We all have inner monologues, and it’s probably for the best that we’re able to choose how much of what we think actually gets transmitted from our brains to be spoken aloud to the world. It’s not all bad, of course, but a preoccupation with someone or something might be taken the wrong way if verbalized without appropriate context (or at all). It could also be interpreted as outright obsession, which probably wouldn’t be received kindly. Vladimir is an entrancing deep dive into one person’s ferocious, active brain that offers no option other than to experience its story from the perspective of one woman with an extremely engaged imagination.
Our protagonist (Rachel Weisz) is struggling to write a book and enjoying a lackluster existence as a professor whose colleague and husband John (John Slattery) is currently the subject of an investigation for inappropriate relationships he had with students. That they have an open marriage is immaterial since people still project their own ideas of how she should act as his wife onto her. Her attention is pulled entirely in another direction when she meets the newest member of the faculty, Vladimir (Leo Woodall), who awakens a sexual desire in her that she hasn’t felt in years and which consumes her every thought.
Based on her 2022 novel of the same name, this limited series comes from creator Julia May Jones. Just as the book was her first novel, this is her first foray into television, a fact that isn’t readily apparent based on the polished look and feel of the show. Weisz frequently turns to the camera to speak directly to the audience, and a good portion of each episode involves her fantasizing about sexual interactions with Vladimir, none of which are all that explicit but which each convey the passion burning within her. While what audiences are seeing is only in her head, she’s absolutely in control, which presents the show from a fascinating vantage point.
Weisz functions as the best kind of unreliable narrator, someone telling a story that may genuinely be more interesting than her own life, and which offers fantastically contradictory clues to how Vladimir really feels about her. When she yearns for someone to look at her in a way that truly evokes tender affection, he does that just moments later, yet still expresses loyalty to his wife Cynthia (Jessica Henwick) even as he’s oversharing complaints about her. He seems so oblivious to how the protagonist lusts after him to the point that it’s not believable that he wouldn’t be catching on at all, but that major question mark is an asset rather than a demerit since it only further enhances the protagonist’s drive to realize her deepest desires, even if it’s only in imagined sequences experienced vividly by the audience.
In her previous television gig, Dead Ringers, Weisz played two roles, but she brings just as much to this singular performance. It really does feel like a trip directly into this unnamed protagonist’s mind, and she very much wants to say everything in the narration that she wouldn’t dare say aloud. She demands attention and makes sure it all stays involving, and her scenes with Woodall are marvelous, even if audiences can’t know for sure how close it is to reality, or if she’s even to be believed at all. Weisz walks a tightrope and does it extremely smoothly, and it’s a delight to watch her work.
Woodall has been busy since his breakthrough role as someone with a more sinister charm in the second season of The White Lotus, appearing recently in film festival entries Tuner and Nuremberg. He’s so spectacularly nonchalant and effortlessly seductive in this part, matching Weisz’s intensity with something much subtler. In the supporting cast, Slattery, Henwick, Miriam Silverman, Kayli Carter, and Matt Walsh offer worthwhile foils to populate this universe that, were the protagonist truly in charge, wouldn’t have time for any of them.
Enjoying Vladimir requires surrendering to the notion that what someone thinks can be just as powerful as what they do, particularly when it prevents them from effectively doing or accomplishing anything else. Weisz and Woodall are a magnetic duo and ensure that this sometimes risky concept really does work, and they really do give as much fiery passion as possible to their shared scenes. This is a rare case where not tethering to reality is absolutely a benefit, exploring how contemplating breaking the rules can be the ultimate satisfaction.
Series grade: 8/10
