Review of the Russian film ''Twenty-Six Days in the Life of
Dostoyevsky'' © Film critic Mr. Lalit Rao [FIPRESCI]
19.06.2025
Review of the Russian film “Twenty-Six Days in the Life of Dostoyevsky –The vivid portrait of a tortured genius in crisis © Film critic Mr. Lalit Rao [FIPRESCI] 19.06.2025
Russian film ‘‘Twenty-Six Days in the Life of Dostoyevsky,’’ directed by Alexander Zarkhi, stands as a remarkable example of Soviet biographical cinema and a poignant homage to one of Russia’s greatest literary figures, Fyodor Dostoyevsky. This 1981 film revisits the particularly intense and transformative month of October 1866, when the author was grappling with both creative and personal crises. The film’s historical and emotional richness makes it not just a period drama but a profound exploration of the psychological landscape of a tortured genius.
Alexander Zarkhi, a veteran director of Soviet cinema, brings to the film a maturity and restraint born from decades of experience. Known primarily for his collaborations with director Iosif Kheifits during the golden age of Soviet filmmaking, Zarkhi had already proven his storytelling prowess in films such as ‘‘Baltic Deputy’’ (1937). This earlier work portrayed the moral and intellectual awakening of a Russian scientist during the Bolshevik revolution and remains iconic for its ideological clarity and strong performances. But with “Twenty-Six Days in the Life of Dostoyevsky”, Zarkhi transitions from historical epic to intimate character study, focusing less on grand political movements and more on the tormented soul of a single man under extraordinary pressure.
At the heart of the film is actor Anatoli Solonitsyn’s magnificent portrayal of Dostoyevsky. Solonitsyn, known for his work with Andrei Tarkovsky in films like ‘Andrei Rublev’ and ‘Stalker’, was uniquely equipped to inhabit the role of a psychologically complex, intellectually intense character. His performance won him the Best Actor Award at the 1981 Berlin Film Festival, and deservedly so. He captures not only Dostoyevsky’s external mannerisms—the nervous energy, the shifting moods, the tortured expressions—but also the inner storm of a man driven to the edge by financial desperation, artistic ambition, and emotional vulnerability.
The premise of the film is deceptively simple. Dostoyevsky is in dire straits. He is bound by a punishing contract with an unscrupulous publisher named Fyodor Stellovsky, he must deliver a new novel within a month—or face the loss of all his literary rights for the next nine years. This oppressive deadline becomes the motor of the narrative, giving the film a relentless momentum. The urgency is not fabricated for cinematic effect; it is rooted in historical fact, as Dostoyevsky indeed wrote the novel ‘‘The Gambler’’ under these difficult conditions.
To expedite the writing process, Dostoyevsky hires a young stenographer, Anna Snytkina, whose initial professional relationship with the writer slowly evolves into an emotionally charged and ultimately romantic one. The film’s treatment of Anna is particularly compelling. Played with grace and intelligence, Anna is not merely a supporting character but a vital, emotional anchor. She is the only person in Dostoyevsky’s chaotic life who truly understands the emotional labyrinth he inhabits. As Dostoyevsky spirals into despair and creative mania, Anna remains patient, perceptive, and quietly resilient. Her decision to leave her fiancé, support Dostoyevsky in his darkest hours, and eventually marry him is presented not as a romantic fantasy but as the triumph of great empathy and amazing mutual understanding.
Zarkhi’s direction is amazingly subtle and restrained. He avoids the temptation to mythologize Dostoyevsky, opting instead to humanize him. Through a series of deeply personal scenes, we witness the writer’s anger, fear, self-doubt, and moments of tenderness. Whether he is berating himself for perceived failures or flying into rages over unpaid debts, Dostoyevsky is shown in all his flawed humanity. A particularly moving subplot involves his stepson, who visits his house regularly to sell household items. These interactions, brief but poignant, underscore the grinding poverty and emotional strain that permeate Dostoyevsky’s domestic life.
Visually, the film is crafted with a painter’s eye for period detail. The muted color palette, subdued lighting, and claustrophobic interiors evoke the stifling atmosphere of 19th-century St. Petersburg. Cinematographer Pyotr Kataev contributes to this atmosphere with his intimate framing and slow, deliberate camera movements that mirror the psychological tempo of the story. The audience is not just watching a writer at work; they are plunged into the fevered reality of his life, where every minute is haunted by the ticking clock of obligation.
Thematically, ‘‘Twenty-Six Days in the Life of Dostoyevsky’’ is about something that is more pertinent than mere artistic creation; it’s a film about survival, redemption, and the fragile intersections between genius and madness. The figure of Stellovsky, the cunning publisher, is a constant reminder of the exploitative structures within which even great artists must function. Dostoyevsky’s desperation to free himself from this economic stranglehold reflects a broader commentary on the vulnerabilities of intellectual labor in a commercialized world.
The writing of the novel ‘‘The Gambler’’, itself a story of obsession, risk, and downfall, becomes a metaphor within the film for Dostoyevsky’s own gamble with time, health, and emotional stability. We watch as he pours pieces of his own life and experiences into the novel, blurring the lines between fiction and autobiography. The manuscript becomes not only a means of salvation but a mirror to the writer’s inner turmoil.
The film’s conclusion, with Anna becoming Dostoyevsky’s wife and steadfast companion, offers a quiet but profound sense of hope. In a world that has offered Dostoyevsky little kindness, Anna’s presence is a gift—not just of love, but of understanding. Her role as stenographer becomes symbolic: she is not only transcribing his words but deciphering his soul.
Director Zarkhi, in his later years, had increasingly turned to classic literature for inspiration, and his 1968 adaptation of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina is still remembered for its elegance and fidelity to the source. But ‘‘Twenty-Six Days in the Life of Dostoyevsky’’ might well be considered to be his most personal film. Stripped of ideological overtones, it is a deeply human story about creativity under duress, the cruelty of circumstance, and the quiet redemption found in shared understanding.
Selected to be screened at the Berlin Film Festival in 1981, the film represents a high point in Soviet biographical cinema, a genre that had often struggled to balance political messaging with character depth. Zarkhi succeeds by focusing on the inner world of Dostoyevsky, giving viewers a rare and valuable insight into the man behind the masterpieces.
To conclude, ‘‘Twenty-Six Days in the Life of Dostoyevsky’’ is a thoughtful, immersive, and emotionally rich film. It is a tribute to the enduring relevance of Dostoyevsky's work, and to the sacrifices made in the pursuit of artistic greatness. Through strong performances, meticulous direction, and a resonant script, Zarkhi has created a cinematic portrait that is both historically authentic and emotionally timeless.
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