Deux procureurs

The film Two Prosecutors is, from my point of view, a masterpiece. The screenplay, the directing, the cinematography, the acting - everything leads to this conclusion. Moreover, this adaptation is a moral film. I do not believe in the amorality of art. This film, perfectly directed, acted, and shot, is also extremely relevant today, in a time when the leaders of the world's great powers are destroying civil society, just as Stalin did.

The most remarkable thing about this film is that, although its pace is extremely slow, the film is not boring. You don't have time to look at your mobile phone while the film is playing, despite the fact that everything unfolds very slowly. This speaks to the genius of director Sergey Loznitsa (who is also the screenwriter) and to the skill of the cinematographer (Oleg Mutu).

Amid the terror of Stalin's Great Purge, a young prosecutor risks everything in his efforts to defend the prisoners in 1937 against fear and oppression where justice has lost its meaning. Ukrainian director Sergey Loznitsa, known for his unflinching portrayals of totalitarian history, adapts Two Prosecutors (Zwei Staatsanwälte) from Soviet writer Grigory Demidov's autobiographical novel, continuing his tradition of incisive, politically charged cinema.

Demidov himself was sent to the Kolyma labor camps in 1937, enduring years of imprisonment in the Gulag system, while his works remained buried under Soviet censorship. Through this adaptation, Loznitsa exposes the destructive power of bureaucracy over the concept of justice - a force that, under Stalin, became synonymous with oppression.

Like much of Loznitsa's work, Two Prosecutors delves deeply into the moral and psychological toll of living under a totalitarian regime. The film dissects how the judicial system, once meant to protect, turns into an obedient instrument of authority - a mirror reflecting the corruption of power. With austere compositions and haunting stillness, Loznitsa captures the collapse of conscience within a system that rewards silence over truth.

Rendered in stark gray-blue tones, the film envelops the viewer in an atmosphere of suffocation with Its long, static shots evoking the paralysis of a society. As the narrative unfolds, the futility of seeking justice becomes painfully clear - for in this world, even the purest intentions are crushed under the weight of fear and ideology.

My grade would be solid 8 for Loznitsa's work.

Though I haven't read the original novel, I can imagine how it would describe emotional shifts -- either explicitly or metaphorically -- manipulating the reader's unrealistic expectations before delivering an abrupt, striking conclusion. In the film, however, all that remains are dull, tedious, hollow, and flavourless shot/reverse shot. The inherent strengths of novel as a form, are not cleverly compensated for by the strengths of cinema as another form; the adaptation is purely a diminishing return. Everything -- the scenery, the lighting, the colours, the dialogue -- is utterly mundane. Tossing this material to a review channel to be spun into an exaggerated 'Conspiracy! Twist!' video might even be better than the original film itself. It's simply mundane.

I saw this film at the AFI Film Festival in Hollywood. From Slovakia, this drama takes place in the USSR of 1937, when a young prosecutor tries to investigate abuse of a loyal party member, who has been unfairly imprisoned. Period recreations of the USSR at the time are very good along with atmosphere of despair that pervaded Russia that the time. A tense drama, but with a predictable conclusion that I saw coming from a mile away. 6/10.

Sergey Loznitsa's film offers a restrained yet deeply unsettling portrait of the Stalinist repressive apparatus. By following a young, idealistic prosecutor, the story reveals how an authoritarian system inevitably consumes even its most loyal believers. Loznitsa's unexpectedly classical direction, combined with a rhythm that often resembles a political thriller, creates an atmosphere of constant tension and claustrophobia. Every scene exposes the paranoid logic of a regime that turns suspicion into guilt and loyalty into vulnerability. It's a concise, harsh, and sharply crafted film-one that leaves the viewer with a sense of helplessness, but also with a renewed awareness of how easily unchecked power can destroy those who uphold it.