The first episodes of the legal procedural 'Plevako' have been released on the Premier platform, in which Sergei Bezrukov takes a creative approach to the gray routine of legal proceedings.

At the end of the 19th century in Moscow, there was no lawyer more popular than Nikolai Plevako (Sergei Bezrukov). The way he effortlessly and creatively handled various civil and criminal cases delighted the public and irritated the prosecutors. Court sessions were always sold out, with everyone eagerly awaiting Plevako's next performance.

Of course, this style and democratic approach of the lawyer is not to everyone's liking. The chief prosecutor of Moscow, with the telling surname Pobedonostsev (Igor Gordin), begins to eye him suspiciously. On the other hand, Plevako himself unexpectedly becomes infatuated with Maria (Olga Lerman), the wife of a wealthy industrialist, which could also lead to the ruin of his marriage and career. Under such conditions, it is not easy to help people, but the lawyer takes on every interesting case and resolves it to the best of his knowledge and talent.

Many critics have immediately begun comparing the new domestic series 'Plevako' to the version of Sherlock Holmes's merry adventures. But this is such an obvious reference, leaving no room for other interpretations, that it is quite difficult to disagree with them. Given that some scenes have migrated into the series in whole chunks: from dynamically shot street fights to the protagonist's visions during moments of intense mental activity. But since various variations of legal procedurals exist, why not try now and turn this into a quite modern comic? The material certainly allows it.

Evgenia Smykova

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The differences are more visible in the details. For example, the real Plevako was named Fyodor, but in the series he is Nikolai. This possibility of a slight detachment from the historical figure gives room for creativity. Therefore, the theatrical Bezrukov seems to have collected all the memes about himself into one character and leaves Robert Downey Jr. far behind. He either recognizably tragically addresses the public about the fate of Russia, or professionally squeezes out a tear, or sensually whispers to the jury for mercy for his client, or dances dashingly after another won case.

But such theatricality was also inherent in the real Plevako, so here, most likely, it should be said about an accurate hit on the image. However, with such a powerful acting range, all other characters remain somewhere in orbit and are hardly memorable. On the other hand, such attention is quite justified: the main character of the series is the lawyer Plevako, whose actions determine the fate of those he has undertaken to defend. He, as they say, holds all the cards.

And the cards, by the way, will be the most diverse. In addition to the main line of Plevako and the story of his ascent to the Olympus of a folk attorney and underappreciated artist, each episode of the series will be compactly packaged into one case that the lawyer will need to handle within the allotted runtime.

All sorts of characters will ask for defense, and Plevako with his assistant, in search of truth, will go through all levels of pre-revolutionary Moscow: from the criminal underworld of Khitrovka to political intrigues. Some cases from Plevako's career are adapted literally from Wikipedia. Here, by the way, it would not hurt to familiarize yourself with the legal proceedings of the 19th century, so as not to be shocked sometimes by the verdict of the jury and the methods of the lawyer himself.

The first episodes handle this perfectly, and the detective genre under director Anna Matison, although reminiscent of television investigations with Leonid Kanevsky, is still the best thing in the series, apart from its artistic part. The latter, by the way, is made with great effort and diligence of an excellent student: the rich decoration of restaurants, the mess of taverns, fog-covered streets, lush outfits for women, picturesquely styled beards for men, the gold of epaulets, Schubert's waltzes, and the crunch of a French roll. In short, everything that can immerse you in the era literally at the snap of a finger. Except that the stiff collar of the snow-white shirtfront sometimes prevents Plevako from turning his head properly. But that's just a trifle.

Perhaps the only major drawback that could negate all of the above is that the series, in general, can do without the viewer. It exists perfectly well on its own, admiring its own embodiment on the screen. So if you miss a couple of episodes, no one will be particularly worse off. And 'Plevako' won't even notice it.

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