single furious word from the original will be included. But then it becomes clear that the fictional genesis of the novel is at the center here: the master in the title, an esteemed writer, has just found out that his play about Pontius Pilate contains too many Jesus references for the deeply atheistic Soviet Union and will be canceled before its premiere. Inspired by his muse and lover Margarita, he begins writing a novel about the devilish goings-on in Moscow—even though state censorship and punishment are inevitable.

In old Hollywood tradition, the love story between the Master and Margarita (convincing: Evgenii Tsyganov and Yuliya Snigir, also a couple in real life) holds all the narrative threads together. The film interweaves the content of the novel with the external, increasingly more grotesque political conditions. You learn a lot about the Soviet Union of the 1930ss; a musical proclaims that at their 100th anniversary in the year 2022, they will rule over all countries in the world. Especially in the current geopolitical situation, this repeatedly creates moments of real horror, amidst artfully rolling heads and lasciviously elegant costumes like something out of a Klimt painting. These, in turn, ensures that at times it feels like you’re a magical parallel world – rather than in an Orwellian surveillance state.

The motif of censorship of cultural workers could have a stronger connection to Putin’s Russia and the technocracy of today. In the end, both US-Russian director Michael Lockshin and Ukrainian-Russian satirist Mikhail Bulgakov were able to get on with their artistic tricks. It remains to be seen how Russia will deal with the films’ unexpected commercial success and the resulting shit storm in the long term.

Anna Hantelmann (INDIEKINO MAGAZIN)

Translation: Elinor Lewy