Prorok. Istoriya Aleksandra Pushkina

I know how you feel. You hope for the best. You believe it's still possible. That classics are eternal. That genius ignores ages. That giant shoulders will keep humanity high. That creativity, sensitivity, art, beauty and poetry still are part of this world. That the best is yet to come. That beauty is being passed on generation after generation and eventually we will rise to new heights. That in the light of the past the future will be bright and shine across borders and frontiers. That yes, a divine spark will be passed on and on, only to catch fire and enlighten all. And yes, they are and doubtlessly will be.

Just not here.

Let me start by expressing my deep respect to the producer and screenwriters. Yes, the movie is about "Pushkin, our everything" (a phrase deeply embedded in Russian identity.) But that's just the surface.

Prophet tells the story of one of Russia's greatest poets and how he fought to preserve his voice amid imperial censorship and political oppression. The title itself is already a message - not only a reference to Pushkin's famous 1826 poem (The Prophet), but also to his cultural role as someone who saw deeper truths and dared to speak them.

For those unfamiliar with Pushkin's towering significance: he is considered the father of modern Russian literature. His poetry and prose brought the language to life with emotional depth and stylistic brilliance.

But Pushkin was more than a literary figure - he was a thinker, a rebel in spirit, and a perceptive critic of his times. In his youth, he sympathized with revolutionary ideas, which brought him into conflict with the Tsarist regime. Much of his work was censored or published only posthumously (!!!).

The film's title poem, The Prophet, tells of a man who receives divine vision and is commanded to "burn people's hearts with the Word". It's a powerful metaphor: the poet as prophet, called to awaken a sleeping society. This becomes the film's emotional core. We see Pushkin surveilled, silenced, censored - tolerated only so long as he remains safely within the imperial narrative. But he cannot stop writing. The truth burns within him. The film paints him not only as a genius of letters, but as a symbol of resistance - someone shaped, and ultimately broken, by his unshakable need to speak out.

One of the film's strongest themes is the tension between freedom and safety. Pushkin could have written harmless romantic verse like Eugene Onegin and lived securely and in wealth. Instead, he tested the limits, choosing to live in intellectual and emotional peril. The film asks: what does it cost to speak the truth in a country where truth is punished?

And here lies the brilliance - and boldness - of Prophet today. In an era where censorship has returned as a powerful force in Russia, the filmmakers walk a dangerous tightrope. On the surface, they present a patriotic biopic about "Pushkin, our everything." Who could object to that?

But Prophet is not just a film about the 19th century. It's a layered, emotionally resonant work that speaks volumes without ever saying anything outright. The way Pushkin is monitored, isolated, emotionally cornered - these choices are too deliberate, too emotionally precise, to be missed by a sensitive viewer. They echo the experience of many contemporary Russian artists, writers, and journalists. The parallels are striking - and unmistakable.

Like many powerful works born under censorship, Prophet operates on multiple levels. Some viewers will see a beautifully shot historical drama about "our everything". Others will feel something deeper - a quiet but urgent commentary on the human cost of living and creating under authoritarian rule.

I am confident that this layered construction is not accidental. It's a survival strategy - a way to bypass rational defenses and speak directly to the heart. The film's impact is not diminished by what it can't say aloud. In fact, it may be more powerful because of it.

Some will leave thinking they simply watched a story about Pushkin. Others will leave feeling they've just watched a story about today.

Some trivia: The Prophet absolutely broke the Russian box office in 2024.

Yura Borisov is really good here. The one who was nominated for Oscar for Anora.

Maybe something genius happens in the second half, something people praise it for, but I'll never know. My whole group couldn't bear it past the midpoint. It could've been just a simple, dull film, stitched together from screenplay tropes like the smoldering gaze of a mysterious woman and a visit to a fortune teller, blindly copied from Hollywood in the style of a cargo cult. But it's spiced up with cringeworthy musical montages that turn it from merely absurd into downright unbearable. Yura's good, but he's no Pushkin. The Poet falls far short of the director's other works, among them a brilliant fifty-second Reebok ad.

How long have you heard how Pushkin's poetry was studied in schools? What words teachers tell our children that he is a great poet? And it's necessary to know his poetry. The film is declared as 12+. And first of all, I am interested can I watch this film with a teenager. I write responsibly: I can! The one who came up with the idea to put Pushkin's poems to rap, to put Pushkin's poems to modern music, to rhythm, to add something is close to a modern child - that one came up with a very good idea. An idea that makes Pushkin closer to today and to our children. And this means that Pushkin can be appropriated, Pushkin can be lived. And then he imperceptibly becomes one of us and firmly enters life. The film asks many correct questions (who has ears, let him hear). For example: what would you do in this or that situation? The film sounds many correct phrases. For example: a good friend is worth his weight in gold. I 8/10 recommend the film to my - and all - modern teenagers. Very god work! In Russia, the film can be seen in cinemas with the Pushkin Card.