Following the success of classic comedies like The Irony of Fate and Ivan Vasilyevich Changes Everything, plans circle for a new year shoot of The Diamond Arm. Rumors hint at a fresh blow that will rival the last, while the public grins at the idea of another big television moment. Ivan Vasilyevich Changes Everything, which moved Kirkorov aside in favor of Kologrivoy, reportedly drew full houses. People wonder if there is truth to the buzz, and many choose to watch to see what unfolds next.
Maybe there is substance to the chatter. It’s a moment audiences should witness. Faith and television seem aligned in the sense that the New Year remains a magnet for viewership. Even the most skeptical viewers flick on their screens during the holidays because the blue glow evokes youth, vitality, and renewed hope. That association feels reassuring to many and, frankly, pretty comforting.
Having nothing to watch on a major channel during the holiday season is not a comfortable prospect. In high-profile TV projects, updates and new takes are common—holiday broadcasts often lean on beloved Soviet films, occasionally interwoven with remakes. Since 2007, when a sequel to Bekmambetov’s The Irony of Fate appeared, the trend has persisted. The roster has grown: Office Romance. Our Time; Gentlemen, Good Luck!; Prisoner of the Caucasus!; Another Year (a remake of Stay With Your Loved Ones); Founders; Green Van; White Dews. Even a remake of Merry Fellows found its way back into rotation.
There is a distinct genre where a director revisits a legendary film years later. Eldar Ryazanov revisits Carnival Night, Alla Surikova returns with The Man from Capuchin Avenue, and Yuliy Gusman offers Don’t Be Afraid, I Am With You. These remakes mark a persistent pattern in the industry, especially around the New Year when audiences expect familiarity and comfort.
To put it plainly, the remake renaissance began in the late 1990s with New Year’s Old Songs About the Main Thing. Since then, some networks re-air covers almost annually. After reviving Soviet songs repeatedly, the trend shifted to retro tunes. The First Channel has explored music from the 1990s and 2000s, even staging New Year’s Eve performances from those eras. A decade later, it aired songs from the 2010s. Audiences listened, though nostalgia did not always land positively. The nostalgia angle revived old memories, some of them painful.
Wikipedia notes that interest in Soviet cinema and its abundance of remakes arises from a crisis of ideas and a sense of nostalgia. Skepticism about nostalgia lingers. Soviet films have dominated television for three decades. Do viewers truly crave rewatching the same scenes while also wanting to see, for instance, the changes a modern filmmaker might bring? They crave fresh, sharp, high-quality work—something equal parts witty and subtle, rather than rehashes of beloved but aging tales.
Yet new productions remain scarce. The result is a programming landscape where remakes fill slots. Some modern biopics about Soviet athletes and popular stories land with guaranteed audiences, thanks to large production teams aiming to draw in viewers, recoup investments, and turn a profit. The market leans toward scale and predictability, even when artistic risk is scarce.
What about television as a whole? The logic often centers on anchoring budget and speed. Studios manage work by relying on familiar faces and reliable teams, pulling them in quickly. The risk becomes monotony—productions may feel rushed, with delays and tension that leave the final product less than inspiring. Casting specialists favor established stars because they know the agents, and contracts are straightforward. Everything feels predictable, almost too neat.
Why settle for the predictable and safe when the goal is a remarkable result? The industry faces pressure to be efficient rather than daring. Television risks becoming disposable, clinging to old formats to avoid waste. This is where seasoned films and classic songs offer solace. The Diamond Arm script may be criticized, but it often outshines whatever might be produced by a newcomer betting on a first attempt. The appeal of a familiar caper remains strong for many viewers and outlets alike.
Many viewers believe that more capable writers could craft better scripts than those behind The Diamond Arm in its original form. Talent exists, yet finding and supporting it is a different challenge. Who will discover, read, and nurture fresh voices? What about the people close to studios who keep working with familiar names? The questions about market, competition, and opportunity persist. If hidden talent remains overlooked, opportunity slips away, and the industry loses momentum.
Competition matters not just as a buzzword but as a driver of quality. It is not solely the state or censorship shaping output; everyday inertia can stifle the best ideas. A recent note suggests hundreds of TV series were produced across Russia in the previous year, with streaming platforms and online cinemas at the forefront. The sheer volume is staggering, and it raises questions about the integrity of the talent pipeline. Is it enough to rely on familiar networks to deliver? The industry must actively seek out and cultivate rising writers, directors, and producers to maintain a healthy, dynamic ecosystem.
Envision a television landscape where thousands of screenwriters, directors, and producers operate in a competitive online arena, while remakes continue to appear on screen. The risk is that the best new voices never get the chance to shine. Without genuine competition, the market could drift toward the familiar, favoring cost-cutting and comfort over originality. The idea of a neural-network-assisted revival of classic Soviet performances looms as a provocative, if controversial, future option. It could be convenient and inexpensive, yet it risks diluting the craft with overreliance on preexisting star power and known names.
Ultimately, the author’s perspective emphasizes the tension between nostalgia and progress, urging a broader, more ambitious approach to storytelling. The belief is that a robust, competitive culture will yield fresher, sharper, and more nuanced work—work that resonates today rather than simply retelling the past. The discussion invites reflection on how to balance reverence for classic cinema with a forward-looking mining of new ideas and real talent.
Note: The author’s opinion reflects a personal stance and does not necessarily represent any official editorial position.