Onegin: A Critical Take on an Ambitious Adaptation
The review presents a blunt judgment: Onegin fails to deserve originality, and some colleagues lean toward poetic bravado instead of honest assessment. The critique centers on the film’s autumn reveal of the cast, led by director Sarik Andreasyan, whose approach raises eyebrows about adherence to traditional standards. The author admits to delaying the piece until March to verify concerns, and those concerns were affirmed.
Every frame signals a fundamental misreading of Alexander Pushkin’s text. It goes beyond the scholarly interpretations of researchers like Yuri Lotman and into a straightforward misalignment with the novel’s core meanings. The story spans years, yet the protagonist Eugene Onegin is not yet thirty at the finale, so the events are interpreted through the lens of youth rather than aging flaws. Viktor Dobronravov, who portrays Onegin, will turn 41 soon after the film’s release, and the performance renders the hero as a natural sociopath capable of sudden violence. Dobronravov previously played Onegin in a Tuminas production, years ago, showing early signs of tension with the role. Elizaveta Moryak, cast as Tatiana, also doesn’t resemble a seventeen or eighteen-year-old, though she deftly blends into the older appearance crafted by Dobronravov’s gray-haired persona.
The film’s psychedelia grows as the narrative follows Pushkin’s letters with the exactness of a diligent student recalling a textbook, even when in several moments Vladimir Vdovichenkov appears to read as the author within the text itself. The director describes this approach as a principled choice, insisting that what was once twenty-five years ago now corresponds to today’s forty years.
In the realm of auteur cinema, the possibility exists that thirty-nine-year-old Andreasyan participates through the lens of Dobronravov’s Onegin. Cinematographer Kirill Zotkin’s camera occasionally lingers on a figure who seems to be married to the director, a detail that produces awkward humor and raises questions about intention. A Onegin framed as fan fiction, conceived as a gift to a spouse, is permissible as an idea, yet the ongoing presentation leaves viewers unsure about the moral weight of the sins depicted.
One might point viewers toward Mike Flanagan’s work for guidance on successfully translating another writer’s text to the screen. The issue is not that the Andreasyan brothers watched too few good films but that they fail to recapture their energy. The film makes bold references to The Great Gatsby and to Baz Luhrmann’s dazzling style, yet the result feels more like overreaching imitation than a fresh interpretation. The love letters in the film drift between neighboring properties as if echoing the emotional intensity of 1917, while the director terms it an emotional action.
There is a minor commendation: the choice to include subtitles instead of drowning dialogue in voiceovers. Yet the subtitles themselves carry errors, a rare misstep from a film that otherwise aims to stay honest to the source material. The runtime stretches to two and a half hours, a pace that seems deliberate given Pushkin’s own description of Eugene Onegin as a collection of episodic moments that could each stand alone as a potential finale. This serial sensibility is acknowledged, yet the execution remains contentious.
In discussions about bad adaptations, fans often fear another installment might not arrive. Onegin, as presented here, feels hollow and likely to fade from public memory within months. The paradox lies in recognizing Andreasyan as a filmmaker suited to bringing Eugene Onegin to the screen while the final product proves unfulfilling. The sense of wasted effort lingers, though the director’s name may not endure on the final aftermath.
Release details include a debut in Russia on March 7, 2024, and a total runtime of 141 minutes. The creative team lists Sarik Andreasyan as the director and a cast that includes Viktor Dobronravov, Denis Prytkov, Lisa Moryak, Tanya Sabinova, Alena Khmelnitskaya, and Vladimir Vdovichenkov. The film’s presentation remains exclusively in cinemas, inviting audiences to judge its interpretation in a traditional viewing setting.