‘Two Prosecutors’ Review: Sergei Loznitsa’s Brooding, Minimalistic Procedural Exposes Soviet Corruption [B+] Cannes
The grim iron gates of a Soviet prison open up as director Sergei Loznitsa begins his exploration of Soviet state repression, told through the lens of a young graduate-turned-prosecutor with a fierce drive for justice. Two Prosecutors marks Loznitsa’s return to fiction, after 2022’s The Kiev Trial and 2024’s The Invasion, and his third entry in Cannes competition.
Set in 1937, during the Great Terror, when Joseph Stalin’s government began purging old Bolsheviks and every politician who dared to oppose him. No mercy or justice was given to anyone, as the Soviet government tore through its people, imprisoning and killing thousands of people under false pretences. This is where Loznitsa’s story is set, adapted from real-life Gulag survivor Georgy Demidov’s novel of the same name. It’s nearly impossible to find a worse time to fight against the Russian bureaucracy, as the NKVD, the People’s Commissariat for Internal Affairs, kept an eye on all citizens and their every movement.
The film starts with an old Bolshevik named Stepniak (Aleksandr Filippenko) being forced to burn an enormous stack of letters. He reads through them as he incinerates each letter, almost all of which are addressed to Stalin after being held for no lawful reason. This emphasises the absolute isolation men in such prisons felt as they were locked away and killed off as part of Stalin’s cleansing. Somehow, Stepniak gets a letter through to the Bryansk Prosecutor’s Office, which is where Kornyev (Aleksandr Kuznetsov), the newly appointed prosecutor, steps into action. Stepniak shows the young prosecutor his wounds as he warns him of the severe, deep-rooted corruption in prisons like this. He takes his words to heart and heads for Moscow to speak to the highest authority prosecutor in the land with only good intentions. Kornyev is a passionate seeker of justice, believing that his sincere actions can work to expose corruption. But he naively ignores the constant warnings from others saying that he’ll end up locked up and dead if he doesn’t tread lightly.
Two Prosecutors feels methodical in how it’s written and the pace at which it trods along. The film can be broken down into a series of scenes that Loznitsa drags out as Kornyev meets several stern-looking Soviet bureaucrats and wise locals. Each conversation impacts those watching, as Loznitsa’s actors deliver his dialogue to perfection. The story doesn’t stray in any surprising directions, hitting predictable beats, even for those with basic knowledge of Stalin’s Russia. But the impending sense of inevitable doom for the kind-hearted protagonist is quietly infuriating as he falls into a somewhat obvious trap that awaits him by the end of the film.
Kuznetsov’s performance as Kornyev is one of restraint; his passion is seen through his quiet, yet unrelenting nature. His performance remains subtly constrained throughout, never letting the pressure of Soviet bureaucracy get to him. The way he falls asleep during stimulating, philosophical conversations is amusing and realistic; he is focused on the task at hand and has little room to accommodate other thoughts in his head. There are a few much-needed laughs which break the tension. Russian actor Aleksandr Filippenko is the standout actor as he plays two vastly different characters, the aforementioned old imprisoned Bolshevik and a raving war vet who talks about the time he met Lenin. Going from a vehemently serious character to a laughable, raving veteran, telling his story on the train to strangers, is a mighty impressive showcase of his acting talent. Filippenko’s performances haven’t left my mind since leaving the Cannes screening last night.
The visuals are drab and grey, with the only burst of warmth coming from the burning of the letters. The lighting mimics classical paintings and the staged works of Edward Hopper in the way that the film’s subjects are meticulously placed within the frame. This is best seen as Kornyev patiently waits in the Moscow State Prosecutor’s Office, surrounded by a comically blocked group of old, white men in suits. Who knew a room full of old, white men could be so visually striking? The confinement of the prison and those in it is brilliantly visualised through cinematographer Oleg Mutu’s clever 1.37:1 framing that allows little space to breathe. Mutu’s camera cares little for conventions, opting to shoot the film in a series of wide shots and imposing close-ups that stress the convictions of those talking. It’s seriously amazing to see the impact that such deceptively simple shots can have on the mood of the film, there’s top-notch filmmaking throughout.
Sergei Loznitsa’s return to Cannes is a great addition to this year’s competition lineup, where it is undoubtedly a strong contender in multiple award categories. It’s superb on all fronts, apart from the narrative direction being fairly obvious, but that’s not necessarily a bad thing, as it emphasises the film’s true purpose of showcasing the cyclical nature of the Soviet Union’s state repression.
Grade: B+
This review is from the 2025 Cannes Film Festival where Two Prosecutors played In Competition.
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