THE STORY – The Russian author Fyodor Dostoevsky is renowned as one of the greatest writers and most influential thinkers of his time. However, behind the monolithic image of the literary giant is a lesser-known story and next to the man through his most tumultuous times was the wife who supported him.
THE CAST – Aimee Lou Wood, Johnny Flynn, Vicky Krieps & Christian Friedel
THE TEAM – Małgorzata Szumowska & Michał Englert (Directors/Writers), Kasper Bajon & Brid Arnstein (Writers)
THE RUNNING TIME – 118 Minutes
Fyodor Dostoevsky is, of course, regarded as one of the greatest novelists of all time, having penned works like “Crime and Punishment” and “The Idiot,” which became hugely influential for decades to come. “The Idiot,” in particular, challenged conventional ideas about structure and the nature of a protagonist. But you might not know that after having watched Małgorzata Szumowska and Michał Englert’s feature “The Idiot(s).” This film tells the wild story of how Fyodor and Anna Dostoevsky brought this novel to life under the most difficult circumstances, but it offers none of the cliché biopic moments, taking a decidedly sillier approach to depicting their struggles. As admirable as it is to push up against convention, very little of their approach lands here, neither giving viewers a believable picture of Dostoevsky’s life nor commenting on what led to one of the greatest novels of all time. What we get instead is an absurd, confused, repetitive film that offers little to compel the audience to stay along for the ride.
Johnny Flynn and Aimee Lou Wood portray Fyodor and Anna Dostoevsky in the years leading up to the publication of “The Idiot.” Despite the success Dostoevsky had found with “Crime and Punishment,” the writer was deeply in debt after it came out. And so, the couple fled to Switzerland, intending to live a lavish lifestyle, relax, and write the great Russian novel (“Tolstoy’s gonna shit himself”). Unfortunately, Fyodor’s vices get the better of him instead. Rather than spending his days writing the novel, he alternates between gambling away every penny they have and pursuing a flirtatious relationship with Natasha (Vicky Krieps). Anna begs him to focus and write, knowing they owe the publisher pages to get paid, but Fyodor simply can’t overcome his own ineptitude. Thankfully she’s able to take matters into her own hands, writing a great deal of the novel herself.
Success emboldens Dostoevsky to indulge his desires, which counterintuitively makes it harder for him to write from an honest place. Fyodor heads to the casino to bet on roulette (he has a system, you see), winning occasionally, but largely losing everything. He says, “God told me that the only way I can write ‘The Idiot’ is by playing roulette.” Nearly right from the beginning, the film devolves into a frustrating, repetitive cycle. Yes, this is a treatise on writer’s block in a sense. But that point is buried in the background of this film, which instead cycles through gambling and losing over and over again ad nauseam. The Fyodor Dostoevsky depicted in “The Idiot(s)” is craven, foolish, and driven only by his carnal desires. He’s also a foot fetishist, groveling at Anna’s feet and begging her to step on him as he pleasures himself, so… that’s something.
Clearly, “The Idiot(s)” has its feet planted firmly in the absurd. It treats Dostoevsky’s gambling addiction as tragicomedy, rather than something more serious. Anna repeatedly has dreams of her husband being executed in a gruesome and public fashion as her frustration grows. Szumowska and Englert fill the film with anachronisms, like A-ha’s 1985 hit “Take On Me” playing repeatedly throughout. This tone extends to the film’s visual language as well, with Englert’s droll cinematography using zooms and wide angles to create a pale imitation of Wes Anderson’s signature style. The mishmash of this imagery and the strangely goofy tone never feels like a fit for this largely sad story. The excellent costumes and production design, however, make up for much of it.
Though Flynn and Wood give it their all, the rest of the film doesn’t live up to their solid performances. Though the filmmakers seem to want viewers to wait with bated breath for Fyodor’s masterpiece to be written, “The Idiot(s)” lacks the suspense of getting it written. These characters, or at least Fyodor in particular, don’t seem all that invested in getting the book written. While Anna does, it’s not because she’s all that invested in “The Idiot,” but more because she doesn’t want to be destitute. By taking this silly, repetitive approach, it robs the viewer of any tension or anticipation, leaving us more ready for the journey to be done than for the characters to succeed.
Now, perhaps those who have a deeper connection to “The Idiot” will get more out of “The Idiot(s),” as references to the novel’s content abound. But without a compelling reason to put up with Fyodor’s self-destructive cycles, there’s little to invest in. It’s unfortunately not funny enough to make up for that lack of suspense, either. What’s left is a tonally confused, dull tragicomedy that never comes close to living up to its potential.
