Created by Julia May Jonas, "Vladimir" opens with a woman in her 50s commenting on her physical appearance. This character, played by Rachel Weisz, says that she can no longer cause men to have spontaneous erections, as she has lost her ability to captivate them. Many viewers would likely vehemently disagree with this statement. This woman often remarks that she's no longer in her prime, but since she's played by Weisz, we laugh at such nonsense. "Vladimir," too, is basically about confirming our beliefs and assumptions. It's about how this professor, who teaches Women in American Fiction, eventually ends up consuming the thoughts of two men—a hot colleague, the titular character played by Leo Woodall, and John (John Slattery), her husband. Both think about her at night as they lie in their beds.
The subtitles refer to Weisz's character as "protagonist." On Wikipedia, though, she is named "M" (I will use this name here). This, however, is one of the many specifics the series elides about her. For instance, M is apparently a successful published author (her debut novel was a hit), but we never get enough details about her work. What is her writing style like? Who are her inspirations? When Vladimir mentions that he wishes he could write like her, does he mean that he wishes he could emulate the flow of her prose or create strong, memorable, and possibly relatable characters? What does that "flow" actually look like? Also, what exactly makes the novel a page-turner? The conversations around writing, when they happen, are of the vague variety—something that seems to have been cooked up by a non-writer. The discussions and compliments don't extend beyond a few adjectives, such as "good," "excellent," and "talented." What's funny is that this is the same complaint Vladimir has about his wife, Cynthia (Jessica Henwick). Her feedback on his work is shallow and broad.
I have not read May Jonas's book from which this show is adapted, but based on this Netflix outing, one might say that the comedy-drama is about desire, reputation, and how art can make one uncomfortable. M is incredibly proud of her job. She sees herself as a sort of artist who strives to give something important back to her audience (in her case, her students). When she extols the virtues of Daphne du Maurier's Rebecca by framing it as a story of obsession—an obsession the wife carries for her husband's dead lover—she looks like a mad creative person who has a penchant for art that provokes, that pushes the borders of sanity to the edge of madness. M really thinks these discussions help her students become better. This is why, when the other professors try to impose authority on her through biweekly meetings meant to evaluate her classroom sessions, she gets irked. If M is an artist (well, she is a writer after all), a step like this comes across as invasive to her. No artist likes it when just anybody interferes with their work.
Lines like "It was a different time" and "Times have changed" are often heard in the show. They are spoken in connection with the scandal in which John is found guilty of having a sexual relationship with his students. The young students label it a "misuse of power." M, however, doesn't offer a clean-cut answer. She instead asks if it's appropriate to punish two adults who entered into a consensual relationship with each other. This is "Vladimir's" way of being "prickly" and "controversial," and while the subject is explosive enough, the series plays it safe—it remains aesthetically impersonal about this matter. For starters, the accused, John, is portrayed as a harmless eccentric, a loving husband, and a caring father. So when the victims recount their experiences in court (one of them, visibly uncomfortable, mentions that John offered to take her to a hotel room), we don't even catch a glimpse of a sexual predator, a terrifying monster. These courtroom scenes are also brief; we are not allowed to sit long enough in the presence of the accusers to get a handle on them. Did all of them truly consent to John's advances, or did some of them embrace him out of fear of receiving low grades on their tests and assignments, which would have harmed their future?
What all this means is that "Vladimir" fails to hit most of its targets. It only succeeds in one department: being a showcase for Weisz's talents. Weisz's M is front and center, and she carries you from the beginning to the end. The 55-year-old actor lends M an air of comic sexuality that renders even her most questionable actions hilarious. After drugging Vladimir and struggling to keep him upright, she binds him to a chair with ropes and chains. When Vladimir, fully intoxicated, asks M whether she would take advantage of the situation, she eagerly asks, "Is this what you want?" Hey, she at least bothers to get Vladimir's permission. A man would probably have ended up taking advantage of the situation without bothering about consent. M is so horny that she isn't always able to think straight. Her desire for Vladimir's body is so intense that she puts aside her professional commitments, like submitting a letter of recommendation for a student. Does "M" stand for "Men" or "Male"? We, after all, are used to seeing men play such roles, where they become oblivious to the world in their pursuit of sexual pleasures.
"Vladimir" works when the focus is on quirks and routines unique to M, like the way she handles a waxing appointment, the text messages she uses to blackmail a co-worker (Matt Walsh), and her affinity for a certain kind of cake, which leads to an amusing scene with her daughter (Ellen Robertson). When M responds to Vladimir's text messages with a heart emoji, she blushes like a teenager. We practically see her hormones jumping with excitement when she ogles Vladimir as he runs around and jumps into her swimming pool in slow motion. Vladimir's muscular physique, seen through M's excited gaze, feels both perfect and comically exaggerated. You are barely able to suppress your laughter. Vladimir looks like a bimbo; this bimbo, when he says the right words, turns M on and intensifies her wet dreams, fantasies, and sexual drive. The whole show is fueled by M's hormones—they make it look randy. Weisz provides "Vladimir" with its vigor; she's the star of this show.
Final Score- [6/10]
Reviewed by - Vikas Yadav
Follow @vikasonorous on Twitter
Publisher at Midgard Times