Vladimir Zakharenkov

Vladimir Zakharenkov’s filmography is a bit of a wild ride, honestly. He’s not one of those directors who churns out popcorn flicks just to play it safe. Nope, he goes for stories that actually stick with you. Take "Shlyakhetni volotsyuhi" from 2018—this one dives into the lives of so-called noble vagabonds, a bunch of misfits just stumbling through a world that doesn’t exactly roll out the red carpet for them. The film’s got this raw, almost messy energy, like Zakharenkov wanted to show the grit and weirdness of being an outsider without sugarcoating it. Then jump to "Bucha" (2023), and it’s a total gear shift. This one’s heavy—set against the backdrop of a real-life tragedy in Ukraine, it doesn’t shy away from the darkness. There’s this unfiltered intensity, like the camera just refuses to look away, even when things get ugly. It’s not comfortable viewing, but maybe that’s the point. Zakharenkov’s not here to make you feel good; he wants you to feel something real, even if it stings. And then there’s "My Grandmother Fanny Kaplan" (2016), which is both bizarre and fascinating. He digs into the life of Fanny Kaplan—yeah, the woman who allegedly tried to assassinate Lenin. The film’s a bit surreal, weaving in history, rumor, and a splash of dark humor. Zakharenkov doesn’t just tell her story; he messes with your expectations, flipping between past and present, fact and maybe-not-quite-fact. Altogether, his work’s unpredictable—sometimes rough, always gutsy, and never boring.