'Dau' Review: Khrzhanovsky Film Hits Venice Competition

Controversial Soviet Epic Returns to Festival Circuit

More than six years after Ilya Khrzhanovsky premiered “DAU. Natasha” and “DAU. Degeneration” at the Berlin Film Festival, the director returns with a new installment from his sprawling cinematic project. The moment arrived right before the global COVID lockdown brought a politely muted reception and limited distributor interest, yet Khrzhanovsky proves that you cannot keep a good immersive multidisciplinary art project down-or even a flawed and ethically questionable one. Allegations of physical and psychological abuse on the sprawling set of this years-long undertaking have surfaced prominently, creating a storm of controversy around the production. Despite these concerns, the Venice Film Festival programmed “Dau” in its main competition, seemingly embracing what the back-to-basics title implies: Khrzhanovsky’s attempt to extract a quintessential dramatic epic from untold reams of material.

Festival Defense on Political Grounds

The ethics of Venice’s programming decision sparked further debate, though festival brass have defended the film on political grounds. Khrzhanovsky’s overarching thesis carries heavy focus on the grim tools of Russian state oppression and imperialism through history, themes that have gained timeliness since the project’s earlier installments. The director’s examination of Soviet-era brutality resonates differently now, arriving after Putin’s invasion of Ukraine reframed conversations about Russian authoritarian legacy. Beyond political relevance, another question emerges: whether “Dau” stands as such an undeniable artistic accomplishment to merit all this debate and controversy. On that point, critical opinion remains divided.

Monumental Runtime and Formal Ambition

Weighing in at just over 200 minutes-not including the quarter-hour interval bisecting its Venice presentation-the film certainly announces itself as a grave and major work. The epic spans four decades in the life of a physicist involved in the Soviet atom-bomb project, tackling immense historical terrain with formal daring. Beneath the impressive, sometimes seizure-threatening sound and fury of its construction, however, “Dau” feels dramatically and rhetorically thin to some observers. Critics note it plays as an avant-garde counterpart to American films like “Oppenheimer” and “The Brutalist,” which likewise portrayed the social and ideological turmoil of a historical era through the portrait of a single tortured man. Yet the man in this case remains something of a cipher to the last.

Lev Landau as Elusive Subject

The character draws inspiration from Lev Landau, a leading Soviet theoretical physicist who won a Nobel Prize in 1962 for groundbreaking work in quantum mechanics. Landau’s achievements included calculating the dynamics of the first Soviet thermonuclear bomb, making him a pivotal figure in Cold War scientific history. His life story contains drama enough to sustain a conventional biopic, though Khrzhanovsky takes a radically different approach. The cinematography comes from Lol Crawley, one of three credited directors of photography on the project, whose Oscar-winning work on “The Brutalist” established his reputation for capturing historical periods with visceral intensity.

Immersive World-Building at Vast Scale

Khrzhanovsky’s DAU Cinematic Universe represents one of cinema’s most ambitious experiments in historical world-building, recreating Soviet life across decades with meticulous detail. The years-long production involved constructing elaborate sets where participants lived as though transported to another era, blurring lines between performance and reality. This immersive approach generated extraordinary footage but also raised serious ethical questions about the treatment of those involved. The allegations of abuse that emerged from the production cast a shadow over the artistic achievement, forcing audiences and critics to weigh creative innovation against human cost. Festival programmers faced difficult choices about whether showcasing the work enables problematic methods or provides necessary context for evaluating ambitious but troubled art.

Critical Reception Remains Divided

Reviews from Venice paint a picture of impressive craft that may exceed narrative substance, with the film described as “more impressive from a distance” than in sustained viewing. The formal construction demonstrates undeniable technical mastery, employing sound design and visual techniques that push cinematic boundaries. Some critics celebrate it as a towering and immersive cinematic epic that recreates the dark ages of Soviet oppression with unprecedented power. Others view it as a three-hour fever dream whose avant-garde ambitions obscure rather than illuminate its historical subject. The split in reception mirrors broader questions about whether experimental methods necessarily produce deeper insights or simply repackage familiar material in challenging form.

Uncertain Path Forward

The limited distributor interest that greeted earlier DAU installments at Berlin suggests commercial prospects remain uncertain despite Venice competition placement. Mainstream audiences rarely embrace 200-minute experimental epics, particularly when controversy surrounds the production. Khrzhanovsky’s attempt to distill his vast archive into a more accessible feature may not overcome resistance to the project’s ethical baggage and demanding runtime. Still, the film’s placement in Venice competition signals that major festivals recognize its ambition and relevance, even as they grapple with the responsibilities of platforming contentious work. Whether “Dau” finds theatrical distribution or streaming homes depends partly on festival accolades and partly on whether distributors believe audiences will engage with such challenging material.

Legacy of an Audacious Experiment

Regardless of commercial fate, Khrzhanovsky’s project will endure as one of cinema’s most audacious experiments in blending documentary and fiction, performance and reality. The director’s vision of using immersive historical recreation to explore authoritarian oppression pushes filmmaking into territory few have attempted at this scale. That vision came at considerable cost, both financial and human, raising questions about where artistic ambition crosses into exploitation. As Venice audiences and critics wrestle with these contradictions, “Dau” stands as testament to cinema’s capacity for bold experimentation and a cautionary tale about the limits of artistic license.