Lech, once a police sniper haunted by PTSD, is depicted in a bleak outback scenario where drink loosens his defenses and he clumsily vents at local homeless people, pouring vodka into a fuel barrel for several minutes. Emerging from a deep personal tunnel, his sister Katya intervenes, giving him a stark ultimatum: move to Moscow immediately and reinvent himself, or accept that they may never meet again.
Katya’s concern goes beyond ordinary sibling worry. She battles a fatal heart condition and has little to live for, with no close relatives besides Lekha. The eight-year-old daughter Vasilisa, cared for by Lekha, anchors her world. Lekha’s scramble for work leads him into a Moscow anti-crime unit’s pursuit of elusive goblin raiders who wear invisible hats. Desperate, the team consults a silver plate that recalls Lekha’s past actions, pulling him into a new realm. He must become a devoted uncle who tells bedtime stories while confronting fairy-tale adversaries in real life.
Russian cinema has long reimagined classic folktales on a grand scale, from The Last Hero to The Little Humpbacked Horse. This momentum persisted after the departure of Western studios. Recent releases like On Your Command and Baba Yaga Saves the World drew audiences, while new installments of a beloved cartoon and the enduring popularity of Cheburashka signal the genre’s ongoing appeal, even as it borrows from traditional folk roots.
Many of these projects follow a familiar path, leveraging a formula that has proven lucrative in children’s and family entertainment. With major players stepping back from an oversaturated market, even the character Ivan the Fool might seem ready to reappear in this space. Yet the trend risks stagnation as it leans on familiar tropes without injecting fresh ideas, gradually narrowing the field for new storytelling instead of expanding it.
Marvel-style cinema faced similar growing pains. After years of cookie-cutter superhero films, studios confronted a crossroad. Some chose to embrace serious drama like Joker, others leaned into anarchic comedies such as Deadpool. The result was a shift that allowed the genre to broaden its appeal while staying suitable for different age groups, offering experiences that could be enjoyed by adults on their own terms or enjoyed with older children in select settings.
Against this backdrop, The Magic Lot appears as a bold entry in the Russian folktale canon. It adds an adult sensibility to the genre while keeping the charm of familiar characters. Baba Yaga remains a presence, but she is reimagined as a modern webcam-centric figure who navigates the dark web with a wink. The rejuvenating apple still crops up, this time triggering unintended transformations and occasional mischief. Gorynych the Dragon appears reinterpreted as a male figure with the swagger of a Joker-like character. A notable casting choice brings together talents like Ilya Sobolev, who plays a rough-edged dwarf with surprising depth, hinting at the project’s unexpected tonal range.
The casting proves inspired, anchoring the series with a mix of veteran and contemporary performers. The lineup includes Philip Yankovsky, Tatyana Dogileva with her signature Baba Yaga charisma, Gosha Kutsenko, Daria Melnikova in a fresh pairing with the new generation, Maria Smolnikova, Ida Galich, Pavel Derevianko as the menacing Dragon, Olga Medynich, Nikita Kologrivy, and a broad ensemble that adds texture and energy. This assemblage invites a sense of wonder about folk-tale storytelling reimagined for modern audiences in a way that feels both playful and pointed.
From the first two episodes, the series hints at a police procedural frame where a new villain, such as goblins or the dragon, triggers a crime, and Lekha and his team work to resolve it. The overarching plot unfolds gradually, building to a climactic reveal. Yet the show does not rely solely on a standard formula. It blends caustic humor, some of it touching on sensitive topics, with a measured dose of action that avoids feeling gratuitous.
Ultimately, the project embraces the notion that a fairy tale can carry truth while still entertaining. Unlike other entries in the folk-tale genre that rush toward safe, slow-paced storytelling, The Magic Lot dares to experiment and surprise. There is a palpable sense in the creative community that this approach is exactly what contemporary cinema needs in order to revitalize familiar myths and invite new audiences into the world of folk-inspired storytelling.