‘The Idiot(s)’ Review: An Irreverent Dostoevsky Biopic

As biographical films on major historical figures go, “The Idiot(s)” starts off with an advantage over most, since it covers only a finite, conflict-laden passage of its subject’s storied life. This enjoyably off-kilter dramedy then further ingratiates itself with viewers bored of traditionalist hagiographies, because it also functions as a biting exercise in separating the art from the artist.

That’s not precisely with the intention of justifying one’s enjoyment of a creator’s body of work despite their unsavory personal past; on the contrary, the hope is that even as the less flattering characteristics of seminal Russian author Fyodor Dostoevsky are exposed, one can still find value in his perspective. The image of the bearded wise man behind literary landmarks that dissect the human condition is exchanged for that of a wretched gambler, a drunken fool drowning in his childish arrogance, thus deliberately detaching him from the grandeur of his oeuvre.

Here he’s closer to some of his doomed characters than to the polished mirage of intellectual depth on painted portraits and photographs. This Dostoevsky (Johnny Flynn)—made of flesh, blood, vomit and other impolite bodily fluids — and his much younger wife Anna (Aimee Lou Wood) have arrived in Germany on their honeymoon. The famed he accrued with “Crime and Punishment” follows him, yet the pompousness of Western Europe disgusts Fyodor, an insufferably proud Russian. Early on in the film, he out-Russians his compatriot and fellow scribe Ivan Turgeniev (Christian Friedel, “The Zone of Interest”) in an impromptu dance off. The cowardly, devious Turgeniev has assimilated to the comforts of the West —that alone is enough for Fyodor to detest him.

That “The Idiot(s)” is the work of Polish filmmakers Małgorzata Szumowska and Michał Englert, once a married couple whose personal and professional lives have long been intertwined, makes sense of their fashioning the narrative as a two-hander where Anna carries as much dramatic weight as Fyodor, if not more. The filmmaking duo, whose previous collaborations include “Never Gonna Snow Again” and “Infinite Storm,” largely based their tale on Andrew D. Kaufman’s novel “The Gambler Wife: A True Story of Love, Risk and the Woman Who Saved Dostoyevsky.”

Throughout the financial troubles that the couple face given Fyodor’s inability to deliver pages, Szumowska and Englert feature scatological humor that further dissolves any notions of elegance associated with 19^th-century Europe. Instead, “The Idiot(s)” highlights the contrast between the palatial accommodations of the elite and the grimy apartments where Fyodor and Anna must reside while he attempts to complete the manuscript for “The Idiot.” The depravity of the aristocrats in the periphery comes off as deliciously cartoonish, likely because that’s how Fyodor perceives them. One of them in particular, portrayed with vicious snark by Vicky Krieps, revels in the moral decay of her times, thirsting for blood.

When Fyodor is asked by the rich to share a salacious personal anecdote for their entertainment, he takes the opportunity to tell a tale of class and sorrow that transfixes his audience. Not only does he showcase his storytelling prowess but simultaneously unmasks their out-of-touch mentality. In a visceral performance under a prominent beard, Flynn tackles Dostoevsky with an unabashed proclivity for debauchery and a lack of self-control that often render him a puddle of humiliation and desperation. When Fyodor drags himself on the floor, begging for forgiveness or a bit more money to play roulette, the gesture straddles the line between humor and intense discomfort — veering into cringe comedy.

The wonderful Wood, meanwhile, infuses Anna with open-hearted charisma and cleverness, securing the balance in their onscreen relationship. Making backdoor deals to secure they don’t starve and picking up Fyodor’s slack in more ways than one, Wood’s Anna emerges as an unassuming force who seems to put up with more than she should. And yet, when Szumowska and Englert portray Fyodor’s reaction to the couple’s pregnancy, the birth of their child, and a subsequent tragedy, Anna’s adoration for this utterly flawed man almost feels justified.

Anna, the film suggests, admires her husband warts and all, perhaps because there’s an enticing authenticity in all his inadequacies and brutish ways. Theirs is an unconventional romance, where she must accept his belief in suffering and precariousness as the raw material for the pages that she transcribes for him. Amid a duel, a suicide, a nightmare decapitation to punish misogyny, and all manner of rowdy behavior, “The Idiot(s)” holds on to the promise that a new timeless masterwork can be born from a year of madness, so long as one person, Anna, never stops trusting that her partner can do so. She gets all the credit here, deservingly.  

The anachronistic use of A-ha’s “Take on Me” in a pared-down version, minus the electronic beat, is typical of the playfulness with which the filmmakers retell the events. If all that’s come before didn’t assure the viewer that they had no airs of solemn, rigorous fatefulness, the recognition of a timeless track from another period might land as an amusing sonic wink. From our modern vantage point, it’s easy to think of those who defined culture centuries ago as stiff characters in antiquated formal clothing with concerns distant from our own. However, the bold absurdism of “The Idiot(s),” tucked inside an impeccably produced costume drama, demystifies those assumptions; the film makes the case for bringing revered entities down from their pedestal and into the arena of quotidian woes and vices. Their work could be even more revelatory in the aftermath.