One year after the events of Major Grom: Plague Doctor, police major Igor Grom finds himself celebrated as a city savior. He basks in the mirror of a flawless personal life and a growing professional prowess, convinced that happiness has finally settled in. Yet the calm cracks when a shadowy bomber targets him, demanding that Grom leave the force. The threat grows sharper as explosions threaten his loved ones, including journalist Yulia Pchelkina and her partner Dima Dubin, alongside the city’s own chief of police, Fedor Prokopenko. A leading suspect is arms magnate August van der Holt, while the Ministry of Internal Affairs unveils a reform plan to deploy drones for security forces under Deputy Chief Maria Arkhipova. As tension mounts, the weight of a changing era presses in on Grom and those around him.
Just over three years have passed since Plague Doctor introduced Bubble Comics’ Major Thunder on the big screen. The franchise has evolved with Thunder: A Hard Childhood, a candid look at the hero’s rough ’90s beginnings, and now a direct sequel titled The Game. It is clear the writers listened to fan critique after Plague Doctor and chose to pivot, embracing a more nuanced tone and a broader emotional range rather than reiterating the same formula.
The setting itself has shifted. The city around the heroes feels sharper, more honest, and oddly more approachable. It resembles a real, functioning St. Petersburg rather than a glossy blend borrowed from American blockbuster aesthetics. The familiar circus on Fontanka anchors the locale, and the visual jokes about Grom’s inner thoughts have tightened into a tighter, more purposeful narrative. The film nods to Raimi’s Spider-Man lineage in places, though it keeps its own rhythm and texture. The energy is different, and it works—there’s a sense of purposeful filmmaking that trims excess and leans into character chemistry and plot momentum.
Oleg Trofim’s directorial voice becomes evident in The Game. The movie balances entertainment with thoughtful moments, standing up to contemporary cinematic ambitions without losing the core charm of its origin. There are playful references, including a wink to A Clockwork Orange, and the broader shift in the Bubble Comics cinematic universe is evident. The soundtrack and on-screen cameos reflect a culture that isn’t afraid to reference its past, while still pushing forward. It signals that Trofim’s upcoming projects may bring even stronger storytelling, with changes in tone serving as a barometer for the era’s tastes. The film also weaves in musical interludes that hint at cultural conversations, including performances by notable artists from the region’s music scene.
What stands out is how the tonal shift affects the core message of Thunder. At first glance the movie reads like a modern action thriller, but it quickly shifts toward something more reflective, almost Nolan-esque in its ambition to explore protection, justice, and the moral complexities of force. The city becomes a canvas for questions about surveillance, power, and the consequences of security measures. Drones hover over streets, public spaces grow tense, and the narrative asks whether victory can come without collateral damage. Movements from brute force to restraint and from certainty to doubt are traced with deliberate care, inviting viewers to weigh means against ends. The era becomes a test of mercy within the Bubble Comics universe, presenting Igor Grom as a figure who straddles old-school grit and a more modern, uneasy conscience. Critics sense that Trofim is aiming for something deeper, perhaps even earning awards for a nuanced, character-driven finale.
The project remains a milestone in a broader discussion about adapting popular comics for cinema. It balances the charm of its roots with a willingness to challenge expectations, offering a cinematic experience that feels contemporary without losing its sense of identity. The performances anchor the film, supported by a cast that delivers both adrenaline and heart. As the story unfolds, the audience is drawn into a city that feels alive, flawed, and human—an environment where the line between heroism and responsibility is constantly renegotiated.
The film’s craftsmanship, from pacing to visual storytelling, shows a director confident in his evolving vision. The Game is not merely a continuation; it is a statement about growth, risk, and the power of adaptation within a beloved universe. It invites audiences to reassess what they expect from superhero cinema and to consider how a city, and its protector, can grow with the times. Critics and fans alike may find themselves revisiting the film once the credits roll, weighing its choices against the earlier installments and the larger arc of the franchise. In this sense, The Game stands as a pivotal moment for the series, a testament to the idea that evolution can enhance rather than erode a narrative core.
Casting highlights include Tikhon Zhiznevsky, Lyubov Aksenova, Alexander Seteykin, Alexey Maklakov, Sergey Goroshko, Dmitry Chebotarev, Konstantin Khabensky, delivering performances that fuse grit, wit, and humanity.